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The Night - Original Writing

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“You only bring pain,” he said.

Tripping, I place my hand on the bathroom door and rush inside. The door swings behind me as I rush to the stall.

“We’re here to help,” I told him and he backed up into the wall. It wasn’t the flashlight he was afraid of, it was me. I lean on the stall door and look down at the floor. I breathe in and out trying to calm myself down.
What is wrong with you, James? Why can’t you stop having these visions? My hand reaches for the toilet paper. Shaking, it rips a piece off and I dab my wet forehead trying to remove the sweat that feels like it won’t disappear.
“You said you actually talked to one of them?” I sat in a white chair in an interview on live television.
“Yes,” I said nodding my head in agreement.
“Well, what did he say?” The news anchor leaned in closer as I kept my head to the floor. I sighed and scratched my head while speaking. “He said he was scared … and … and wanted me to help him,” I stated.
“And did you?” he asked again. I flashed out and looked at the boy sitting there. “Please let me help you,” I said to him.
He got to his feet and ran out of the house. I started to run after the little boy. I got there and in his hand was the gun that I kicked to the side. He raised the gun up and pointed it at his head. His little boney finger was sitting gently on the trigger.
“No!” I yelled as the body fell lifeless to the floor.
I zoned back to the interview and stared at the anchor. “Yes, but sadly we were ambushed,”
I

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