Story Snippet #4

   And now the time has come for the last part of the last full chapter in Going Ballistic to be revealed. Alas, I have no other full chapters written as of yet, so this is the last I'll be sharing of this story for a bit. Don't worry, though, I'll find something else to post about. (Hmmm. How does a book series recommendation sound? Well, I'll think on it. Sounds like fun, and trust me, I've got plenty of good books to recommend!) Anyway, please enjoy this last Going Ballistic snippet.

Previously:

She returned holding a small red container. She pulled out a thin glass stick. “You need to take your temperature.” She handed the thermometer to me.

  I took it gingerly. Well, here goes.

To be continued:

   A few minutes later, the thermometer was back in Mom’s hands. Holding it up to the light, she examined it. Her eyebrow rose an inch and she turned to me with a slightly worried expression. “One hundred point nine degrees.” She looked at me searchingly. “Were you around anyone sick at school?”

   “I try not to be,” I said. “If they were, I didn’t know.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Is one hundred point nine bad?”

   “Well, it’s enough for me to send you back to bed,” she replied, giving me a gentle push. “Go on then. I’ll be there in a bit.”

   I might feel lousy, but I don’t want to be cooped up in bed on a Saturday! I opened my mouth to protest, but then I heard Ballistic making noise in Emm’s bedroom doorway. Suddenly bed sounded like a wonderful safe haven. “Okay,” I agreed quickly, hurrying down the hall. 

   I passed Emm, who was standing in her doorway with Ballistic sitting on one shoulder. She took one look at me and asked, “What’s wrong, Jimmy?”

   I didn’t say anything. I just pressed myself up against the wall and squeezed past the two of them, avoiding the monkey in particular. When I reached my door, I swung it open and slipped inside. Not bothering to change my clothes, I fell into my bed. My head raged in protest when it smacked into the pillow. I winced and shifted so that I was lying on my side. The closet door loomed up in front of me. What if Emm came through the closet? I did not want some crazy animal screeching in my face when I woke up next. I felt terrible enough. 

   I eased myself out of bed and crept to the closet door. I moved my padded chair in front of it and returned to bed. The pounding in my head lessened a bit when it touched the pillow, and I instantly relaxed. Closing my eyes, I willed sleep to come and take me away . . . and hearing the far-away monkey sounds, I wished it would take Ballistic away too.

                 

                                     * * *

   A small clicking sound roused me from a deep and troubled sleep. I cracked an open and rolled onto my back. The noise ceased. 

   Puzzled, I rose up on one elbow and forced my other heavy eyelid open. Moving like that was a mistake, and I immediately began to pay for it with a twisting in my stomach and a throbbing between my eyes. Rubbing my forehead gently, I eased myself back down so that I was lying flat on my back once again. Letting out a sigh, I closed my eyes.

   The scratching sound that erupted a few seconds later was most definitely real. As sick as I was, I had assumed it was my imagination. But as I jerked upright and looked around frantically, I knew it was real. Someone was creeping around in my room.

   The noise stopped once again. This frightened me even more, as I swiveled my head in every direction, searching for the culprit. A feeling of dread rose in my throat and threatened to cut off my breath. I couldn’t see anyone!

   Finally I mustered up enough courage to speak. “Who’s there?” The question came out as a high, quivering squeak. When I received no response, I gingerly pushed myself up farther and began searching the ceiling. Maybe I was just hearing creaks from inside the attic. Maybe Dad was getting something from up there. That’s probably all it was. 

   It’s okay. You’re okay, I told myself, easing back under the covers. There’s no-

   Just then, my lamp flew off my nightstand and landed on the floor with a crash. Heart thumping, I tore off my covers and leapt from my bed. I winced as my bare feet touched the ground off balance, sending me tumbling to the ground. My whole body ached. It was as if someone had strapped me down to the road and had people step all over me. Groaning, I pushed myself up into a sitting position. Just above the spot where I had been laying only moments before, I could see a small dark something lurking on my shelf above my headboard. Because I couldn’t think straight, it cued all images of my childhood fears. Monsters that crept through my window and stole my prized baseball. Strange creatures that were full of foreign diseases. 

   Stop it! I mentally hissed. I didn’t want to feel like an overreacting baby, but honestly, I wanted my mother. My mother had always told me that my fears were only scary because I thought of them that way. I was the one who made them frightening. So I stood up on my wobbly legs and faced the creature boldly. “What-”

   The next second, the thing launched itself off my shelf, revealing its true monkey colors. Letting out a happy screech, it reached out its arms toward me. 

   But Ballistic’s screech was drowned out by another sound. It only took me about two seconds to figure out what the louder, bone-chilling scream was coming from. And as the monkey reached me and threw his long, hairy arms around my neck, the horrifying sound rose to become one of the most high-pitched shrieks I’ve ever heard come from my own mouth. 

   “Mom!”

Signed,

Martha