Dane Peacock
Rachel sat with her back against the wall and watched as the girl danced around in circles.
"Qatchil toh teer rord qatchil," sang the girl, her white dress billowing out prettily as she spun around.
Rachel did not recognize the girl. She did not recognize much of anything. She had that feeling of bewilderment one gets from waking up in a strange place. In fact, she was waking up in a strange place. The little girl in the pretty white dress skipped over to her.
"Geuy rere, sare roone," said the girl and then quickly danced away.
Rachel did not know it yet, but she had taken a nasty fall. She was sitting with her back against the wall, her arms stretched up above her head. A heavy shelf, a beam really, pinned her arms back against the wall. The little girl was sitting by the dryer, playing with a flower, and singing.
"Teers tar teetty, tois tar tootoo. Teers tar teetty, tois tar tootoo."
Rachel's body was all messed up. There was a nasty bump on the back of her head, and she had received a serious concussion. Her left arm was already beginning to bruise where the shelf pinned her arm at the bicep. Her right arm was pinned too, and dislocated at the shoulder. She had fractured one of the vertebrae in her back. She felt none of this, yet, but she would, soon.
The little girl looked at Rachel with impossibly large eyes. "Yaxta tikta dointy tumma foi," she said to Rachel.
Rachel tried shaking the cobwebs from her head. It hurt, and made her dizzy. She tried moving her arms. Searing pain shot through her body. She screamed. Tears sprang to her eyes. It started to dawn on her that there was something terribly wrong; that she had major problems.
Rachel fought to control the pain as she watched the girl in the white dress dance around and around. She tried desperately to piece thing together; to remember, to figure out what was going on.
What was going on was that she had come down to the basement to wash her favorite jeans for the game and the dance afterward. She had climbed the shelves to reach for the box of laundry soap. The large shelf had fallen with her on it and now she was pinned in that improbable position. Her parents would not be around to help. They were gone for the weekend and would not be back until Sunday night. Boy, were they in for a shock when they got home!
The little girl was skipping around, taking flowers from her basket and sprinkling them over the laundry room floor.
"Teopy hee zow hoto grutu shoi," the girl was saying in her sing-song voice.
Rachel hated the basement. It scared her. The laundry room in which she was trapped was semi dark. The light bulb was out, and there were no windows, but light poured in through the door leading to the family room.
The little girl in the white dress looked at her, tried to wink, blinked instead, and spun around in a circle.
"Hee hee yirry wey," she said.
Rachel realized that her situation was dire. No one knew where she was. Her friends would be expecting her at the game and dance later that night, but they would probably figure that she had changed her mind about going with her parents. This meant that unless she could get free, she would be stuck for the rest of that afternoon, all that night, and all of Sunday. That thought got her moving. She twisted and kicked up at the shelf. Pain shot through her arms and back. She tried to block it out. The little girl watched, pouting. Rachel struggled until she could take it no longer. The little girl looked at her with concern, then clapped her hands and hopped across the floor.
"Shweesy teesy tallia tay," the girl sang. Rachel watched her frolic about.
Sparks of awareness slowly made their way to Rachel's brain. She wondered why it had not occurred to her to speak to the girl before now.
"Please," said Rachel, "Can you help me?"
Her voice sounded distant. The girl stopped and cocked her head. She seemed to be trying to remain still, but her knees kept bouncing.
The girl spoke, "yeer nerinh po jodo cuxe."
More awareness entered Rachel's brain. The absurdity of the presence of the strange little girl finally sunk in. She could feel the pain from the bump on her head. She knew that it was causing her brain to play tricks on her. The little girl was obviously a hallucination; she must be; only…
Rachel closed her eyes to concentrate on a way out of her predicament. She heard singing. She opened her eyes and looked over to see the little girl in the white dress playing with two friends in light blue dresses. All three were skipping around a ring of braided flowers in front of the dryer.
"Bevee, menee, weree wee," they sang.
Rachel watched them run and dance. She heard them giggle and sing. They could not be real. No way. Yet, her eyes and ears were trying very hard to convince her otherwise. The girls skipped past her, waving as they went by.
The girl in the white dress stopped and announced grandly to her friends, "Skee deedia, tee, sili ose see."
My, how they laughed at that one! Rachel knew they were just figments of her imagination, yet, she had to try…
"Please," She asked again, "Can you help me?"
They all turned and looked at her. One whispered something to the others. The first little girl in the white dress came and stood before Rachel.
"Twear fwoom ateeter woort," she said to Rachel.
Rachel shook her head. The girl repeated her words again, very slowly.
"I don't understand you," said Rachel.
The girl bit her lip, shrugged, and skipped back to her friends. Rachel watched as they played with shiny shells on the floor. Unexpectedly, the girls screamed and jumped up, laughing. A small boy was there. At least, he was almost a boy. He had a goatee and horns, his legs were furry, and he had hooves.
"Grrowl gruup grue, go gigga meeg," he yelled at the girls.
They screamed and ran around and around. Rachel watched their antics for a long while. The girls sometimes teased, sometimes scolded the half boy. He seemed to have anger issues. After a time, Rachel's eyelids grew heavy, and she drifted off. When she awoke, the half boy was staring at her with an unnatural grin. It was creepy.
"Hohh tte hitnsg I twna ot od ot uyo," he said softly.
Rachel looked away. She was going insane. She shut her eyes. She had to get rid of the hallucinations. She told herself that when she opened her eyes, they would be gone. She would force them away. Gathering energy, she willed them from her head and opened her eyes.
The half boy was laying on the floor, trying to peek up the girl's white dress. The girl suddenly noticed, kicked at him, and fled away.
Rachel grew sleepy. The concussion was making her lethargic. She watched disconnectedly as the figments of her imagination played around in the laundry room. The light was fading from the doorway. Night was falling. The three girls sat together by the washer, whispering to each other. The half boy was pulling the wings off a butterfly. After some time, the little girl in the white dress stood and approached Rachel.
"Hs cmeiong. He wlil be hree sono," said the girl to Rachel.
Rachel stared at the girl. "What?"
"Yu msut hrruy adn get fere rgiht nw,"
The other girls came up and stood next to the first.
"Yu ar in gaert denagr. hs eivl, very eivl. Hs cioemng. Hrury"
"What? What did you say?" asked Rachel, wide awake now.
The three girls backed away and stood still next to the dryer. The half boy joined them. It was very quiet. Rachel felt her grasp on reality fading fast.
She said to them, "This is not real. You are all figments of my imagination. I injured my head. You are not real"
The little girl in the white dress said, "Hs rael. Hs form yuor wlrod."
She moved towards Rachel, swinging her dress back and forth. She bent forward and whispered in Rachel's ear.
"He wlil do tnihgs to you."
Rachel stared wildly at the girl.
"Unskeapbale tnihgs," said the girl with tears in her eyes.
She reached out to gently touch Rachel's face.
"Yu wlil sfefur hrloriby. He wlil klil yu solwly. Yu wlil die."
Without warning, the half boy jumped on Rachel's lap, grinning insanely and shrieking, "I wnana wtach! I wnana wtach! I wnana wtach!"
Rachel started screaming then. She shut her eyes tightly. Fear was consuming her. Her hallucinations were filling her with enough terror to drive her insane. She knew it, but there was nothing she could do.
Then, with sudden clarity, she realized that she had not felt the girl's hand on her cheek. She had not felt the half boy land on her lap either. She had evidence! She knew that they were not real. Knew it! She infused this information into her brain, filling it with proof. She flung her eyes open and looked around. They were gone. Her eyes searched everywhere in the fading light. They were nowhere to be seen. She started laughing. Her laughter was wild with relief. Then she cried. She cried long and hard. Eventually, she slept.
It was dark when she awoke, but there was enough moonlight seeping through the door to the family room so that she could see. There were no cute little girls anywhere; or mean little half boys for that matter. Her arms and head hurt, and she was feeling pain in her back. She felt thirsty, and her bladder was full. She knew that she would have to endure the long night and the entire day tomorrow before her parents got home. Maybe she would be able to sleep through most of it. She dreaded the pain and tedium of spending the dark night stuck like she was. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep. No use.
She opened her eyes and looked around. She spotted the laundry soap box on the floor where it had fallen. That's what had started this whole mess in the first place. She futilely wished that she could go back in time and take back those few precious seconds where she had climbed for the soap. The box was broken and powdered soap spilled out onto the floor. A man was standing barefoot in the spilled soap, watching her. He was real, she knew with sudden certainty. He was no figment. He was real.
He stood there in the soap, barefoot, shirtless, and grotesquely skinny. Long, dark hair fell away from an unbelievably cruel face. He was holding a lit cigarette. He flicked it at her. She felt it hit her leg and fall to the floor. Felt it! Fear, like Rachel had never known, welled up inside of her. Her heart pounded. She wanted to scream, kick, cry, but all she could do was lay there, frozen with fear, waiting for the man to come over and do unspeakable things to her. The little girl in the white dress was there beside her. She showed Rachel her pretty new flowers.
"Please," Rachel pleaded with the girl, her voice shaking, "Please don't let him hurt me." The girl looked at her sadly, and offered her a flower.
The man came forward, looking down at her with insanely unfocused eyes. He was enraged. He started yelling nonsense down at Rachel. He was too infuriated to properly form words correctly. His spittle covered her face. He grew increasingly frenzied. He reached down. Rachel felt his cruel hands on her. She closed her eyes and screamed. She screamed and kicked and twisted. She screamed and kicked even as she felt the shelf cut into her left arm. Her arm was moving! She put her weight into it. Her arm pulled free, ripping the skin from bicep to palm. The beam loosened on her other arm and her body slid down to the floor, her right arm flopping uselessly. Rachel heard a faint knocking. It sounded far, far away. Pain and exhaustion consumed her, and she blacked out.
"Yu want to dance?" Rachel heard from somewhere close by.
She opened her eyes. The little girl in the white dress was kneeling next to her.
"Yuor arms are free. Yu can dance with me now."
Rachel thought about it. It sounded so fun.
"Why not?" She said.
Rachel climbed slowly to her feet. It took some time. She stood, hunched over. The girl smiled up at her and started dancing. Rachel did not dance yet. Something was troubling her.
"I need to pee," Rachel said. The little girl pouted. "And I am very thirsty. I need a drink of water too."
The little girl stopped dancing.
"And I suppose I should get something to stop this blood," said Rachel, looking at her arm, "but I really do want to dance more than anything else in the whole world."
The little girl smiled brightly, "Cmoe on!" she shouted and started dancing wildly. Her friends in the light blue dresses joined her; and the half boy too.
Rachel laughed at their crazy dance. Soon she was dancing with them. She spun and whirled. It was exhilarating, except that the half boy kept trying to poke her with his little horns.
"Stop it!" She yelled at him. He was so annoying.
The girls giggled, "Sotp it, litlte devil," They said to the half boy.
"He's not a real devil, is he?" asked Rachel.
"Yes," said the girls.
"Why do you play with him then?" asked Rachel
"Oh, he wlil not be a full grown devil for many years, so they let us play with him now." said the girl.
"How nice of them," thought Rachel, and danced and danced.
After a time, she remembered something that was troubling her.
"What happened to the man that was here earlier?" She asked. "The one that seemed kind of… mad at me?"
"Oh, he went away when yuor friends knocked. They came over after the game to get you up for the dance," said the girl, "The man will not be back."
For some reason, that made Rachel very happy, and she danced like she had never danced before.
"You are such a pretty dancer," said the little girl in the white dress to Rachel.
"And you are so nice and sweet," said the other little girls.
"We like you. We like you very much. Stay with us forever."
"Yes," said Rachel, dancing. That sounded wonderful.
Sunday evening:
"Bill!" Linda screamed, "BILL!"
Bill heard his wife call for him. She had never said his name like that before. It was a desperate, hysterical sound. He dropped the bags he was carrying and rushed downstairs. His wife was standing at the doorway to the laundry room. Her hands covered her mouth. Bill looked in.
Oddly, what he saw first were the footprints in the soap. Then, surreally, he saw the dark droplets of blood splashed on the walls and floor. Only then did he notice Rachel in the middle of the floor, spinning slowly around in circles. Her body was utterly exhausted. Her left arm was caked in blood. Her back was hunched forward awkwardly, and her right arm swung around crazily at the shoulder. Her eyes stared at nothing while her hoarse voice cackled with eerie laughter.
"Rachel! Oh Dear Lord. Rachel!" Bill yelled in horror at what he saw.
Qatchil toh teer rord qatchil, Rachel heard. The voice was coming from some place far away. It was an unfamiliar language. Oh well, she could not be bothered right now. Rachel found her place in line with the other dancers and followed them around in a circle, laughing with delight.
"Qatchil toh teer rord qatchil," sang the girl, her white dress billowing out prettily as she spun around.
Rachel did not recognize the girl. She did not recognize much of anything. She had that feeling of bewilderment one gets from waking up in a strange place. In fact, she was waking up in a strange place. The little girl in the pretty white dress skipped over to her.
"Geuy rere, sare roone," said the girl and then quickly danced away.
Rachel did not know it yet, but she had taken a nasty fall. She was sitting with her back against the wall, her arms stretched up above her head. A heavy shelf, a beam really, pinned her arms back against the wall. The little girl was sitting by the dryer, playing with a flower, and singing.
"Teers tar teetty, tois tar tootoo. Teers tar teetty, tois tar tootoo."
Rachel's body was all messed up. There was a nasty bump on the back of her head, and she had received a serious concussion. Her left arm was already beginning to bruise where the shelf pinned her arm at the bicep. Her right arm was pinned too, and dislocated at the shoulder. She had fractured one of the vertebrae in her back. She felt none of this, yet, but she would, soon.
The little girl looked at Rachel with impossibly large eyes. "Yaxta tikta dointy tumma foi," she said to Rachel.
Rachel tried shaking the cobwebs from her head. It hurt, and made her dizzy. She tried moving her arms. Searing pain shot through her body. She screamed. Tears sprang to her eyes. It started to dawn on her that there was something terribly wrong; that she had major problems.
Rachel fought to control the pain as she watched the girl in the white dress dance around and around. She tried desperately to piece thing together; to remember, to figure out what was going on.
What was going on was that she had come down to the basement to wash her favorite jeans for the game and the dance afterward. She had climbed the shelves to reach for the box of laundry soap. The large shelf had fallen with her on it and now she was pinned in that improbable position. Her parents would not be around to help. They were gone for the weekend and would not be back until Sunday night. Boy, were they in for a shock when they got home!
The little girl was skipping around, taking flowers from her basket and sprinkling them over the laundry room floor.
"Teopy hee zow hoto grutu shoi," the girl was saying in her sing-song voice.
Rachel hated the basement. It scared her. The laundry room in which she was trapped was semi dark. The light bulb was out, and there were no windows, but light poured in through the door leading to the family room.
The little girl in the white dress looked at her, tried to wink, blinked instead, and spun around in a circle.
"Hee hee yirry wey," she said.
Rachel realized that her situation was dire. No one knew where she was. Her friends would be expecting her at the game and dance later that night, but they would probably figure that she had changed her mind about going with her parents. This meant that unless she could get free, she would be stuck for the rest of that afternoon, all that night, and all of Sunday. That thought got her moving. She twisted and kicked up at the shelf. Pain shot through her arms and back. She tried to block it out. The little girl watched, pouting. Rachel struggled until she could take it no longer. The little girl looked at her with concern, then clapped her hands and hopped across the floor.
"Shweesy teesy tallia tay," the girl sang. Rachel watched her frolic about.
Sparks of awareness slowly made their way to Rachel's brain. She wondered why it had not occurred to her to speak to the girl before now.
"Please," said Rachel, "Can you help me?"
Her voice sounded distant. The girl stopped and cocked her head. She seemed to be trying to remain still, but her knees kept bouncing.
The girl spoke, "yeer nerinh po jodo cuxe."
More awareness entered Rachel's brain. The absurdity of the presence of the strange little girl finally sunk in. She could feel the pain from the bump on her head. She knew that it was causing her brain to play tricks on her. The little girl was obviously a hallucination; she must be; only…
Rachel closed her eyes to concentrate on a way out of her predicament. She heard singing. She opened her eyes and looked over to see the little girl in the white dress playing with two friends in light blue dresses. All three were skipping around a ring of braided flowers in front of the dryer.
"Bevee, menee, weree wee," they sang.
Rachel watched them run and dance. She heard them giggle and sing. They could not be real. No way. Yet, her eyes and ears were trying very hard to convince her otherwise. The girls skipped past her, waving as they went by.
The girl in the white dress stopped and announced grandly to her friends, "Skee deedia, tee, sili ose see."
My, how they laughed at that one! Rachel knew they were just figments of her imagination, yet, she had to try…
"Please," She asked again, "Can you help me?"
They all turned and looked at her. One whispered something to the others. The first little girl in the white dress came and stood before Rachel.
"Twear fwoom ateeter woort," she said to Rachel.
Rachel shook her head. The girl repeated her words again, very slowly.
"I don't understand you," said Rachel.
The girl bit her lip, shrugged, and skipped back to her friends. Rachel watched as they played with shiny shells on the floor. Unexpectedly, the girls screamed and jumped up, laughing. A small boy was there. At least, he was almost a boy. He had a goatee and horns, his legs were furry, and he had hooves.
"Grrowl gruup grue, go gigga meeg," he yelled at the girls.
They screamed and ran around and around. Rachel watched their antics for a long while. The girls sometimes teased, sometimes scolded the half boy. He seemed to have anger issues. After a time, Rachel's eyelids grew heavy, and she drifted off. When she awoke, the half boy was staring at her with an unnatural grin. It was creepy.
"Hohh tte hitnsg I twna ot od ot uyo," he said softly.
Rachel looked away. She was going insane. She shut her eyes. She had to get rid of the hallucinations. She told herself that when she opened her eyes, they would be gone. She would force them away. Gathering energy, she willed them from her head and opened her eyes.
The half boy was laying on the floor, trying to peek up the girl's white dress. The girl suddenly noticed, kicked at him, and fled away.
Rachel grew sleepy. The concussion was making her lethargic. She watched disconnectedly as the figments of her imagination played around in the laundry room. The light was fading from the doorway. Night was falling. The three girls sat together by the washer, whispering to each other. The half boy was pulling the wings off a butterfly. After some time, the little girl in the white dress stood and approached Rachel.
"Hs cmeiong. He wlil be hree sono," said the girl to Rachel.
Rachel stared at the girl. "What?"
"Yu msut hrruy adn get fere rgiht nw,"
The other girls came up and stood next to the first.
"Yu ar in gaert denagr. hs eivl, very eivl. Hs cioemng. Hrury"
"What? What did you say?" asked Rachel, wide awake now.
The three girls backed away and stood still next to the dryer. The half boy joined them. It was very quiet. Rachel felt her grasp on reality fading fast.
She said to them, "This is not real. You are all figments of my imagination. I injured my head. You are not real"
The little girl in the white dress said, "Hs rael. Hs form yuor wlrod."
She moved towards Rachel, swinging her dress back and forth. She bent forward and whispered in Rachel's ear.
"He wlil do tnihgs to you."
Rachel stared wildly at the girl.
"Unskeapbale tnihgs," said the girl with tears in her eyes.
She reached out to gently touch Rachel's face.
"Yu wlil sfefur hrloriby. He wlil klil yu solwly. Yu wlil die."
Without warning, the half boy jumped on Rachel's lap, grinning insanely and shrieking, "I wnana wtach! I wnana wtach! I wnana wtach!"
Rachel started screaming then. She shut her eyes tightly. Fear was consuming her. Her hallucinations were filling her with enough terror to drive her insane. She knew it, but there was nothing she could do.
Then, with sudden clarity, she realized that she had not felt the girl's hand on her cheek. She had not felt the half boy land on her lap either. She had evidence! She knew that they were not real. Knew it! She infused this information into her brain, filling it with proof. She flung her eyes open and looked around. They were gone. Her eyes searched everywhere in the fading light. They were nowhere to be seen. She started laughing. Her laughter was wild with relief. Then she cried. She cried long and hard. Eventually, she slept.
It was dark when she awoke, but there was enough moonlight seeping through the door to the family room so that she could see. There were no cute little girls anywhere; or mean little half boys for that matter. Her arms and head hurt, and she was feeling pain in her back. She felt thirsty, and her bladder was full. She knew that she would have to endure the long night and the entire day tomorrow before her parents got home. Maybe she would be able to sleep through most of it. She dreaded the pain and tedium of spending the dark night stuck like she was. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep. No use.
She opened her eyes and looked around. She spotted the laundry soap box on the floor where it had fallen. That's what had started this whole mess in the first place. She futilely wished that she could go back in time and take back those few precious seconds where she had climbed for the soap. The box was broken and powdered soap spilled out onto the floor. A man was standing barefoot in the spilled soap, watching her. He was real, she knew with sudden certainty. He was no figment. He was real.
He stood there in the soap, barefoot, shirtless, and grotesquely skinny. Long, dark hair fell away from an unbelievably cruel face. He was holding a lit cigarette. He flicked it at her. She felt it hit her leg and fall to the floor. Felt it! Fear, like Rachel had never known, welled up inside of her. Her heart pounded. She wanted to scream, kick, cry, but all she could do was lay there, frozen with fear, waiting for the man to come over and do unspeakable things to her. The little girl in the white dress was there beside her. She showed Rachel her pretty new flowers.
"Please," Rachel pleaded with the girl, her voice shaking, "Please don't let him hurt me." The girl looked at her sadly, and offered her a flower.
The man came forward, looking down at her with insanely unfocused eyes. He was enraged. He started yelling nonsense down at Rachel. He was too infuriated to properly form words correctly. His spittle covered her face. He grew increasingly frenzied. He reached down. Rachel felt his cruel hands on her. She closed her eyes and screamed. She screamed and kicked and twisted. She screamed and kicked even as she felt the shelf cut into her left arm. Her arm was moving! She put her weight into it. Her arm pulled free, ripping the skin from bicep to palm. The beam loosened on her other arm and her body slid down to the floor, her right arm flopping uselessly. Rachel heard a faint knocking. It sounded far, far away. Pain and exhaustion consumed her, and she blacked out.
"Yu want to dance?" Rachel heard from somewhere close by.
She opened her eyes. The little girl in the white dress was kneeling next to her.
"Yuor arms are free. Yu can dance with me now."
Rachel thought about it. It sounded so fun.
"Why not?" She said.
Rachel climbed slowly to her feet. It took some time. She stood, hunched over. The girl smiled up at her and started dancing. Rachel did not dance yet. Something was troubling her.
"I need to pee," Rachel said. The little girl pouted. "And I am very thirsty. I need a drink of water too."
The little girl stopped dancing.
"And I suppose I should get something to stop this blood," said Rachel, looking at her arm, "but I really do want to dance more than anything else in the whole world."
The little girl smiled brightly, "Cmoe on!" she shouted and started dancing wildly. Her friends in the light blue dresses joined her; and the half boy too.
Rachel laughed at their crazy dance. Soon she was dancing with them. She spun and whirled. It was exhilarating, except that the half boy kept trying to poke her with his little horns.
"Stop it!" She yelled at him. He was so annoying.
The girls giggled, "Sotp it, litlte devil," They said to the half boy.
"He's not a real devil, is he?" asked Rachel.
"Yes," said the girls.
"Why do you play with him then?" asked Rachel
"Oh, he wlil not be a full grown devil for many years, so they let us play with him now." said the girl.
"How nice of them," thought Rachel, and danced and danced.
After a time, she remembered something that was troubling her.
"What happened to the man that was here earlier?" She asked. "The one that seemed kind of… mad at me?"
"Oh, he went away when yuor friends knocked. They came over after the game to get you up for the dance," said the girl, "The man will not be back."
For some reason, that made Rachel very happy, and she danced like she had never danced before.
"You are such a pretty dancer," said the little girl in the white dress to Rachel.
"And you are so nice and sweet," said the other little girls.
"We like you. We like you very much. Stay with us forever."
"Yes," said Rachel, dancing. That sounded wonderful.
Sunday evening:
"Bill!" Linda screamed, "BILL!"
Bill heard his wife call for him. She had never said his name like that before. It was a desperate, hysterical sound. He dropped the bags he was carrying and rushed downstairs. His wife was standing at the doorway to the laundry room. Her hands covered her mouth. Bill looked in.
Oddly, what he saw first were the footprints in the soap. Then, surreally, he saw the dark droplets of blood splashed on the walls and floor. Only then did he notice Rachel in the middle of the floor, spinning slowly around in circles. Her body was utterly exhausted. Her left arm was caked in blood. Her back was hunched forward awkwardly, and her right arm swung around crazily at the shoulder. Her eyes stared at nothing while her hoarse voice cackled with eerie laughter.
"Rachel! Oh Dear Lord. Rachel!" Bill yelled in horror at what he saw.
Qatchil toh teer rord qatchil, Rachel heard. The voice was coming from some place far away. It was an unfamiliar language. Oh well, she could not be bothered right now. Rachel found her place in line with the other dancers and followed them around in a circle, laughing with delight.
copyright 2007 Fear Knocks
Dane Peacock is a student at Utah State Univeristy attending at the Tooele campus. He likes to write interesting pieces that play with language. In addition to writing, he loves to play strategy and war games.
