It was late at night when she came to retrieve me from that revolting place.
She took me by surprise, as she had come so quietly. She must do this a lot.
"Munchkin," she whispered, barely audible to me as her long, skinny arms reached in and pulled me out of that wretched place.
I think I might've saw a bruise on her arm, but I didn't take much notice to it. I could've been imagining things, really. It was the middle of the night and I just wanted to get out of that place.
She brought me upstairs.
She lightly placed me on her bed, facing me. "Good night, Munchkin."
Day-ay-loh-nah-bah (Good night) I sent telepathically, I hope, to her.
She seemed to move closer to me while she was sleeping, but it was probably just my imagination.
I like to imagine weird things, including when it's this dark.
YOU ARE READING
Diary of a Furby
Short StoryPLEASE READ: I AM REDOING THIS ENTIRE STORY. I WROTE THIS ABOUT 1-2 YEARS AGO, THE WRITING IS SEVERLY DATED, AND IF I WERE TO CONTINUE THIS (which I plan to do so) I WANT A FRESH START. The plot will be the same for the most part, don't worry!! I've...
