This is what I see exaggerated. That is why this is fiction! With me a new twist of the conscious. We think but never speak about the sensitive side. Place in metaphors and statements, presenting reality and a bonus of fiction. Welcome to my sighting, vision, and exaggeration of what could be true. Become my eyes, as you focus on the words. Now can you see what I see? Twisting scenes, transferring thoughts to an emotion, touching the unseen, holding hands with fear, realizing it's truth to an open opinion. This is why I felt compelled to tell the story. A plan from deep within set a sail for my new adventures of what I see, and what I think I see, and to learn the difference. Taught speak no evil, see no evil, hear no evil, so I wrote it instead. These rules were never clarified outside the main ingredients. So telling the story this way makes it easier for my conscience, releasing a poison that was slowly trying to kill a humble soul. Sins and unwanted memories can be at peace, through the conclusion of a fictional story. Or is it? My gift of a fictional horror with an inspirational meaning. Read my exaggeration, and form your opinion of a book called "Can You See What I See?" I'm not a big fan of gambling, but I bet a pocket full of coins that this book is different, heads or tails. P.S. Remember three is a charm. Two more will follow.

Can You See What I See

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 jusTemple
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4520-0714-4

Contents

Chapter I: It begins..............................................1Chapter II: Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?.....................13Chapter III: Dream or Nightmare?..................................21Chapter IV: The enviable tears of a clown.........................31Chapter V: Truth or Dare..........................................41Chapter VI: Yamin, be there.......................................45Chapter VII: Scenery of a sighting................................51Chapter VIII: It's do or die......................................59Chapter IX: No turning back.......................................67Chapter X: A moment in time.......................................77Chapter XI: Love will conquer all.................................101

Chapter One

It begins

The beginning that triggered memories for awareness of this realization of existence. Concerns came in reactions of being startled to an insight that fear was without an end, a great admiration to find the knowledge and to keep an order. Intimation presented ceaselessly to my mental character, transforming my physical ego. My memories became captive, on the one hundred and eleventh day of spring, which fell under the tenth.

As the wool blanket slid from over my face, I saw it, deep in the right hand corner of the roof, in the shed. The shed was already spooky. My vision saw dusty concrete, a flow of assorted off-white colors with a condemned nature. It was the size of a utility room, but had a visual of a harsh placement, within this environment. Two windows stood on opposite sides of the wall, facing each other. This square area measurement of the window space, if open, not an easy fit for someone half my size.

Seeing out them was out the question, what the rain couldn't do, didn't get done. In front of me, a dull wall with many cobwebs, a space of hidden critters. Light source was little, seems to barely receive light, becoming a resident for the creepy crawlies.

My reality of it, a dusty old doll house, full of wonders; bonus to escape from my stupid brothers.

A little beyond the wall stood many leaves and limbs. They're donations of pecans, became the main attraction.

I must have dozed off; turning this escape into my first saved memory, and nothing would be the same anymore.

I blink.

Eyes focus on the right hand corner. I spot something moving, a dark shadow, covering the edge of the roof, footage, a fourth of a pie, and the size of one. Easing from the corner, my inside thought was: Is it coming up to get me?

A blotchy shadow, darker than any other shadows in the compartment, didn't help that it was already dark out side, but not yet pitch.

I thought at first it was the lighting. Maybe this is a shadow off an object in motion beaming off something that isn't.

I blink.

I lift my arms behind, and pushed up hard, popping them hard in place, to get a better view of my space.

Being a tomboy had its benefits. You learn to move muscles, to keep up with them, and beating them made it worth it, a classic, arm wrestling. A competition for my male siblings, a fact a girl can beat a boy.

I blink.

I should have known. The windows were too little to give off such a shadow, and nothing was over there but a wall, and on the other side, Mr. Seek.

Mr. Seek, old and worn. Some thought he was taking up space, always in the back, waiting to tell the same stories of who he knew. Once in a blue moon, we would get a new one.

A phrase referred to him, a lot - "Is your bark bigger then you bite?" with a laugh after the statement, huge and powerful. You couldn't tell his age. He felt like my grandpa in so many ways.

Nature was taking its course. Sitting in Mr. Seek's lap and playing would become unreasonable. The pain we heard popping, coming from his arm, as we hug it. As much as he enjoyed us, he couldn't stop, a broken arm, coming from a loosen embrace.

Old, maybe, a little wore out, but never taking up space. While sitting in Mr. Seek's lap, I released my mind, looking up in the clouds, and making out person, places, or things; clouds becoming my entertainment. Every now and then, emotions were showed, a big blue smile would appear, amongst the clouds. I made sure to listen to the wind as it sings the perfect caption. He was the Old Friend.

On his body, permanent art, initials of RC loves PH, curved in the chest, and in the middle of the back, WD loves GD, telling of whom he knew. His full name, Mr. Hide-N-Go-Seek, the eldest of the pecan trees.

I turned my head in the direction of this half moon. I couldn't move, frozen from the waist down.

I muttered, "I'm scared."

I felt like my eyes were deceiving me. I knew that the reflection was of its own. It was a race of understanding in my heart and veins, which one could perform faster, causing my skin to take on the proof. Sweating would persist; giving me a hot fever threw my muscles. Reality was playing in my mind. Under stress was an understatement. Sweating turned into chills. I realized that I was fragile, different from the boys.

A black blotch is present, a full pie. Substance was darkness moving out the edge of the wall, poking out, what seems to be a head.

"Am I really seeing this?" my mouth mumbles.

I blink.

My eye lenses open up slowly; the oversized circle was about the size of a distant full moon.

Moving at an angle, from the wall, sideways. Figurine of a hangman, squirming out the edge, Jell-O motion, while parts of it look to be tripped in a sci-fi generation, not visible, yet, to my eyes.

I blink.

My arms became weak. I no longer was sitting up. I fell back without a fight, but I was a fighter. Now, tears started to form in my eyes.

"What is this?" I thought, and with another thought, Scream!! Nothing came out my mouth, and I was stuck. I couldn't move, and it felt like I couldn't breathe.

The hangman started stretching.

I blink.

As I laid down to the thought of what was going on, scared to the fact, or is this fiction? "What to do, what to do?" making sure it didn't hear.

My eyes were dry, and no more tears could fall, not after soaking up the back of my hair. A self petty emotion that discharged from my eyes, but left proof in other spots.

"Mommma," I whisper.

Eyes, engaged fully with the wall. A hangman, turns at a slant, boldly on the wall, sideways, nothing to show characterized, no eyes, mouth, fingers, feet.

Basic show of individuality: legs, arms, body, neck, and head. No adjectives.

I blink.

"Is it moving?" I look up. At this time, my eyes are burning, "Move! MOVE! Run!" I froze.

Leaping, from side to side, head first, pace picking up.

The wall was dark, but the skydiving hangman was darker, arms pulled back with every leap. The mimicking of this hangman was causing its own shadows, on its third leap.

A new kind of scary, not believable to the eye of the beholder. This was Saturday morning cartoons, transformed into a reality, as I watched. Watching Tom and Jerry earlier, could this be the influence on my perception?

I blink.

Hitting the end and have a disorderly fit as it turn for the next jump. Slamming harder to the edge of the wall, creating a new pace, not able to catch with the eye. I could view the movement, but not the hangman.

Danger was present to my eyes, sending shock within my mind. Bring...