Personal Narrative- Rough Draft

Assigned Seats

            Reluctantly, I flipped the bathroom light switch off and ducked into the hallway, the open door pulling a small cloud of steam out behind me as I made my way toward my room. I shivered slightly in the relative coolness of the air in the hall, wincing from the occasional water droplet that trickled from my still-damp hair down my back. The house was silent and dark except for the faint glow coming from beneath my parents’ bedroom door, and I hurried through the gloom to the warm safety of my bed.

            Despite the darkness, my eyes adjusted quickly, letting me see the faint shadows of twisting tree limbs dancing on my walls. Foregoing my bed for a moment, I kneeled down next to it carefully, shifting in discomfort as my skin came in contact with the damp spots on my pajama pants. Warily, I glanced toward each corner of my room, making certain they were empty, before quickly closing my eyes and rattling off a prayer. I snapped my eyes back open and checked the corners again. Still empty.

            Feeling relieved – but by no means safe – I hopped up onto my bed and pulled my covers down, preparing to burrow into the comforting confines of the sheets when I heard it. The noise was faint – only a slight murmur over the squeak of bed springs – but it was there. A quiet giggle? A malevolent cackle? Slowly, I moved to the edge of my bed and leaned down to peer into the empty space beneath, eyes wide, hands trembling slightly. And, there, a shape sat – a darker patch in the blackness that shifted toward me as I watched it.

            “Hi, Ryan!” my sister said. “I’m under your bed!”

            Suddenly furious that I had let my six-year-old sister frighten me, I bellowed, “Get out of my room, Chandler! Now!”

            Squeaking, she scurried out from beneath my bed and bolted for the door as I scrambled out of my sheets and ran after her, yelling and chasing her down the hallway toward her own room. She burst through her door and immediately turned, slamming the door in my face and locking it before I could get to the knob. Pounding on the door, I continued yelling at her until I heard the shriek from my parents’ room – “RYAN!!!”

            Filled with panic, I raced back to my room and dove under my bed, huddling down in the cramped space and vainly hoping that my mother would not find me. My heart raced and my adrenaline-enhanced ears clearly heard the creak of the opening door and the quick footsteps as my mother approached my room. From beneath the bed, I saw her feet as she entered, and light suddenly flooded the room. She approached the bed, and I knew that she would find me. Terror and guilt laced my mind and I squirmed farther into the corner. Perhaps she wouldn’t see me – it was dark beneath the bed, after all. But no, she knelt down and looked directly at me.