I Dream of Pasta: It's Better Here

It had been a sunny day.

The day I embraced the Darkness.

I had done my homework, eaten, and gone to bed.

I woke up: the clock read 8:00, but it was still dark. I smiled and opened the window. Everything was a twisted mock-up of what it had been. I saw the sandbox, littered with shards of glass, pools of blood. the swings, rusty chains cracked with blood, razors underneath

I heard a shout of joy and a young boy jumped into a pile of leaves. he ran out laughing, thorns sticking out of his face and eyes, his arms a bloody mangled mess. I glanced over and yelled with joy as I saw my much hated father hanging from a tree. One eye was popped, the other impaled with innumerable pins.

It was better here, I thought, and ran downstairs to play.

A box was on the counter, a note on top.

It read:

"So you've found us, congratulations. but...if you truly want to stay here, there is something we must take care of first. you see, we cant have you tell everyone about us now can we? but if you can't speak, you cant tell anyone!"

The box opened to reveal a switchblade.

I smiled happily. Was that all? it was so simple for so great a reward!

I reached in, grabbed the knife. Opened my mouth, and began to cut...

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