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Connected (standard:Ghost stories, 676 words)
Author: LadyofMistyFogAdded: Apr 09 2003Views/Reads: 3730/1Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Brianne loved playing away on the computer, but she quickly learns she's not the only one. But whoever is sending her the weird messages wants her to come out and play.
 



Brianne's fingers flew across the keyboard, seeming to barely touch the
keys, she was so quick.  The game she was playing bleeped in protest as 
her little character passed the finish line and won.  A smile lit the 
corner of her lips, she loved it when she won, it made playing all the 
more fun. 

A little box popped up in the corner telling her that she had recieved
an im from "TinyTwo2223" and would she like to accept.  Normally, she'd 
ignore the im because she was in a game playing mood, but for some 
reason, she accepted this one. 

The screen popped up displaying the message, "Why won't you go away?" 
Confusion filled her mind, what kind of message was that?  Was it one 
of her friends being funny or silly?  Quickly, she racked her mind, 
trying to think of someone named "TinyTwo2223" but no boby came up. 

The keyboad clattered as she typed, "what r u talking bout", then she
sat patiently, waiting for the message.  Nothing came for a while so 
bored, she began to play another racing game, determined to crush the 
online competition. 

The im screen beeped and began to flash, so she clicked on it and read,
"You're not supposed to be here anymore.  Don't you know that?" The 
message sent chills down her body and she sat as if frozen, rereading 
the words.  What in the world was going on? 

"how could i no that?  i dont even no who u r," and with that, she typed
send.  Maybe she should just ignore further messages, but when the im 
began to flash again, she couldn't resist the temptation to look. 

Her heart seemed to stop beating, "You're dead! D-E-A-D! Why won't you
stay that way?"  That settled it, she was dealing with a crazy person. 
She wasn't going to respond anymore.  But the next message condemned 
that idea to nonexistance "I can see your house from my room, it's all 
dark, just like it has been since everyone moved out.  How can you be 
alive and typing away?" 

"leave me alone.  i dont no who u r or whose house ur watching, but its
not mine," she spoke as well as typed, fear beginning to grow in her. 
Her eyes peered apprehensively out the window, but of course, no demon 
stared at her, that's half what she expected. 

"Brianne, this is Mikey!  You're neighbor, listen to me, you're dead. 
You shot yourself, remember?  Brianne?" A scream issued from her at the 
sight of her name, but even worse, at the name of her neighbor.  
Because she did recognize Mikey and his screen name.  She closed her 
eyes tight but suddenly she was in her room another day, another time. 

The computer was on as usual, her mother and father in the living room
next to her, watching television.  They didn't have any idea how much 
she felt alone.  The computer was her only way out but she didn't want 
to live like that anymore.  The solid glock in her hands, her father's, 
felt like the answer, the right answer.  With a burst of determination, 
she placed the barrell in her mouth, tightening her grip on the 
trigger.  The gun was so cold and metallic tasting, weighing heavy on 
her tongue.  But without thinking about it, her fingers pulled strongly 
back, the bang resounding through her house and the neighborhood. 

Brianne slumped forward in her chair, her mind reeling with shock at
remembering.  As if to finalize that her light went out, casting 
shadows over her and causing the computer to be the only illumination. 

Even in the darkness, her fingers knew the keyboard and she typed, "I
remember." 

Mikey sat in his room and read the final message, the gooseflesh on his
body rippled by another wave.  Then "BleedingAngel7283" blinked off his 
screen and he knew she was gone for the night, maybe for good.  A sigh 
of relief escaped him and he continued to play his racing game, his 
most obstinant opponent had left for him to win.


   


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