Goosebumps crept up the back of Kean’s neck. As he slowly turned to examine the room, he spotted the green mist up in the corner near the door. It wasn’t spreading around the room like a stench. “What are you doing to me? Open the bottle,” the voice pleaded.No one was in the room. “Who said that?” Kean blurted, then lifted his feet onto the bed and leaned over to see under the bed. “I did.” “Who? Where are you?” Kean’s knuckles turned white from gripping the bottle.
-Ramona Nehring-Silver
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