The darkness surrounded him. It was almost comforting, like a pitch black wall shutting out the horror his life had become mere hours earlier. There was a faint sound of water leaking onto hard concrete in the distance. He was suddenly aware of his aching bladder, but he didn't dare move. He might be heard.

The pounding started again, and he felt a warm sensation in his lap.

Sandi Griffen was having a bad day. Her mother had received her PSAT scores that morning and, needless to say, she was not pleased. The resulting lecture-slash-tirade on her apparent lack of scholastic effort had lasted a good three hours and would have gone on longer if it hadn't been interrupted by more "crushing" matters. Chris, one of her younger brothers, topped it off by "accidentally" setting Little Miss Fluffy-Poo's tail on fire with a cigarette lighter. Thankfully, the little brat was finally being quiet now. Sandi sighed in relief as she washed her hands. the little bastard had ruined a new outfit too.

The doorbell rang, breaking Sandi's stream of thought.

"Now who could that be?" she muttered to herself.

She opened the door to face Quinn Morgendorffer and the rest of the Lawndale High Fashion Club standing on her porch.

"We're not late, are we Sandi, you did say six o'clock, right?" Stacy asked almost desperately from the back of the group.

"Oh, yes. Of course. The Meeting. Come on up to my room."

"...and so, according to the latest polls in France, leopard skin and tiger prints are officially coming back!"

"Thank you Stacy, for that intriguing report on current trends."

"Ummm, wasn't there, like, a zoo breakout in Paris a few weeks ago?"

"I hardly see how that has any relevance to this discussion, Tiffany."

"Geez Sandi, are you okay? You seem more irritable today or something."

"No Quinn, I assure you that I am feeling quite fine" Sandi quickly replied.

"All right," Quinn didn't really believe her, but she dropped the subject.

"Um, Sandi. Is it okay if I use your bathroom?"

"Go ahead Stacy, I'm sure *you* know where it is."

Stacy let the comment slide as she left the room.

"Let's see, down the hall, two doors to the right" Stacy muttered to herself as she traveled down the narrow corridors of the Griffin home. There was an odd odor in the air, almost like that meatloaf her dad left out to long. She passed the cracked door of one of Sandi's brothers' rooms. 'Chris,' she thought. The smell seemed to be coming from in there.

She opened the door.

Stacy stared in shock at the scene before her. A small gasp escaped from her gaping mouth.

The smell was certainly stronger now.

"Gawd! What's taking her so long!?"

"She must, like, re-e-ally have to go-o-o."

"This is ridiculous. Come on Quinn. Let's go see if she needs any help."

They found Stacy on the floor in the hall, fainted dead away. However, this didn't concern Quinn as much as the other thing did.

The bloody body of Sandi's little brother was sprawled out next to her. It almost looked liked he had been hacked to death with

"A GI Jim^tm plastic combat knife? How immature." Quinn bent down to pick up the incarnidine toy, narrowly avoiding the full force of Sandi's sudden blow from behind.

Quinn whirled around. "Why you backstabbing little bit-"

She was cut off by a sudden kick to her stomach as Sandi attacked again.

Quinn fell to the ground and rolled, avoiding kicks and punches as she scampered out of the room on all fours.

"Sandi! How could you do this to me!? After everything I've done, I thought you were my friend!"

"Quinn, Quinn, Quinn. It's all about you, isn't it, Quinn?" Sandi picked up a plunger that was lying in the bathroom. "Ever since you came to this godforsaken town you've been stealing from me!

"My STATUS!!

"My TOYS!!!

"My IMAGE!!!!!!"

She wildly swung the plunger at Quinn, punctuating each point.

But Sandi, I wasn't trying to hurt you!"

"LIAR!!! You and that pathetic loser sister of yours have been plotting against me from day one!" She swung the plunger again, knocking Quinn off balance. Seeing her opening, she pushed the vice-president down the stairs, and onto the tile of the Griffin family dinning room. Sandi paused briefly to admire her work, then turned and went back to her room.

"Is something wrong?" Tiffany asked vacantly when she heard the door close behind her. She had gotten bored, and was examining herself in Sandi's full-length closet mirror.

"Of course not, Tiffany, what could be wrong?"

"uumm, I don't know. Do-o-oes this skirt make me look fat?"

"Hmm," Sandi silently took a cordless curling iron out of her drawer. "I think we need to make some alterations."

Tiffany hardly noticed as she approached her from behind and brought it around.

Slowly Stacy opened her eyes.

"Where am I?" she murmured.

Realizing that she was alone, she slowly pulled herself up, and surveyed her surroundings. With a glance she remembered where she was and a single primal urge overcame her. She had to get away.

She turned a corner into the kitchen, almost tripping on something slick pooling on the tile floor. She looked down and received a second shock.

"OOHMIIGOD!!! MY NEW SHOES ARE RUINED! This ucky red stuff is everywhere! Ewewewewewewewewew..." All of a sudden Stacy began to hear a faint scratching sound coming from the hall behind her. She jerked her head around wildly searching for the source of the noise; intense panic began to set in. She threw open the door leading to the front hall and her salvation. And there was Sandi and the end of the hall slowly creeping toward her, dragging a large nail file against the wall, leaving a long rip in the pinstriped wallpaper. Stacy stumbled backward in an effort to escape, just barely keeping her balance on the slick floor. It almost looked like Sandi crossed half the room when Stacy blinked. Stacy began to feel light-headed and fought back the urge to faint for a second time. Sandi was almost upon her.

"Hello StAcy. anD JusT where Do You ThinK YOU'RE going ToDAY?"

"NoW StAcy, wHy wouLD i dO thaat?"

The screaming stopped suddenly, and the boy lost all hopes of his sister's friends coming to his rescue. He was dead now. It was only a matter of time. Eventually Sandi will come down into the basement and find him lying here, shivering on the cold concrete, wet, hungry, and too exhausted to run anymore. He began to hear a low rumbling in the direction of the driveway, like a car coming into the garage. He thought he was delirious. No one could possibly help him now. Still, in the back of his mind, a small candle of hope was relit.

 Tom Griffen was having a bad day. During a surprise meeting, Old Man Harting had put him in charge of a project that he knew nothing about, his watch mysteriously stopped, and his phone kept ringing, and ringing, and ringing, and it was never anyone he wanted to talk to. But finally, he was home. A time for relaxation.

He fumbled in his pocket for his keys, and, once securing them, twisted the knob, opening the door into his not-so-humble abode.

There was an eerie stillness in the air.

 He went into the sitting room and put down his briefcase.

 "Is there anyone here?"

He thought he heard a book or something fall onto the floor in the kitchen and grabbed an iron poker from the fireplace, fearing burglars. He turned a corner into the dining room.

"Hello, Daddy. How was work?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

end notes

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ATTENTION NITPICKERS!

Yes, I know you're out there. And before you start sending me nasty Emails about the inconsistency of the details in my description of Stacy's path to the kitchen such as "If she went from the Chris' bedroom on the 2nd floor to the kitchen on the 1st floor, how come she didn't see Quinn's body at the foot of the stairs?" ect., I'll tell you this:

Obviously, you forgot about the mystic crunch portal in Chris' closet that twists the boundaries of time and space and opens out in their walk-in freezer. It was one of the interesting consequences of building your house on an ancient Indian Burial Ground.

ATTENTION ASTROPHYSICISTS!

Yes, I know you're out there. And before you start sending me nasty Emails about the fact that mystic crunch portals don't really exist and it's a pitiful attempt to avoid a gigantic plot hole, I'll tell you this:

It's my story so I can do what ever I want, so screw you! NYAH NYAH NYAH-NYAH NYAH!

<ahem>

Thank you for your time and be sure to enjoy the many other wonderful tales in this collection.

And for any of you still reading, yes I know this story is a piece of crap, but some prefer to call it a "Learning Experience"

Contact me at ofnomadsoul@hotmail.com

http://nomadsoul.20m.com/fanfiction.htm for more ficcy goodness

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