Last night

Dear Diary,

Last night I heard the strangest thing as I was falling asleep. Between the capitations of my fan, $20 at Linens and Things, a whisper, rather a memory of a whisper called my name.

'Brian'

I didn't move, didn't dare move, and I listened again for the sound thinking that perhaps it had been my imagination or the creaking of my old house or even a hobo on the street.

But there it came again, the voice chopped up by the blades of my fan.

'B-b-b-r-ri-i-i-a-a-n-n'

I knew what I had heard. It was a voice, in my dark room, in the middle of the night, and i was alone and helpless.I drew back my covers, and turned on the light. My room was empty. The posters on my walls stared at me. The furniture waited.

It had become very cold in my room, like someone had opened my windows and outside was Siberia in January.

I got up, faked a stretch and did a little tour around the room while shivering, pretending to be looking for something I desperately needed at 12:30 am.Then I heard it again. From down the hall.

'Brian'

My fan sputtered.

My door was open and i could see down the hallway to the bathroom at the other end. the light was on and the door was open just a crack. As I stepped out of my room, the bathroom door creaked open a little more as if to say 'I think you are dumb enough to come in here, so come on'. The hall light didn't work.

My bare feet tread softly and cautiously towards the bathroom door. My lungs sent out a white flag of peace with every breath, trying to save themselves.

The light in the bathroom got brighter with every one of my steps.
Closer and closer, brighter and brighter until I reached out my hand and the light threatened to get so bright that I could not see. I grabbed the handle, flung open the door and a flash of light nearly knocked me off my feet.

I stepped through the door and the light cut out.

...alone, cold, scared, in the pitch bathroom.

I tried to act normal, so I reached for my toothbrush. It was gone. I opened the cabinet, but i couldn't see anything, so I tried the light switch. Once, nothing. Twice, nothing. Three times, it came on.

The cabinet was empty, except for an old, bloody razor. I spooked and closed the cabinet and the mirror appeared before my face.

Written on the mirror in blood was the word 'Bigote' and floating behind me, as delicate as mist but as frightening as clown with a chainsaw, was the spectre of a half-shaved mustache.

I screamed and turned to face my tormentor, but it was gone, vanished, like so many of my dreams.

The warmth came back to the house and the light in the hallway turned on.I went back to bed, shaken and confused.
What mustache was this haunting me? Why was it haunting me?

Only time will tell...

Brian

Donate to Mustaches 4 Kids.www.m4kdc.net