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The sun was setting and the house was dark. The parents were out of the house and Brent was out with his friends. Only Mark and I were left. I was 6 years old.
"Ring" "Ring" "Ring"...
I never pick up the phone. Since my parents were out, and Mark wasn't paying attention, it was my duty to pick up the phone. I felt brave.
"Click"
Hello?
Hellloooo little girl. I know where you live and I am going to KILL YOU! MUHAhahahahah!
AHHhhhhhhhhhhh!!
*STAB* STAB* BAM* BAM*
Then I would die.
This is the scenario of what I thought would happen to me if I ever picked up the phone. I do not know the exact reason for my irrational fear, but it probably has to do with too many scary movies or violent news (courtesy of my brother and dad). For this reason, whenever he had the chance, Mark would throw a ringing phone in my direction. I would then burst into tears and run away.
-Alison
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