A hand shot out of the darkness and clasped itself upon my wrist.
I jumped back, but the hold was too strong; I couldn't pull away. The hand that grasped my wrist was old and wrinkly, covered with bruises and age spots. The fingernails were torn and chipped. My eyes wandered up the arm attached to the hand, and eventually found a face.
The woman's face was pale and gaunt. Her hair was white; tangled and matted. Her eyes were colorless and they flickered to and fro with anxiety. When she opened her mouth, I saw her teeth were rotted and yellow. Her voice was thin and rhaspy.
"Prepare to fall over the edge."
"What?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"Prepare... prepare... PREPARE!"
With that, she was gone as soon as she'd came.
Rubbing my wrist, I walked quickly away. That was weird, I thought as I came upon my house. Fall over the edge? What did that mean? I'm not afraid of hights, and I don't live near any cliffs. Why should I prepare to fall over the edge?
The questions repeated over and over in my head. I couldn't shake the eerie feeling I'd gotten since the old woman had first spoken the words to me. My paranoia had pitched to an ultimate high. WHAT WAS HAPPENING?!
The headlines later that week read: 'Teen Girl Admitted to Aslyum'