Just Kidding!!

Just kidding!! I'm changing the name of my story, because I have a really good idea for a story called 'The Music Box', but it's too hard to incorporate the same storyline into this one, and where it's already going. I don't have a new name yet, and maybe it's because I have no idea how to end this story, since I didn't want it to be a long, drawn-out story in the first place. So bear with me, as I'm basically putting down any thoughts that pop into my head.


Just kidding again!! I'm deciding to just leave that story where it is, and start the real 'The Music Box', and I'm too lazy to go back and fix that last paragraph. I'll finish the first story later. Sorry. Here goes nothing:


The Music Box

Sandy McCarthy wasn't what you could call a drama queen. She was 24, going to a large college in Illinois, and had just gotten engaged, but nonetheless, she was very 'down-to-earth', and knew what her responsibilities were. She had recently fallen in love with who she referred to as "Mr. Perfect", Taylor Duerden, who was a volunteer fireman at the Altona City Fire Department. He also went to school with Sandy, and they both found each other to be the best of friends. And why shouldn't they? They had known each other since childhood; the sandcastles in the hot summer sun, the occasional popsicle on what seemed an unbearable day, and all the way up to going to grade school and high school together. They couldn't be more perfect for each other.

However, as of late, Taylor had noticed that something wasn't right with Sandy. She seemed to be flustered, but wouldn't tell Taylor anything about what the problem was. This wasn't uncommon for them, as Sandy didn't think putting her problems on other's shoulders was a sufficient way to deal with them. She and Taylor 100% trusted each other, but she just couldn't bring herself to tell him about the problem. Taylor was determined to find out, and even more determined to somehow help her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sandy tried to concentrate, but her mind kept drifting back to her dream she had had the night before. It was a horrible dream, maybe even a nightmare, and she just couldn't remove it from her thoughts. She had had the awful dream several nights in a row now, and she was beginning to wonder whether it had some connection to her life or not. She wasn't one to believe in superstitions or "dream-readings" or whatnot, but there was something different about this dream. For one, it kept reoccuring, but the aspect she remembered the most was what kept appearing numerous times throughout the dream: an antique music box her grandmother had given her, just four days before she had passed away. It had always given comfort to Sandy, especially on the lonely nights she had experienced after how traumatizing her grandmother's death had been to her, but now she began to doubt its "abilities".

She tried to forget about the past night's images, and to maybe finish her Sociology homework before the class was ended, for once. She was just above exhausted, because with the dream occuring night after night, she was unable to receive adequate sleep. Sandy knew she had to tell Taylor sometime, but she didn't know exactly when to, or how to bring it up.

As the final bell rang, she quickly picked up all her supplies and materials, and headed for the door. After a quick meet-up with Taylor, Sandy climbed into her car, and tried to navigate the winding streets to her apartment. About two tuna sandwiches and several re-runs of "The Office" (lol) later, she was fast asleep on the sofa. The hours seemed to simply roll by.

It was a large, fashionable and luxurious mansion, which was home to the most-paid individual in all of Illinois. Walter Squires, the owner of the house, was spending a quiet night alone, due to the vacation his wife and his three children had taken to maybe relieve some of the stress Walter was going through with his business.

As he lay relaxing in his 'most prized chair', Walter looked to see the clock had just struck 9:00 in the evening, and he was about ready to retire to his bed. He slowly mounted up the stairs, when he heard a faint sound. It sounded like a lullaby was being played, and he tried to follow the sound, to see where the soft song was coming from.

Walter stepped into his youngest child's room, where he found the source of the sweet music. It was an old music box his wife had given the child, to help him to sleep each night. Walter wondered why it was on, and reached over to shut it off. As he turned back to the door to exit, he saw a dark shadow blocking his way.

The last noise Walter heard was the soft, gentle music of a lullaby.

Sandy shuddered awake, to find herself in a cold sweat. She was trembling, and could feel that her heart was beating rapidly. Terrified of what to do, she quickly grabbed the phone and punched in Taylor's number. Taylor answered, and after he heard the startled tone of her voice, decided to agree to Sandy's pleads for him to come over.

They talked the problem over, and at about 11:30, Taylor left for his own apartment.

In the morning, Sandy awoke to the newspaper headline of: "MILLIONAIRE WALTER SQUIRES FOUND MURDERED IN OWN HOME".