Isaiah

Hoisting myself onto the counter again, I glanced out to the garden and identified the shadows one by one to make sure everything was in its place.

The bushes were their usual shape.

Two small trees stood together by the back fence, a metal table with four chairs set casually on the patio.

It's jumping between 19 or 8.

Um, if I had to guess, this kid's 13.

Yeah, okay, I don't know about that.

I like to check these things, which is largely why I wasn't scared of the dark.

I'd always get up to investigate small noises in the night, and I hated sleeping with my face to the wall.

If someone was in my room at night, I'd rather know about it so at least there was the faintest chance of getting away somehow.

This meant that my worries were quickly put to rest as I either found nothing downstairs but the radiator popping with the heat, or opened my eyes to see an empty bedroom.

Not knowing what could be making the odd noises coming from the kitchen, or on the stairs, or in my room is what makes my skin creep.

At 9.30 p.m., I got down from the counter and wandered back into the living room to turn off the TV.

I decided to take the rest of the juice upstairs.

Man, he's about this juice.

This is the first story of 2026.

We got to keep it together.

At 9.47 and 12 seconds.

We got to reign it in.

We got to keep it together.

We can't let last year happen again.