Polum Chill

They've got some odd rules here, too.

Don't go far after dark and don't carry a flashlight.

I'm concerned about why.

Why can't you use a flashlight at night when you need one?

They won't tell me.

Be safe, everyone.

Our final story for this evening is brought to you by Holum Chill, entitled Turn It Off.

I rested my arms behind my head, skim-reading the credits of a movie I'd just watched.

After seeing them through about halfway, I lifted myself from the sofa and walked to the kitchen, stretching my arms out above me.

I opened the fridge door and found a full carton of juice, so I sat down on the kitchen counter by the window, cracked open the lid, and took several long, noisy gulps.

When I couldn't drink any more, I gasped till I didn't knew where and wiped my mouth on the back of my hand.

My evenings were uneventful around this time of summer.

It was about 9.15 p.m.

on a Saturday in July.

School was out for the holidays, and my parents had gone to visit my aunt and uncle, who lived by the coast.

They'd still be gone for about two more weeks.

I declined the invitation to join them.

I didn't dislike the place or my relatives, but we usually stayed there so long that I'd miss most of summer break.

and I'd truthfully rather spend it with my friends in town.

I was a good kid who knew how to wash clothes and use an oven, and generally not an idiot, so they let me stay at the house so long as I kept it clean.