by juliano

Created on: November 10, 2008

There always has been something fishy about that diner. It might be because the lights were always dim or we never saw anybody ever go in. My brother and I would play baseball in the lot next to the diner. Occasionally, I would hit a pop fly and it would sail over the fence and land in the diner's parking lot. Even after being triple-doggy dared to fetch the ball from my brother, I had enough sense to know that property was bad news. Some people might think it is an abandoned shack with an open sign propped in the window, but I knew someone was in there.

My brother and I were walking home from school on Friday. The soft fall breeze brushed my face. I heard the crunching of leaves beneath my feet. I waved to Mr. Harold, the town carpenter. There was complete serenity. Who would have thought this perfect Friday evening would turn out so horrible? I ran up to my mother and kissed her on the cheek. Ma was busily hanging laundry on the clothesline and I reckon I startled her. She was not too happy about being scared to death, but that is the same with everyone. I went to the fridge and grabbed a Coke. Then I plopped in the recliner and relaxed while I caught up on the baseball highlights from last night's games.

I was delighted to find the Diamondbacks, my home team, was doing pretty good this year. After awhile I stormed upstairs and called for my brother. I asked him if he wanted to play some baseball. He informed me our last baseball went over the fence a week ago. The two of us headed to the Dollar General on the corner and bought the last baseball in stock. What a lucky find we thought it was. Eagerly, we pranced down the block with a bat in one of my hands and a ball in the other.

THWACK! My brother pitched a curve ball, but my good eye for baseball allowed such a beautiful hit. It was a home-run, but at that moment, a home-run was very bad. I knew I had to muster some courage and retrieve the ball and the others that patently sat on the lawn and cement across the fence. I cautiously slipped between the wires and tip-toed around the diner, collecting the baseballs. Suddenly, I heard a shuffle noise coming from inside. I sprinted like a mad jaguar and leaped over the fence. I was in pain. It got me. The last thing I remember was my brother ran up to me to see if I was alright. He was grabbed and dragged under the fence into the wretched diner. I never saw him again.

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