First page of a novel that I started writing today and would probably never complete…

“OMG, this is so like Hangover,” she said, as she lay under the bed, clearly uncomfortable.

“Except we are not hung over,” I helpfully added.

“Hmm…” was her only reply.

I patted my hair for the brazillionth time, trying to frantically dust off imaginary friendly spiders that may have crawled into it.

“Stop fidgeting!” she whispered, pretty loudly. “He may find us,” she added as an afterthought.

I acquiesced.

I was going to turn 25 in a month. And here I was, playing Hide & Seek with my precocious seven-year-old cousin who was mature enough to reference Hangover movie and understand the term “hung over” (considering the fact that she was probably born at the time the script writing sessions for the movie began).

I suddenly felt unsure about my choice.

“Do you think he is going to find us here?” I whispered.

“Yeah, just keep talking loudly like this,” she shot back, her eyes literally blazing now.

Uh oh, somebody has taken the game very seriously.

I smoothed my unruly hair again and my elbow hit the underside of the bed, making a thud that seemed to magnify a thousand times in the death silence that engulfed the house.

I did not turn toward her for fear of being engulfed by the flames that threatened to shoot out of her eyes. There was a sudden patter of footsteps. I could see a pair of feet that came to rest near our hiding place. The feet went around the bed, checking behind the bureau.

 I almost snorted sarcastically. Behind the bureau, really?

The feet proceeded to walk out of the room. I turned to my cousin and raised my eyebrows at her, in a superior way, highlighting the fact that my choice of hiding place turned out to be a winner. She just rolled her eyes.

I suddenly shrieked as I could feel my feet being pulled out from under the bed. My head hit the bed again in the melee as sinister laughter echoed all around.

I climbed out of my hiding place, sat up groggily and stared at my younger cousin brother, source of the sinister sound, looking back at me triumphantly with a wide grin on his face.

“OMG, this is so like Taken!” he said, proceeding to jump up and down in happiness as he declared me “out”.

Kids, I thought as I rolled my eyes. It then idly crossed my mind that this was another movie that a young child should not have referenced.

“Don’t you have parental controls on your TV remote at home?” I asked him, screwing up my eyes as I rubbed the fast-growing lump on my head.

“No,” he replied, “do you?”

I decided it was best not to pursue that line of conversation. I was a mature 24-year-old girl, and I would not be drawn into a verbal ping-pong exchange with a 5-year-old.

Suddenly, I sensed something amiss.

I looked at him and frantically signed that his elder sister was hiding under the bed too. He put his finger on his lips and stealthily urged me to get up and walk out of the door alongside him. He then left me at the door as he suddenly pounced back into the room, shrieking loudly at his elder sister hiding under the bed.

“Out, OUt, OUT!” I heard him chanting gleefully as he completely disregarded accusations of cheating that spewed forth from his obviously irritated elder sister.

“OMG, this is so like Taken,” I murmured to myself excitedly.




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