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Weekly Contest #80
Nine-year-old Baako woke up, sat on his bed in his thatched hut rubbing his eyes, his dark brown curly locks falling all over his forehead. He looked at the clock. It was 8 a.m. He cast a glance outside. It was pitch dark. The shadowy figures of tall trees were scary, their silhouette lent an air of dread. Finding it a bit weird and scary he moved his hands here and there on the bed searching for his parents. But they were not to be. His heart raced faster; fear enveloped him. He wondered why he could not hear the chirping of birds nor th...
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