The room is dark except for the light coming through the crack in the curtains from the full moon. A twin-sized bed sits across the room from the window. On its left is a small dresser, and on the right is an end table with an old small lamp. A book sits beside the lamp.
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The wall to the left of the window is painted with a forest mural, and the door leading to the hall is part of a large oak tree.
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Across from the mural is the closet door, which is cracked partially, with a dark-colored sweater keeping it from closing entirely. The clothes inside were haphazardly thrown onto hangers. The shoes are in a pile in the corner.
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A teenage boy pulls the covers from over his head and rubs his eyes, "what was that?"
He looks over at the window, but no shadows play against it from outside.
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Sitting up, he looks around the room, trying to pinpoint the direction of the sound.
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Climbing from beneath his warm comforter, he pads over to the closet in his bare feet, using his toes to push the sweater in, and closes the door.
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Quickly he turns toward the outer door, and hurries over to it, swinging it open.
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Frantically, he looks around, the sound appears to be moving.
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As he is about to call out to his parents, he decides to throw on the light.
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There, on the floor sits his cat, Wilbur, swatting a ball of paper around, each time he swats it, it goes...
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