My name is Yumi
"The Dramatic Story of Deception, Stumbling and Moving On."

My name is YUMI. I'm a writer, blogger and a hobbyist in Drawing. I like dogs and video games. I hate too many things.

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Peces como mascotas.

And it was 4 AM

The lightning struck and it was 4 AM. I was alone in the house today. Sitting in the bedroom, watching the rain wash over the crystal of my window. The angry pitter patter of the drops hitting the glass like a mad man and his nails knocking for someone to let him out of the cold. I sat in bed with my eyes gazing dreamily into the chaos outside.


The rumble echoed in my head. All I could see was black and white. I felt the bed shake. My fingers clutched onto the mattress.

My core shivered, casting trembles down my physical being before I shuddered and blinked. I did not realize that I was sitting in the dark in a dream. It had to be a dream, wasn’t it? If I was alone in the house, who was the girl standing behind me in the reflection of the window?

You don’t understand.

I don’t have a little sister.

I don’t have a young niece.

I don’t have a guest in the age of 10.

I didn’t know anyone at that age.

And no, I did not have a daughter.

She didn’t wear a beautiful floral dress. She didn’t have ribbons in her hair. She wasn’t clothed in white, like the typical young girl would in our famous horror movies. I knew I wasn’t in a movie. I still wondered if I was dreaming. If I was, this had to be a lucid dream. Everything seemed so real. Felt real. My fingertips were frozen in the soft material of my blanket. Maybe my brain was playing tricks on me. Fuzzy traces of memories flashed before my eyes, trying to think of when I have ever seen a little girl in a black hooded coat. But the fear of not being alone crept up from the bed and onto my back and I didn’t have enough time nor energy to think correctly. I knew. I just knew. I had to be in a dream. If I was awake, I wish I was dreaming.

The second flash of lightning flooded my room and I fought to beat the speed of light by shutting my eyes as quickly as I could. But before I drowned myself in the dark I saw nothing in the reflection. Just myself. In bed. With a horrible look on my face.

It has been a while since I’ve had any sleep. My sockets looked more noticeable the past few days. I was a victim of many things - that included insomnia. And even if I was dead tired, exhausted from the days that passed - I was unable to sleep. That being said, discarded bottles of sleeping pills lay on the floor. An empty glass stood beside my reading lamp. I shouldn’t have taken so much. Maybe then I wouldn’t have started hallucinating. Was it even raining? Or was I just making all this up? What was the difference between reality and fantasy? Where was the line between those two worlds? I have long forgotten the difference and believed that they merged themselves with my sleeping pills and that last glass of water I took before I lay myself in bed.

I reached out to grab the glass and found myself short. My fingers hardly brushed against the cheek of the glass and all I grasped for was nothing but cold, rainy air. Then…


A faint cold tingly feeling hit the back of my outstretched hand. It grew colder and I pulled my arm towards me. Suddenly, I started to feel the wet sensation on my skin and my fingers brushed against it. It was water. My brows furrowed in the thought of a leak in my bedroom. All this rain made it apparent. Looking up to check on the ceiling, I saw nothing but grey. My eyes had been accustomed to the dark now. I have been sitting here for hours. But I continued staring into that corner of my room, trying to find that supposed prominent water stain on wood. But there was nothing there. Just the usual ceiling.


Water hit the center of my forehead and I froze once again to that icy feeling on my face.


It hit my shoulder.


Then my nose. And then my thigh. My knee. My arm. And all at once, the noise outside had brought itself in - and the next thing I knew, I was sitting in a soaked mattress. There was a storm in my room and it had begun to rain heavily. I could feel the soaked carpet under my feet flatten in that disgusting feeling of water and wool. The dark strands of my hair pressed onto the coldness of my cheeks. My hands had folded itself on top of my lap. I was drenched in rain water in my bedroom. The ceiling was crying because I was incapable of doing so. I only shivered in the cold but I didn’t want to question the weather. I sat there, face stoic of any emotion and my lips, wet and shivering only for a moment before I accepted the strangeness that was happening around me. I now wondered… When was the rain going to stop?

A flash of light struck across the sky and I blinked, unable to cope with the sudden brightness in the dark. But the reflection in the glass had once again been shown. I knew this had to be a dream. I knew I wasn’t alone.

When does it start raining red in a bedroom?

When did I have a young girl sitting beside me in the dark?



Artist: Miranda Meeks
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