Mysteries In my street


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2. The life I lead

My name is Angelina Brockwood. I'm thirteen, and I live in London, England.
My actual street is something special- about half of its residents don't come out until dusk- the other half are mentally disturbed people who are up at about 5AM mowing the lawn.
My parents are dead- they mysteriously disappeared when I was ten and my baby brother was 4. Now he's a little horror, at the age of 7. My grandmother lives up the street- but she's one of those mentally challenged people- apparently when she was younger she used to date hippies and drug dealers and motorbike guys. Now she just stays huddled up in the darkest corner of her house, muttering nonsense, with a bunch of candles. Like a witch. As to mention it, my brother, little horror, Josh seems more hyper at the full moon. Maybe he's a were-wolf. When my mum and dad were alive, I was forbidden to go out at night. I never knew why until after they had died. I had to go out at night because I had forgotten to go buy milk from Sainsbury's. I had only got to the top of the driveway, when something pushed me over. A certain something with glistening white fangs, sparkling with saliva. I screamed at the top of my lungs. But then I was alone. All alone, on the ground- without a trace of the monster that was about to kill me. I didn't go out at night again after that. I installed an extra lock on the door, and put locks on all the windows. I had a feeling I was always being watched. I still do, even when I go out in daytime, when the sun is high in the sky, I carry a small weapon concealed about my person. A dagger, inside my sock, ready to whip out and stab anyone who dares mess with me.
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