Prologue
I’m afraid to dream. No, afraid of my meetings with the underworld representative in my dreams. I try not to believe the dreams, especially when I know dreams are formed by my own imagination. It’s getting harder and harder to withstand the temptation to speak back to the devil.
He keeps coming back, reminding me of the promise he seemed to think I had made with my silence. I can speak to him anytime, but I’m not ready and the time is coming closer. It’s becoming inevitable. Again, my wild thoughts have taken the better of me.
The Devil calls me the, “Devilette” in my dreams. The name itself I cannot hear without shivering and forming images of me being the actual “Devilette.” I can’t imagine what will happen if I wake up one day and find I’m no longer on the surface of earth, but rather under it.
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It’s night right now. I remember the cackle in my dream, “Thirteen is the Devil’s number, my dear Devilette.” If I see him in my dreams tonight, it’ll be the thirteenth time. He said he’d take me away when my thirteenth birthday arrives. Tomorrow’s my birthday. The hands of the clock will change any moment now. I won’t go to sleep. The Devil can’t take me away. I try to convince myself. I try to believe he can only come through to me in dreams.
Chapter 1
Day 1 (the day after the 13th dream): My life has not changed at all. I’m still in the same room, home, and on the surface of earth. However, the dreams continue to come.
I at last spoke to him in my dreams, asking him to let me stay. He said there were consequences, that things would be different with my surroundings and me. I said I’d do anything to continue my normal life. Whatever the consequences are, I do not know for I have yet to discover them.

Jenn glanced from corner to corner trying to figure out the meaning of her consequences. Dizziness expelled her from the task. Oh, how did that pink bulletin board get there? I thought it was yellow. She sat on her bed, confused. Her mother’s singing voice downstairs gave her relief. Yes, it really was her home. No one could ever imitate her mother’s sweet soothing voice. She sighed and called down the stairs, “Mother, did you buy me a new board?” There was no reply. “Mother? MOTHER?” Her anxiety came back. Had the devil taken her innocent mother? She had just heard her voice a while ago.
to be continued