New GirlPriscilla Newman moved to town on January first. She wore white shirts with blue jeans and black high heels. Her blonde ringlets fell in perfect strands, adorned with pink hair-clips. She was perfect.
Her voice was like a kitten's mew, and whenever she forgot her homework, she would pull that trick. The teacher would always ignore her. But I didn't think much of that - whenever anyone pulled an excuse, the teacher would ignore them. I hated Priscilla.
There was something about my dreams, though. I would fall asleep quickly at night, ever since Priscilla's arrival. My dreams would be fuzzy, and I could just make out greenish figures loping towards me. I'd try to run, but quicksand would be around my ankles. I always woke up just as the first cold hand landed on my shoulder.
The nightmares began to get worse, though. Gradually, the landscape focused. I could see the details of the figures. They had bulging yellow eyes, dripping with a slimy sickening goop. Chunks of decaying flesh hung off their bodies. They wore only black rags. And I began waking up later in the dream. Instead of awakening just in the nick of time, I wouldn't be able to wake up until the zombies had pulled me to the ground.
I had a feeling it had to do with Priscilla. It seemed impossible - the new girl, controlling my dreams. Every morning, when I went to school, she would look beaten down and tired. Like my bad dreams drained her. I knew it was a horrible thought, but I couldn't get rid of it. The idea just kept nagging at me.