The door slowly creaked open as the last rays of the sun crept in through the cracks in the wall. The figure stepped through the door and into the room only to find the room empty. She hesitated, then turned and headed out of the room and back into the hall. She heard his voice again, calling to her . . . wanting her.

She tried the first door she came to only to find it locked. In a fit of fury, she slammed her weight against the door and it immediately opened. This room, too, was empty. The figure was getting impatient now. She needed to find the voice, his voice that was eluding her.

A creaking sound was made at the bottom of the stairs. The figure whirled, her heart beating wildly. Fear was beginning to build in her heart. What if he wasn't alone? What if he had brought him? Would he betray her like that? She hoped not. She wanted to think that he had loved her too much to give her over to him.

She slowly came to the stairwell and began to descend. At the bottom, she saw the door. The door to the outside, could that be where he was? She heard his voice again, and slowly she made her way to the door. Slowly she turned the knob. Please let it be him . . . only him on the other side.

After a period of holding her breath, she pulled opened the door inch by inch until she could see outside. There wasn't anybody there. She stepped out onto the porch, and as she saw the buildings she ventured out into the street. She was about to run back inside when she heard him calling to her again. It was coming from down the street. Each step sent sounds echoing throughout which in turn, sent chills through her body. The figure hesitated, she could turn back now if she needed to.

No, she must go on. She continued down the street until she was straight across from the jailhouse. She stopped and held her breath and then she gasped as she heard his voice again. It was coming from inside . . . inside the jailhouse. She waited.

She could hear her own heartbeat. It was getting louder and louder. She must go on. She must turn back. Indecision began gnawing at her. Without knowing it, her feet slowly moved towards the jailhouse. She tentatively held out her hand towards the doorknob. The cold feel of the knob gave the figure a sinking feeling on her insides. His voice from within was drawing her in. She resisted, but the invisible arm already had her in it's clutches. She relented.

The door gave a squeal as she turned the knob and pushed it forward. The figure slowly pushed the door open to find . . . nothing. The room was empty. She stepped a few feet inside to see better because it was somewhat dark, light came only from the moonlight shining through the windows and now the door that she had opened.

Suddenly the door closed behind her. She rushed to it, shook it, hit it, kicked it, but all to no avail. She was trapped. Hearing a noise she turned around. A ghostly image appeared before the figure. The figure's hair began to stand on end as the image glided across the room towards her. She stepped backwards until her back was pressed firmly against the door and she could go no further.

The figure wanted to scream but couldn't. Her feet was like lead. The image got closer and closer and then stopped. The image became clearer as he stopped in front of her. He was the last man on this earth that she wanted to see. She tried to let out a scream, but she couldn't . . . she couldn't breathe.

The figure wasted no time getting out of the jailhouse when she could finally move. To her amazement this time when she turned the knob, the door opened. She looked over her shoulder just in time to see the image following her. The figure bounded down the stairs, into the street and ran back towards the house. She could hear the image's voice not too far behind her. He was yelling for her to stop. She saw the door to the house. She must reach it before the image got her. The door seemed like miles away as she ran towards it. The image was getting closer and closer as the figure reached the door. It was locked!

She turned around to see the ghostly image, Sheriff Teaspoon, with a noose in his hands. He was coming for her. He wanted her head. She started tossing and turning in bed. She was scared to death . . . afraid that he was going to lynch her. She held her breath hoping that he would leave, but as he came closer, she let out a terrifying scream.

The figure turned into a girl who had just had a bad nightmare.

He heard her screaming, and he came dashing to her door. He stopped right outside it. He knew it was no use. He couldn't help her from her tormenting nightmares. If only he knew what caused them, then maybe he could help her, but she wouldn't tell him. And though several times he had tried to comfort her, she had always seemed so aloof. So he stood just outside her door and listened while she screamed. He heard her yell "No Teaspoon! NOOO!! I didn�t do it. It wasn�t me. It wasn�t." After that he didn�t hear any more sounds. He thought of knocking and asking her if she was ok, but then he decided not to, and so reluctantly he returned to his room. His room was right next door to hers. He had planned it that way in hopes that their relationship might blossom into something more permanent, but so far she only saw him as her savior and a friend, nothing more.

John returned to his room, but he didn�t go to sleep. Instead he thought of the beautiful girl in the room next to his and wondered who this fella Teaspoon was. It definitely was someone that terrified his sweet Kitten so much that she rarely had a restful night. He would find out who this Teaspoon fella was if it was the last thing he ever did. Then he would vanquish his Kitten�s nightmare for good.