Then she woke up again. Elizabeth got out of bed. She felt as if she had been sleeping forever, and she had a throbbing headache. But everything was normal now. It had all been a bad dream... a insane, awful, horribly realistic dream. She tried to get those thoughts out of her mind, so she drew the shades and opened the window. Light streamed in, illuminating the room. And then she saw the note. Curious, she picked up the yellowing piece of paper and read the fine handwriting:
Our plans have gone awry, and It still lives. By the time you read this, it will be too late.
P.S. The "it" in the second sentence is not the same it as the "It" in the first sentence. I'm just clearing that up for you as you are well aware of my problem with vague pronoun references. NOW BEWARE!
The light in the sky began to turn from blue to a sickly pinkish-yellow pastel, and static electricity filled the air, but Elizabeth ignored everything going on around her. She held the letter tight in her hands. She recognized the writing; for a few brief moments she thought she might even be able to connect it to a face or a name. But she knew one thing for certain, it was not from anyone living...
(OP: Nate, January 31 2007)
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