The PresenT

Rhea Otero

Once, at my 18th birthday, my mom gave me a bottle. It was covered in dust and bugs. In the front, I saw an eyeball. I jumped and screamed. When my mom took one look at it, her eyes widened. As I was looking at the eyeball, it looked straight at me. I asked my mom about who used to own the bottle. My mom gave me a worried look. She said it used to be owned by my greatgrandfather. I looked back at the bottle. It wasn’t looking at me anymore, it was looking at my mom. My mom was terrified. She said that I had to look after it. She then ran toward her room and locked it. I glanced back down at the bottle. It still had some juice in it. I decided to try it. I wanted to know the taste of this juice. I decided to be risky today. I lifted the bottle, shaking. I then poured the juice into my mouth. I then gulped it down. I felt sick. However, it didn’t do anything to me. I just felt weird after drinking a juice coming out of an old bottle, and somehow, I felt like I was being watched.

To be continued . . .