Darkness greets me as I reluctantly open my eyes. The beeping of my alarm clock continues as I grumble and roll out of bed. I stumble to the opposite side of the room where I keep my alarm to insure I actually leave my bed. After vanquishing the sound, I stumble into the bathroom, reluctantly flipping on the light switch to bath my ancient shower stall in tepid light.
With a sigh, I turn on the water, so it can be as tepid the light by the time my teeth are clean. Soon my ablutions are done, my towel is sopping wet, and I need clothes to face the day.
I flip on the overhead light and stumble toward my dresser, deftly selecting an outfit without even looking. I am satisfied with my choice until I glance in the mirror. My reflection reveals that the shirt I am wearing doesn’t look right. I sigh heavily and head for the closet.
“A light jacket will fix this,” I mumble as I throw open the door and reach inside.
I scream. Instead of being met with the soft resistance of clothes, something hard bumps against my hand and then clatters eerily against itself. I take a deep bracing breath and open the door further to peer inside. Empty eye sockets stare back at me surrounded by yellowed bone. A toothy smile leers back at me despite the absence of two front teeth.
A handwritten note flutters from a string around its neck as I step closer, “I know all the skeletons in your closet.”
As I register the handwriting, my horror and revulsion fade to childish tittering. In fact, my laughter brings on a bought of hysteria. Soon I am lying on the floor, gasping for breath around violent guffaws.
When I finally pull myself together again, I rise from the floor and send a text.
“Found ur friend. Come get him.”
I wait for a couple of minutes without a reply before realizing that seven in the morning is way too early for the recipient to be awake. I reach past my closet’s new inhabitant to claim a light jacket.
My unexpected houseguest slips from my mind as I rush through my morning tasks. Then my phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the clock.
“11:00. Right on schedule.” I answer the call slowly and cup my hand over my mouth. “I know your secrets, too.” I whisper.
I am greeted by a familiar giggle. “Oh, Patsy, your secrets are my secrets. What do you think of our new friend?”
“He surprised me,” I answer hesitantly.
“How much?”
“What do you mean how much?”
“Did you wake up the neighbors?”
“No.”
“Did you pee your pants?”
“Certainly not.” I drop my hand as I hiss this.
She giggles again. “Too bad. Maybe we will have better luck at the haunter house.”
“Maybe. Since those people aren’t used to your tricks.”
She cackles and the line goes dead. I shake my head and go back to work, wondering exactly what a skeleton has to do with the dragon’s lair theme we chose for this year’s haunted house. I guess I will find out when I transport our bony friend to his new final resting place.
So this was meant to brighten your Friday, but life got in the way. Here it is to brighten your Monday instead. Hope it helps you get into the mood to spook and be spooked. Muhahahahaha!
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