Page 12 of M.M. Scrooge
I don’t care about happy. I care aboutwealthy. Once I’m rich, happiness will follow. “Don’t worry about me. Tell everyone I said hello.”
“Merry Christmas, Max.”
“Bye, Mom.”
I hang up, glad that’s over with. Talking with family is tedious, even if it’s just my mother. She means well, but I always feel like I’ve let her down. Our priorities are opposite.
As I set the phone down, movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. But when I look, nothing’s there.
What the fuck?
Next to me, the dog begins to snore. His breath smells like beef kibble. I don’t understand why people have pets.
A creak from farther in the house startles me, but Timmy doesn’t bat an eyelash, still out of it. When it happens again, I get up to investigate. Must be something easy to explain. Tree branches against the house? A pressure shift causing the old wooden floor to swell?
No matter how much I tell myself there’s a simple explanation, that sinking feeling slams back with a wallop. Like I’m not alone. Like I’m being watched.
On my toes, I creep from the living room toward the bedrooms, passing Jess’s door. The noise comes again from my room. Too bad Timmy isn’t a guard dog. Just a lazy bag of bones that eats its weight in kibble every week and farts while I’m trying to watch TV.
Another creak, like a door opening on rusty hinges, makes me jump out of my skin. The contents of my stomach are doing somersaults. Maybe I shouldn’t investigate after all. Maybe I don’t want to know what’s in my room. Maybe I want to get into my car and drive far, far away from here.
It’s dark in my room. Too dark. To get to the light switch, I’ll need to pass over the threshold, but the idea of continuing forward terrifies me. Should have brought the phone. Could have used the flashlight.
Frozen in my tracks, I take a couple of shaky breaths. Should I go back for my phone?
Get it together, Max. You’re a grown man. There’s nothing to be afraid of in this house. Ghosts aren’t real.
A chilly breeze cools my nape, bristling the hairs. I spin, expecting to see something behind me.
The hallway is empty.
The creaking gets louder, followed by a thump. I turn again. A robed figure looms.
A scream rips from my throat as I shuffle backward. I lose my balance and fall on my ass.
A creature hovers over me. A stranger clad in black and surrounded by shadow. I can’t make out his face. My heart threatens to race from my chest.
I scoot back, shrieking for the dog, but Timmy doesn’t save me.
The stranger nears, growing bigger as he gets close to my face.
This isn’t real. Can’t be real. Not real. Not real. Not real.
He freezes in place. “Boo.”
Another scream dies in my throat. I can’t push it out. I’m staring into—Where are his eyes?—vacant black holes, the depths of which I can’t decipher. A melted face veiled in gray, stale breath smelling of rotten eggs, a tattered cloak brushing over my skin.
The creature laughs.
I scramble away, my breath coming out in shallow pants. It lets me go, cackling its amusement. The creaking hasn’t stopped. It’s louder now, ringing in my ears. Another thud shakes the house. The floor vibrates beneath me.
Oh my god, I’m going to pass out. I’m going to pass out, and this beast is going to devour me, and no one is going to know.
No one is going to care.
* * *
When I come to,the ground is still shaking. It’s cold where I lie on the hardwood floor, in the middle of the hall, by myself in my house, which is clearly haunted.
