Skeletons
Skeletons. call them what you will, Boneboys, skulluloids, tooth gentlemen. There's no doubt that they're the spookiest of all the halloween creatures. Thank goodness they're not real. Or are they? A year ago to this very day my great uncle Reginald died, he lost his life in a boating accident when the slow moving ship he was on board crashed into a jetty just like in the movie Speed 2: Cruise Control, starring Sandra Bullock. In his will he left his house to me, with one condition.
"Before you move into the house you will have to spend one night. In the house." Said the lawyer. "Did you say the house is haunted?" I asked. The lawyer looked down at his notes. "Nope, no reports of any spookological activity or phantoms, just a regular old house." "Or is it?" I asked, and the lawyer told me to let go of his hand and leave his office. Sure, I was scared of ghosts, but I was more scared of not being able to buy a house in the current economic climate. That night I arrived at the dark and mysterious building. An eerie wind whistled through the culturally innapropriate dream-catcher hung up on the balcony, and in the distance a wolf howled. I made my way into the house. Inside I could see all manner of blood-curdling, bone-chilling things like glow in the dark ghosts painted on the walls, and rubber spiders dangling from the ceiling. I put my bags down in my room and went to the bathroom to freshen up.
As I washed my hands the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I felt the temprerature of the room drop by several degrees. I looked up and screamed so much that a little bit of wee came out, because a terrifying hooded figure was standing there in the mirror, but it wasn't just any terrifying hooded figure. I could see right through it. "Who are you?" I said, keeping it cool and pretending to splash water on my pants so you couldn't tell a bit of wee had come out. The figure raised a hand. "I am the ghost of old man Nickleback." Of course. I should have realised. Old man Nickleback had been a friend of uncle Reginald's, and he'd always worn a terrifying hood, it was kind of his thing. He'd disappeared mysteriously nearly 10 years ago "My soul can find no rest without your help." His voice sounded desperate, and a little bit entitled. Like an old woman asking for her third free coffee at McDonalds. "Of course I'll help, but what can I do?" Old man Nickleback explained. "My soul must wander the earth until my skeleton has been released from it's torment." "A s-s-sk-skeleton?" I stuttered. "But I thought skeletons were just something adults made up to scare kids, like clowns, or Bronwyn Bishop." Old man Nickelback laughed, and faded from view.
After that there were a series of spooky incidents involving a Dracula, a walking brain, and a ghoul I guess. But finally I came upon a locked door. Written on the door in what could have been blood or just red paint were the words "Definitely Not My Murder Room. - Uncle Reg" I was greeted by the sight of bones. Human bones that is. At once I suspected that it might be the skeleton of old man Nickleback, former human now ghost. But there was no way of telling, except for the sticker on the front that said "I am the skeleton of old man Nickleback". I called for Old Man Nickleback. "Yes, these are my bones. Hidden here after your uncle Reginald murdered me." My beloved uncle Reginald, who I'd always thought wasn't a murderer, turned out to have been a murderer. How ironic. I gave the bones back to old man Nickleback, who gave a thumbs up while his soul flew straight up to Heaven. Meanwhile the soul of my uncle Reginald was down in the other place. Evil Heaven. I slept well that night. And when the lawyer called me up the next morning and asked how my night was I said "Let's just say it was the ride of a death time." We both laughed, but there's nothing funny about skeletons. Stay safe out there, whatever you are.
Original author unknown
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