Bone Shivers

Curtains white as bone, swish lazily to a tune only they can hear. The moon’s watchful eye bores down on a small quiet house; It’s baneful, sadness reeks in waves to any brave enough to venture near. The word house may be too insufficient a word to use- shack is more accurate. One soulless night, a woman of late fifties, finds herself walking by this lonely house one sweltering summer’s eve. A woman of questionable morals, she indeed was, and with no home, family, or money to her name, she decides to sleep there for the evening.

She marches straight up to the porch, and congratulates herself on her bravery, for she had heard the rumors of this melancholy place. She opens the door, goes upstairs, the boards groaning under her slight weight, perhaps they were trying to warn her. She finds a dusty bedroom with a mattress upon the floor and a couple of moth-eaten sheets. She shuts the bedroom door to ward off the draft she says, certainly not from fear, of course. A soft sigh from the house and a word emits ever feather light, “No.” Perhaps, because warnings are often ignored, because like the word they are faint.

Either way the woman chooses to ignore the soft word and collapses onto the bed for sleep. It takes an hour to calm her racing heart, to feel safe enough to sleep. When she does finally drift, she is awoken by a soft caress of air on her cheek. She is paralyzed with fear, so much so that she is afraid to even open her eyes. It’s just the wind please, ‘tis just the wind. This house is old, that is all. Finally rationalizing enough to gather the strength to open her eyes. She see the bedroom door had come open and was swinging gently back and forth. She watches that door, fear growing as it starts to open more and more. The anticipation of something on the other side of the door has her whimpering in fear and tears threatening to spill down her withered face.

Once the door is all the way open emitting a loud deafening groan that echoes the length of the house, it reveals...nothing. She tries not to feel too relieved upon seeing nothing in the hall and lays there, tense, waiting for the jump scare. Nothing and no sound comes forth, so she gradually starts to relax again. There is a gentle caress along her spine. She locks up again, eyes flying open. “You should have listened to me, darling.” The bedroom door slams shut and it never opens again.