Randomly Generated Genre:
Randomly Generated Title: Skeletons Following Me
Time: 35 Minutes (For real though)
“Wh-What was that?” Mouses whispered, his ghostly legs scrunched towards his chest. Auberon’s hands were over his mouth and nose, trying to breathe–to stay calm. But the quivering of Mouses’s twigish body wasn’t helping.
“A–A bird. Or something,” The noble leader uttered through his thick palms.
“It sounded like Lexi screamin’,” Mouses whimpered, “Should we–“
“A bird, Mouse. Get off it.” Auberon rolled onto his feet. “And if you dare step out that door I’m gonna do worse to you than some dumb ghost.”
The command aligned comfortably with Mouses’s cowardice, so he nodded in agreement. Auberon paced, like a caged animal, performing just the right amount of mental gymnastics it took to get himself to believe his own words. It was all a joke. It wasn’t his fault. It was all a joke.
“Yeah… yeah we’re fine, Mouse. Let’s, uh, talk about something. How… How have you been doing?”
Mouses looked about as surprised as a cat caught in the rain. Auberon was about as caring as a starved coyote.
“Oh–Uh–Well, I asked out Mary Mathers yesterday and–“
Auberon stilled, looking rather impressed. “Huh. And here I thought you was queer.”
Mouses’s face flushed, mouth agape, “You thought I was–“
BAM BAM BAM BAM.
It was not the front door.
It was the wood beneath them.
Auberon pressed himself to the wall, Mouses jumped onto the cheap card table in the corner.
“Was–” Mouses hid under his jacket, “Was that–“
BAM BAM BAM BAM.
The floorboards raised with each hit, warped wood creaking. Auberon was as white as a fresh marshmallow.
“That ain’t no bird, boss!” Mouses screamed over the pounding.
“It’s–It’s an earthquake, you dope!”
“Oh cripes, oh cripes, we’re gonna get killed!”
“Shut your trap!” Auberon watched the floor. The boards were splitting enough to see something underneath. A small, black circle. No, it was an eye; a bird’s eye–
All of his feigned confidence shattered. With a speed that would shame a hot rod, he bolted to the door.
“Wait–boss!” Mouse shouted, bouncing up and down atop his card table.
“Sorry, Mousey, but I’m splitting from this popsicle stand.” With a great heave, the door–
Remained exactly where it was. Auberon’s brows drew together. “What the–” He pulled once more, calling upon the strength of his newly discovered manhood. A vein popped from his forehead, a plus sign so defined it looked like a four-way stop for his zits to travel across. Still, the door remained firm.
“HA!” Mouse called from across the room, “Serves you right!”
“SHUT UP!” Auberon placed a boot against the frame, and continued to yank. The door gave way. Or at least, the handle did.
The leader of the Skeleton Squad looked at the handle in his palm with as much horror as a student taking an algebra final he didn’t study for.
BAM BAM BAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!
Floorboards shattered. One plank flew into the air, hitting Mouses square in the forehead. The scrawny boy fell off the table, holding onto his head. Auberon couldn’t help but cackle, “Did you see that? You just–“
Another plank flew into the air, hitting Auberon between the legs. The macho man was abruptly reduced to a toddler. He bent over, grabbing his crotch, tears crawling down his pink face.
It was during Mouses’s laugh (and Auberon’s wailing) that a black mass broke through the floor. With a many flirt and flutter, hundreds of birds emerged, ramming into the ceiling, into the walls, and towards them. Neither boy could hear their own screams over the beating of wings, the scratching of talons, and the cawing. The cawing was the worst. Auberon didn’t have a sense of person, of purpose.
“I want my mommy!” He screamed, hands still tenderly supporting his crotch.
Mouse was hiding beneath his jacket, using it like a tortoise shell. “I’m sorry, ghost kid! I’m sorry! Take Auberon!”
“What did you just say?” Auberon hissed.
The birds stilled. But did not land. They were all hovering in the air, as if held up by strings. Hundreds of beady eyes on them both.
A figure, pure white, emerged from the hole. A boy, their age. He looked normal (outside of the radiating white of his body) until he turned towards Auberon. Half of his head was smushed inwards. Bone was poking out of the skull cavity, gray chunks of brain visible.
It was the kid from earlier.
Auberon fell to his knees, hands clasped together. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it! It was an accident!”
Mouses’s jaw dropped, the look of disbelief clear.
“It–It was actually all Mouse’s idea.”
The deceased boy approached the gang-leader. His eyes were black, dead, and his face was passive. When he was before Auberon, his pale hand raised. And, in the same manner as Auberon had done to his sister, gripped onto Auberon’s throat. The leader couldn’t breathe, and tried grabbing at the boy’s hand. No matter how hard he tugged, he couldn’t get the boy to let go.
A smile, slow, twisted, spread across the corpse’s lips. In a voice as chilling as the cawing of the birds, the boy whispered, “Who’s the joke now?“
I’m so glad I had a time limit because this could have gone on for way longer than it did. And it needed to die. As did Auberon.