|Courtesy of www.us-funerals.com|
Lacey collapsed onto the sofa. They had tried to make the funeral a celebration of her brother’s life: his relentless wind-ups, his love of scary films. She had spoken about how he terrified her with endless tricks. Everyone had laughed through their tears. They tried not to think about the shock ending: his poor ruined face after the accident.
Was it terrible to feel relief, finding the house at peace? No one jumping out at her, no fake spiders in her bed.
But then a dragging sound approached the door. There was silence, then scratching. A rattling breath. A moan.