~Joseph
By the time my wife entered Daniel’s room, I had started to get up, and had finally slowed my breathing down.
“What happened?” my wife, Anna, asked.
“Daniel said that there was something in his closet,” I replied. “So I went in to look. As I came out I tripped over his backpack.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Daniel told me. “I’ll clean up in there tomorrow. But you sure were in the closet for a long time.”
“Yeah, I know. I was checking it well for my favorite son.”
“I’m your only son, Dad.” Daniel laughed.
I smiled. “Okay, goodnight!”
“’Night!”
“See you in the morning, Daniel,” his mom said.
Daniel rolled over; turning away from us, so Anna and I both quietly left his room for ours.
I stayed up late that night, still thinking of what I had seen in the closet. I was glad that Anna didn’t question me about it.
But I couldn’t get to sleep no matter how hard I tried. I glanced over to make sure that Anna was asleep, then stood up quietly and stretched. I tiptoed down the hall and back into Daniel’s room. A quick glance told me that he too was awake.
“Hey,” I whispered. “Can’t get to sleep?”
“Yeah…” he replied.
“Uh-huh—me neither. Hey, why don’t you come sleep with us tonight?”
He immediately crawled out of bed and walked back with me.
Once we were in my bed, we both fell asleep immediately.
~7~
~Joseph
The next morning I woke up to find that Daniel and Anna were already in the kitchen preparing breakfast. It was a Sunday, and I remembered that I had off work today. I was glad, because I needed time to think about what had happened.
After I ate, I realized that I needed to go somewhere. First I had the irrational thought of going to a bar, but that would be stupid, because I would sit there, be bored, and drink a coke. I hated alcohol.
Then I had another irrational thought: moving away from this house with the haunted closet. But I couldn’t do that—and besides, everyone in my house would question me about it.
So finally, I decided that I would go visit my friend, John.
He too was off work, and he lived alone, so I just went and visited his house. Immediately he asked me what was wrong.
I didn’t know if I had just been a terrible guest to him, or if fear showed on my face. I hoped it was the latter.
A moment passed before I said anything, then I dove into my story. I told him every detail of what had happened in the closet.
When I finished, John nodded. “Actually,” he said, “I think that I can help you on this. I believe that it has to do with a myth called the Reaper’s Song, or the Song of Death. You know of the Grim Reaper, I am sure—he is the Ghost of Death. Well, the myth is that he is a deadly musician, and it talks about a song that he plays just before he takes someone. From your description of the song, I believe that it is the same. But all the other facts from your story have to do with it.
“First you noticed the song, which was my original clue. Then you talked about the wind. You have experienced, I’m sure, the powers of wind over the weather. For example, if there is a heavy wind on a cold, cloudy day, you will be enticed to stay in a building. However, if it’s a warm, sunny day, a cool breeze will compel you to go outside. The Reaper also uses wind to control things. There have been times where he uses a small, weak hurricane as a form of hypnotism, and there are also instances such as yours, where he uses the wind to move things, or people.
“Third, the field. The Reaper likes to work on flat areas, where there is no secrecy. He would rarely use a forest, but a field, or a calm sea would work well to his liking.”
“Wait—” I interrupted, “since the field was flat, how come I couldn’t see the violinist?”
“I would imagine that he was behind you, and he spun you around when your shirt flew into your face.
“Now,” John said, “if I may continue… I am sure that until you reached him, the Reaper was in the form of a black ghost. But he wouldn’t want you to see him, so when you got there, he turned into a spark. I am sure of it, because when he was a spark, he tried to entrance you, to bring you off your guard. Then he used it for another purpose—to light the violin on fire. Fire is a symbol of destruction, so it’s one of his favorites.
“And he then used the smoke to get away. Smoke or clouds are his favorite form, besides the Ghost body.
“Finally, he attempted to use the fire to kill you. I’m sorry that this sounds morbid, but I am surprised that you escaped.”
I nodded, understanding. I was surprised I escaped as well.
“Is that all?” John asked.
“Yes, I guess…” I had one more question—what was it doing in my son’s closet?—but I refrained from asking. I didn’t think that John would know, and I wasn’t sure that I even wanted to know. So instead, I said, “Thanks for the explanation,” and unceremoniously left his house.
I knew that it was a terrible thanks, but I was frightened, and I couldn’t think of anything to say.
QUESTIONS
1) Has the story started to get boring yet?
2) Is everything understood better now? Are you still hopelessly confused?
3) How is my description? Where does it need more, where less?
4) Did you understand John's explanation? (If not, I need to rewrite that part...)
Once again, thanks for reading!
Teh Wozzinator
