"Perfect!" Ron mumbled and grumbled, the car bouncing up and down.
"Honey, lighten up! This is going to be fun! How many of your friends get to go to a place like this?" Ron's happy-go-lucky mom quipped.
" None 'cause they're all in California!" Ron yelled angry at her incompetence.
"Now son," Ron's father intervened, "Stop griping! Enjoy the scenery. Things will turn out, you'll see."
For the rest of the car ride, Ron doused out the world playing Metallica on his Ipod on high. Finally Ron felt the car com to a sudden stop. Ron took out his earphones and looked around. As he looked, Ron noticed that it was exactly how he imagined it to be. Brown grass, gray sky, barren landscape. When he was about to get out of the car, there was a rasping noise near his window. Ron screamed. Loudly. For there before him was an old man with no arms and... scissors?
"Dude, what's your problem?" Ron stuttered mollified.
"Your skin. I want your skin" The creepy guy whispered eyeing Ron's tan brazen arms.
Ron looked at his parents who didn't seem to notice.
"Did you just see that?! Did you hear that?! He wants my skin!! And, he doesn't have any arms!" Ron whispered to his dad as they got out of the car.
"Ron, are you okay? This is Mr. Whithers, our neighbour. He'll be helping around town. Besides, he doesn't want your skin because he still has arms. See?" Ron's dad explained.
He was right! Mr. Withers had arms and no scissors to be found.
Mr. Withers then said, "Follow me. I'll show you to your rooms."
Ron's family walked into a glorified shack a.k.a, a cottage. Despite his father's corrections, Ron still clung tightly to his mothers purple skirt. She detached him when Mr. Withers showed the parents into their room where there was a maid waiting for them. Ron followed Mr. Withers down a barely lit hallway.
"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Ron questioned. Mr. Withers just grunted.
At the end of the hall that seemed to go on forever, there was a huge room filled with people.
"We've been waiting for you Ron," A maid creepily stated, "We need something of yours."
"Get away from me wierdos! I don't know what kind of sick joke this, i just want to leave." He said as he moved towards the door.
Suddenly the door slammed open and his parents entered. Ron had to do a double take. "These can't be my parents." he thought.
Their skin was molten gray, their eyes sunken and lifeless; fresh blood dripping from their wounds. As he noticed this, his mom's arm fell off and he screamed. Then Ron knew Mr. Withers was a thing not to be messed with.
"What did you do to my parents, you creep?! Sure, they annoyed me at times, but I didn't want them dead." Ron cried.
"Relax Ron. I didn't kill them, merely turned them into zombies." Mr. Withers corrected. "I control them now."
"Wha-wha-what do you want from me? Money, power, our car? Just tell me and I'll give it to you." Ron was bargaining now.
"Good man. I knew you'd come to your senses," Mr. Withers said, "Because all we need is something very little. It'll just pinch a bit."
Instantly, every-one's arms fell out and were replaced by scissors.
"We want your skin! We want your skin!" The mass of bodies endlessly chanted as they congealed around Ron.
That was the last thing he ever heard.

Yeah, I'm weird like that.
i think it needs something but i cant put my finger on it