"Luke," May Castellan called to her son. "I have your lunch ready!"
Luke walked up the front porch steps and inside the house. May closed the front door behind him and headed toward the kitchen, then she double over. Luke spun around and saw what was about to happen.
She was going to have another fit.
She straightened and opened her eyes. They glowed a spooky green and Luke made a run for the closet, but May was quick. She grabbed Luke's shoulder and started speaking in a raspy voice.
"Terrible fate. No, not my son."
He yelped and wrenched free. He slipped into the closet and shut the door quickly. In the darkness he sat, knees to his chest shaking like a leaf.
What if she found him like last time? What if she—
"Luke, where are you my boy? I have your lunch ready!"
So the storm had passed, for now. With shaking fingers, he turned the handle and the door swung open. Luke went into the kitchen and slouched in a chair.
"There you go." She smiled down at her son as she handed him the lunch plate.
When she turned around to pour his Kool-Aide, he picked up the cookie and dropped it back onto his plate. The black edges crumbled off releasing a fresh wave of burnt smell.
He gagged.
The charred remains of chocolate chips caved in from the top and more particles flew up.
Enough fits and burnt cookies.
It was time to leave.
