Author's notes: Okay people, long time, no see! A lot of crap has been hitting the fan, so I haven't been able to write as much as I used too. Though, I have decided to make it up to you guys! Enjoy this plate of hot, steaming chapters, friends and neighbors!
George sulked into the armchair, eyes staring steadily at the fireplace, arms crossed over his thin chest. The flames in the fire licked at the brick sides, nothing but a screen separating the fire from the livingroom.
Like that mattered when he came here.
Ah yes, the Bone Man. Skeleton Dude. Creepy, good for nothing, son of a bitch. Or whatever else George called him. He was thirteen, puberty taking its toll on him. His pride had escalated, though even more so now than ever. From the time when the girls had cooties to...this. From playing with trains, to hanging out with friends and talking about the new girl in their English class.
I'll kill him again if I have to.
That night was still burned in his memory. Then again, how in the world could someone forget that? George fidgeted, glancing to the hall that lead to his dad's bedroom, then back again at that fireplace. Oh, revenge was going to be sweet.
He had seen that skeleton, the horrifically fake Santa that crawled-like a spider-into his home and deposited presents that held horrors beyond that of which his mind could hold. George wasn't effected to badly by them. Of course, he didn't know it at the time, that his presents were nothing compared to what some children received. All he got was a pretty banged up car, the wheels to messed up to roll.
Though it was my sister...
Yes, it was his sister that got the truly terrifying gift.
The dead thing, as she called it.
Like she has a mind anymore...
George vowed revenge for his sister, who was now sitting up in an insane asylum, mumbling about the dead thing to herself and rocking back and forth.
But what of George?
Did he see the imposter?
Damn right!
Did he meet him?
Hell yeah!
Yes, indeedy, he did. And just when he was passing the livingroom to go get a "glass of water". But hey, we all know what he was really doing. Kid hears noise on Christmas Eve...Kid thinks it's Santa...Kid goes to investigate...And what does Kid find? One hell of a surprise.
He could remember that night well. George frozen in the hallway, eyes as wide as saucers as they stared at the figure creeping out of the fireplace. The horrific laugh that still rang in his ears.
The Dead Thing...
The Dead Thing was nothing more than a jack-in-the-box. Well...a jack-in-the-box that when the handle was turned enough times...a long-fingered, rotted hand would pop out.
Had it been enough to creep out George? Oh yes, of course.
Had it been enough to creep out his sister? Hell yeah.
George sat, eyes locked on the fireplace.
I dare you...come on, you Bone-headed wimp!
Soon enough, that fireplace came his life. And the revenge was never fulfilled. Though when George was finally taken to the asylum...He was raving about Dead Things and Tall Skeletons that rolled around on broken wheels...