The Empty GraveBook - 2017
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Something flashed past me like a vengeful chicken
Few non-spectral situations are as fearsome as being cornered by a deranged senior on stilts, with his ten steak-knife fingers clawing in your direction.
“She may look good to you, but whatever she’s been doing to look so young, it isn’t yoga, I can tell you that.”
I opened the fridge to get some milk. As I closed the door, the face in the jar gave a sudden theatrical start that almost made me drop the bottle. The rubbery eyes looked wildly in all directions; the nostrils flared, the mouth contorted in alarm. “Ooh, I smell something burning….Wait, wait, it’s your pants! Your pants are on fire, you massive liar!"
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