The Bottom Drawer shortscarystories

I have twins, six years old. They are fascinating to me, both as a unit – which they definitely are – and as individuals. I am proud to have watched them grow.

Sometimes, I creep down the hallway, and lean against the bathroom door at the end. This way, I can see into both of their rooms simultaneously. I love to watch their stories unfold as they play pretend. Often, I can watch for a long time without them noticing, as they are so absorbed in their innocent fantasies.

Now, as I take the last step towards the door at the end of the hallway, a floorboard creaks under my weight. I catch a glimpse of my daughter, fiddling with the bottom drawer of her dresser just before she heard the treacherous floorboard. She spins around, her chestnut hair catching the yellow light of late afternoon streaming in through her window, and slams the drawer shut.

I love my little girl, but she is a terrible sneak. If I hear the patter of quick little feet as I lay in bed during the wee hours of the morning, I’m sure to catch her waist-deep in the refrigerator, hunting fruit or the jelly jar. She has been known to steal trinkets she’s found in the prohibited corners of the house – daddy’s desk, the silverware drawer – and horde them in her dresser’s bottom drawer.

When I saw her slam that drawer shut, naturally, I thought she much have snuck some forbidden object and decided to hide it there.

“Jill!” I said.

She flinched.

“What have you got?”

“Nothing!” she says. It comes out “nuh-sing,” as she recently lost both of her front teeth.

“Jill?” I insist, advancing on her. “Come on, now. You won’t be in as much trouble if you just tell the truth.”

“I am!” She insists. “Last chance, baby. Tell me the truth.”

“Nothing, Mama!” she says, “I promise! I didn’t have nothing!" nuh-sing

I lay my hand on the drawer’s handle and pull.

“See?” she says. There are couple of marbles, a bit of paper, and some crayons. Nothing that she shouldn’t have. nuh-sing

“I’m sorry, baby.”

A little later, I try again. This time, I manage to avoid the creaking floorboard.

Jill is kneeling in front of her dresser, her brother standing by her side. “Back up some, Zane” she says. “It only comes out for me. You gotta make it think that you’re not here.”

“What is it?” brother asks.

“You’ll see. Just back up some.”

My little boy takes a few deliberate steps away from the dresser. “Okay,” he whispers, “Show me.”

Jill slowly pulls the drawer open as Zane leans in.

“There!” Jill says, “See it?”

Zane trembles, as the blood drains from his cherubic face. Then, he screams.

Submitted August 01, 2017 at 06:12AM by lazykill http://ift.tt/2hi4P9N shortscarystories