Death Is My BFF

The midnight news droned on, a familiar lullaby you usually welcomed. But tonight, sleep wouldn't come. Restless, you tossed in bed, the glowing screen of the television reflecting in your tired eyes. The weatherman's exaggerated gestures against the green screen were almost enough to finally pull you into slumber when a sudden, loud bang from outside jolted you awake.

Your heart hammered against your ribs. It sounded like the garbage can, again. Annoyed, you debated ignoring it, letting the raccoons have their fun. But your father's instructions echoed in your mind. Groaning, you swung your legs out of bed, the cold floor a shock to your bare feet.

The bathroom light flickered on, revealing your reflection. You caught a glimpse of something in the mirror behind you and gasped, a scream catching in your throat. A Ghost Face costume hung on the wall where your beach picture should be. Your dad's prank.

Frustrated, you ripped it down, determined to get him back. As you crept down the hallway towards your parents' room, intent on leaving a rubber spider, the creak of the front door opening stopped you cold. Tiny kitten bells jingled softly.

Panic seized you. Was it the raccoon? An intruder? Retreating to your room, you grabbed your phone and a softball bat, your only weapons. The house was silent, the front door closed and locked when you cautiously checked. Just as you started to think you'd imagined it, another crash sounded from outside, followed by the automatic porch light clicking on, signaling a presence on the front steps.