Chapter One:
Elizabeth was sitting in her chair and reading her new novel she had just got from the public library. Her husband sat in the chair next to hers and was watching the news. Her husband was John Frank. He was never the happiest person to be around. John would complained all the time, was always grumpy, a slob, and has never said the words, 'I love you.' "John, could you please lower the volume on the television set? I can barely hear myself think," asked Elizabeth. "With all your yapping, I can barely live without slapping you across your damn face. You can go outside and read, vitamin D will do you good because you lack it," John snapped back. Elizabeth sighed and stood up and hauled herself to the backyard. She watered her flowers and took a seat on the bench. She continued to read until the sun fell. John was still inside watching mindless television. "John, I'm going to the store, do you need anything?" Elizabeth asked politely. John glared at her and grouched, "No. Get out of here, be on your way." Elizabeth grabbed the keys from the rack and stepped inside her car. She drove and came upon a dark house with smoke coming from behind. "Must be a BBQ," she said to herself. Elizabeth continued on and found herself at the store. She got what she needed and headed back. As she was driving, a flaming tree came burning down on the rear of her car. The car flipped over and several burning trees fell. The sound that filled the night was the shriek from her cry. John looked out the window and saw the car blow up. He ran over and noticed Elizabeth's cremated body. He pulled her out and carried the burning lady back to his own house. In the basement, was a coffin already made for her. He set her in and smiled, "In the nick of time, too." He left the basement and locked it. He threw the key into the fire to melt. That night, he slept in satisfaction. Nobody ever knew about Elizabeth's corpse; they all assume she burned with the fire.
Weeks later, John was reading an article of the burning house he lit on fire. He was still getting away with being a terroist. He shut the light off without guilt and lied in the center of the bed. Just as he closed his eyes, a sound came from underground. It was a loud thump that was pounding against something thin. It stopped every 5 seconds and then begin to pump. It increased speed as John kept denying the sound. It got loud enough that the house shuttered. A chill ran up his spine and he put on his slippers to check the scene. He grabbed his flashlight and headed down there. The coffin was pounding, desperate to break open, and inside, something was glowing. A bright pink with blood red veins. John popped it open and there, in the dark, a heart was pounding against the ashy skin of Elizabeth Frank. John backed away at the lifeless body. He shut it closed and ran back up stairs. He tried fixing the lock that he broke to check the body. The sound grew louder and louder. John packed his clothes and drove straight to a hotel.
A week later, John came back in the evening. He looked in the fridge to just find some moldy pasta. He got on the phone to order some pizza. Half an hour later the pizza arrived. John enjoyed every bite and was ready for bed. It was 8:30 and John was watching television again. Hours later, he fell asleep. He heard a tap on the window right next to his bed. He woke up and looked outside. Suddenly, a bony hand, barely covered with skin, slammed on the window. In the distance was Elizabeth's half skin, half bone, face screaming the same shriek as the night she died. John fell out of his bed and hid in the corner. He didn't sleep that night.
