Terror Trap

Chapter Four. Late Night Chat

Coming home from school, I waved at my mom,who was unpacking boxes of stuff in the living room. "Hey mom! Can I have a few friends over for Halloween?" My mom laughed, surprised at my enthusiastic attitude. "Well then. New York isn't so bad, now is it?" She laughed. I rubbed my neck and laughed lightly, nervous to say yes. "Yes. You can. It's good for you to have some friends, especially since we just got pulled up from our last house." I rubbed my neck,mumbling a agreement. "So... You going trick or treating this year?" She asked, thankfully changing the subject. "Yea... Last year before I'm too old, so I don't see anything wrong with it." My mom laughed, nudging my shoulder. "Yea. It isn't easy passing you off as little anymore, kiddo." Laughing, I thanked her, then walked up to my room, flopping into my bed.

Later that evening.

"Psst. Quin!" A voice hissed at me, waking me up later that night. "You up?" Groaning, I sat up, rubbing my eyes. "Ok.. I'm up. I'm up." I grumbled, removing my hands to see Jack floating above my bed, staring at me with glowing blue eyes...

Wait... I thought he had green eyes... Curious...

"Jack!" I yelped, then slapped a hand over my mouth. Jack grinned, leaning forward to "lay" on his stomach. "Hey, man. I couldn't sleep, so I wanted to check in with you. How's getting your friends coming along?" I just stared at him, hand over my mouth like a moron. "Heh. Yea. I guessed that you would have gotten somebody in." Removing my hand slowly, I opened my mouth, then closed it, still not trusting that I would squeak like a mouse in a trap. "I was eavesdropping. Sorry." Jack grinned, and I could see that he still retained that "baby fat" around his cheeks when he smiled.

Why would somebody kill this poor kid... He's kinda like me... Sad...

"So... What brings you from the land of the ghosts?" I finally spoke, trying to laugh off the shock of seeing a dead kid in my room for a second time. "Well... I wanted to get something straight. You might have heard some rumors about my dear old dad killing me." I nodded, leaning back against my headboard to listen.

"My dad wasn't even home when I got... When I disappeared. He was out working the graveyard shift, late night patrols, that good stuff. What really got me was Jackbox." I snickered. I couldn't help myself. Getting a glare from my ghostly story teller, I shut up real quickly. "You may laugh, but you won't be when you see him. I mad that mistake when I heard his name, and now look at me. I'm warning you now, Quinton... Don't underestimate the power of fear. It can really do bad things to people."

Lovely. Now I have that wonderful sentiment to worry about...
Jack yawned, then sat up. "I better get back. This little talk wiped me out." Jack turned to float away, but I stopped him. "Wait a second... Your eyes." Jack turned around, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What about them?" "Last time I saw you, they were bright green. Now they're blue. Whats up with that?" Jack's eyes widened, then he shook his head. "Trust me. I don't know, and I don't think you want to know either." With that, Jack popped out of existence, laving me with the musty smell of a unopened crypt.

Why can't ghosts just pop in to say hi or be friendly? Why do they have to just bring doom and gloom?

Jesus, This sucks!