Bunk beds are cool. If you hang a blanket down from the top, you can make the bottom bunk into a dragon's lair.
I slept on the top bunk, but I could look down to talk to my ten-year older brother if I needed to. It was great sharing a room with him ... even if he shaved. He called me his "little buddy." He had posters on our wall: The Dallas Cowboys, a black-lit tiger, and tractors with girls sitting on them. I never understood why girls would be driving tractors dressed like that.
The metal closet door would never shut right. Whatever was inside would peek out. One time it was a white shirtsleeve. Other times, I just did not know.
One night, I heard something, and half asleep, I looked down under my bunk to ask my older brother what it was. "It is nothing little buddy. Go back to sleep. Everything will be alright in the morning."
That is what I did. As I rolled over, I remembered my brother and I had traded bunks for the night. He wasn't below me. Who just spoke to me? I whispered up to my brother. He moaned a "yes" I think.
I heard a scratching sound.
It is hard to go back to sleep when your heart is in your throat. But, I finally did.
After breakfast, I asked my brother about it but he had no memory of moaning yes. I crawled under my bed to look for clues. Nothing on the floor. It smelled like mothballs. When I rolled onto my back, there it was, scratched on the board that held my mattress.
Little buddy. See you soon.
I always went to bed first after that, so I could sleep on the top bunk.
I also told my brother to never call me his little buddy ever again.
YOU ARE READING
That Night at Grandpa's (And Other Scary Stories)
Short StoryEach of the stories you are about to read are more than fifty percent true. Some parts you won't believe. Some stories are completely true. Feel free to ask my kids which of these stories are true. They might tell you. They might not. They have firs...
