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T H I R T E E N

Few days later, Charles Johnson stood in front of a wooden house, on a porch with a few small stairs that brought him upon a door with dusty pink shade, a little knocking ring in the center, instead of a bell or buzzer.

His eyes wandered around the exterior of the house, distracting himself how hesitant he was just to knock on the door. Deep breath taken, and he lifted his hand to reach the door as soon as it was expectedly opened from the inside.

"You're here," Isadora greeted.

"I haven't had a chance to thank you," Charles remarked immediately, "I was too busy to take care of Jimmy, and Madame Trevils' funeral— wait, why did you miss it?"

Isadora shrugged with a heavy sigh, it was clear for Charlie that she was still mourning about how crazy the days they had been through.

"I didn't know you like pink," he started to joke to lessen the tension between them.

"I don't. My mother does."

"Oh—sorry, well— see you at school tomorrow?"

"Mhm,"

"Alri—" before Charlie managed to say goodbye, she already closed the door.

He hardly understood that one complicated friend, but he smiled over things that were getting better now. He left the house, walked towards his home that made him pass Madame Trevils' abandoned house, and also the cemetery.

He felt no eerie blanketing the air anymore, knowing the curse had ended and he could continue living peacefully now with Jimmy. The children at the cemetery made him feel even more relaxed, he smiled watching them playing, and rushed a bit to reach home sooner.

The children saw Charles staring at them and walking away after passing them. They refused to pay more attention to the distraction, then continued to play leap frog by jumping over each other. Three of them enjoyed it so much. Laughter inserted into the atmosphere, they were sweating for every action of leap they were making, feeling not enough with only three players in this hopping game while an even number was needed.

They thought they would need more players, as they expected from a figure of a child, and an old lady from a distance staring at them during their game. One of the boys shouted, inviting the silent child that had been holding his mother's wrinkled hand, which brought him an eerie feeling that was not a good idea as a sudden cold pierced his nape and gave him goosebumps in every step the boy took to get closer to them. The other boys felt the same way, the song chanted dreadfully led them into chaotic butterflies inside their lungs.

Don't ever laugh as a hearse goes by

For you may be the next to die
They wrap you up in bloody sheets
To drop you 6 feet underneath

They put you in a pinewood box
And cover you up with dirt and rocks
It all goes well for about a week
And then your coffin begins to leak

And the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out
The worms play pinochle on your snout
They eat your eyes, they eat your nose
As you begin to decompose

A slimy beetle with demon's eyes
Chews through your stomach and out your sides
Your stomach turns to rancid grease
And puss pours out like melted cheese

You spread it on a slice of bread
And that's what you'll eat when you're dead

And the worms crawl out, the worms crawl in
The ones that crawl in are lean and thin
The ones that crawl out are fat and stout
Your eyes fall in and your hair falls out

Your brain turns into maggot pie
Your liver starts to liquify
And for the living, all is well
As you sink further into hell

And the flames rise up to drag you down
Into the fire where you will drown
Your skin melts off as you descend
And Satan tears you limb from limb
Your suffering will never end

And the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out
They'll eat your guts and then shit them out
And when your bones begin to rot
The worms remain, but you do not

So don't ever laugh as a hearse goes by
For someday, you'll be the one to die
And when Death brings his cold despair
Ask yourself, "Will anyone care?"

* * * The End * * *