Skeletons

Kaitlin

It felt as if she were slowly being filled with ice water. It started in her fingertips, and tingled at the tips of her toes, expanding upwards through her limbs. It numbed her body from the inside out, each joint becoming agony to move, but she had to move. Something compelled her to move, told her it was time.

Of their own accord, her legs propelled her from the bed, her bare-feet cold on the hardwood floor in the hallway. She wandered down to her brother's room, the coldness seeping into her head, filling her up until even her hair stood on end.

Her eyes glazed over, a hazy white light falling like a veil over her vision. It was impossible to see past the light but thankfully her feet knew where to take her. Her hand reached up, pushing the door open and entered her brother's room.

"Jacob," her little voice whispered. Her voice wobbled at first, as if the coldness was unsure how to use her vocal chords.

Kaitlin felt her panic pressing against her ribcage; trapped, contained inside with no escape. It pulsated, straining for freedom.

"Jacob," she called again. Her voice stronger, but still a whisper in the room.

"Jacob, it's time."

Jacob sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Kaitlin," he said. "Why are you out of bed?"

Jacob rolled over to face his sister, his eyes widening. "Kailtin?" his voice was terrified. His sister's normally pale skin was tinged blue, her lips a dark, plum purple. The ice blue glow of her eyes made goose bumps on Jacob's arms.

Her hair floated about her head as if she were submerged underwater. She was staring at his closet.

"Kaitlin," Jacob squeaked. He reached towards her, and Kailins's focus snapped back to focus on her brother.

"Open the closet Jacob," Kaitlin's mouth moved but her voice was garbled like she had been speaking from beneath the water.

"Don't worry Kaitlin, I'll get mommy." Jacob stepped out of bed and around his sister. But Kaitlin's little hand shot out and wrapped tightly around his wrist.

"No," her voice more forceful. "Open the closet." Her skin was so cold, it felt as if it were burning against Jacob's skin. She tightened her hold slightly, and Jacob winced.

"The closet Jacob." Jacob nodded, staring at his sister in fear. Her body began to tremble, her temperature reaching a dangerous low. Jacob took his sister's hand, wincing against the cold and sat her in his bed. "Jacob," she mumbled again.

"Hush, Kaitlin," he cooed, propping a pillow behind her. "I'm opening the closet, but tucking you in first." He pulled the covers up over his sister's legs and rubbed her arms.

"Jacob." Jacob turned to look at the closet. The white door that normally blended in with the white walls seemed darker somehow. Jacob made his way towards it, his hand closing over the doorknob. He looked back once at his sister, her trembling easing slightly as he turned the knob. The door swung open, the smell of dank, autumn moisture filling his nostrils, and something moved inside the shadows.

"Thank you Jacob," a voice said from within the closet. Jacob stumbled backward. A skeleton, six feet tall stepped out from the closet, it's bones cracking and rattling as if moved forward.

"I need your help Jacob," the skeleton whispered.

Kaitlin had settled back into the pillows her hair falling down to cascade against her cheeks. Her eyes were closed, her skin had a healthy pinkish glow, and her chest rose and fell evenly as if she had never been awake.

"She's alright, Jacob," the skeleton said. It stood with its hands hanging at its sides in front of the window. It turned its head to stare out onto the street.

"You collect stories, Jacob?"

Jacob nodded, glancing at his small collection on the dresser. The skeleton turned its attention back to the little boy.

"How do you pick your stories, Jacob?" It asked him. Jacob swallowed hard and tried to speak. When nothing came out the skeleton asked him again. "Jacob?"

"They feel nice," he said. He rubbed his fingers together, his gaze fixated on the floor.

"Keep collecting them, Jacob. I need them–but I want you to collect the sad ones, the bad stories, Jacob."

"But I don't like them, they hurt me." The little boy looked up at the skeleton. "I don't want to."

"You must," the skeleton said simply. "The wrongs must be righted, Jacob." Jacob started to shake his head, bit the skeleton pointed at his sister and her she sat bolt upright in bed, the little girl whimpering as her skin paled, and her eyes glowed – the blonde tendrils of her hair beginning to float up into the air.

"Stop!" Jacob yelled, "Kaitlin!"

"Keep collecting the stories Jacob, the bad ones—or your sister will become a bad story." The skeleton waited a few more moments before he turned his eyeless skull towards Jacob once more. "Will you collect them?" Jacob nodded, swiping at his tears. The skeleton lowered his hand and Kaitlin resumed her restful pose.

"She will wake you when it is time to open the door. Collect them, Jacob, the ones that make you feel sick inside."

The skeleton turned away from the boy and re-entered the closet, closing the door behind him with a soft snick. Shivering, Jacob turned to his dresser and swept all the good stories into his top drawer. A few tears escaping down his face and disappearing into his collar. He climbed back into bed, curling protectively around his sleeping sister and squeezed his eyes shut against the darkness.