Skeleton

Eloise gently lay the steaming cup of matcha on the ledge of the bathtub. The lights were dimmed, shrouded with lavender-scented steam. Humming alongside her Jazz playlist, Eloise poured a generous squirt of bubble-bath into the water. 

Abruptly, the doorknob rattled, jolting Eloise’s attention to the bathroom door. 

“What?!” Eloise screamed. The pounding on the door intensified.

“Mom!” a voice came from behind the door. “Mom, help me!” 

Eloise launched up from the bathtub, nearly slipping on the smooth marble floors as she haphazardly yanked her bathrobe off. She slammed the door open, her heart nearly bursting out of its chest.

Her son, Mickey, stared up at her, eyes rimmed with pink and lips quivering. Eloise wrapped her arms around him as he promptly burst into tears. 

“I was going out to get the mail, and I- I saw something.”

Goosebumps prickled up on Eloise’s skin. She tightened her grip on Mickey, alarmed at how he felt in her arms: so small, and so, so cold. “What did you see?” she asked, bracing herself.

“A skeleton.”

Eloise let out a slow exhale, color rushing back to her face. She bit her lip. trying to suppress a giggle. It was November 3rd, only a few days after Halloween. Some lazy neighbor must have wanted to prolong the spooky season. “Mickey, it may have just been a fake prop.”

Mickey’s brows furrowed as he vehemently insisted what he saw was real. “I’m not stupid, I can tell what’s real and what’s fake. And it was not fake!”

Eloise sighed, longingly peering behind her to the askew bathroom door. The playlist had switched to a Stevie Wonder song and she could still feel the warmth of the scalding water pressing on her shoulders. She sighed, and turned to Mickey. 

“Fine. Let me get changed, and then show me.”

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Eloise yanked her woolen hat over her ears, teeth slightly chattering. Mickey trailed behind her, using both hands to grasp her arm. As they neared the mailbox, all Eloise could see was a barren patch of grass; no different than what was there yesterday and the day before.

Mickey’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He circled the mailbox thrice, crouching down to examine every inch of land around it. Eloise groaned, quickly tapping her foot and looking at Mickey expectedly. 

“I swear Mom! It was here, I saw it!”

“Mickey, you need more sleep. You were awake until 11pm last night. Maybe if you played less of those violent video games, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Mickey took both of his mom’s hands. His ragged breaths formed puffs of frozen clouds in the air. “Please Mom. Please believe me.” he pleaded.

“In the house. Now. It’s past your bedtime.”

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The alarm clock started to howl. Eloise rolled over, slamming it off. 7:00 AM. She slumped out of bed, eyelids heavy with sleep and meandered her way to Mickey’s room.

“Rise and shine, kiddo. Time for school,” she yelled, pounding on the door. 

Eloise went about the daily morning chores: toasting the bread for breakfast, cutting fruit for Mickey’s lunch, and finally getting the mail. 

For the latter, Eloise grabbed a thick winter coat and set out. She opened the mailbox, ignoring all the tax forms and grabbing the real treasure: the thick coupon book. As she turned away, she felt her foot catch on something hard.

An ivory bulge peeked out from the ground. Eloise dug her shoe into the dirt, trying to pull the mysterious object above the surface. After a couple seconds of struggle, Eloise finally dropped to the ground, and used her fingernails to lodge out the item. 

It was a bone. Not the fake plastic type, but the one that is hard and weathered and has a rather yellowish-tint. Eloise clapped her hand to her mouth. She felt the pit in her stomach engulfing her: her heart, lungs, and eyes. She blinked furiously and sprinted towards the house.

She toppled up the stairs, climbing up three at a time. She slammed Mickey’s door open, and shoved her head inside. “Mickey, baby, you were right!” Eloise cried.

Mickey didn’t stir. His sheets were pulled above his head.

“Mickey?” 

Eloise slowly walked to the foot of Mickey’s bed. The sheets were oddly crumpled up, more lumpy than usual. There was a small dirt stain at the corner of the bed. With trembling hands, Eloise yanked the covers off.

Her face crumbled.

On the mattress lay a skeleton, short and slim, like that of a 10-year-old boy. 

by SRIJA GHOSH & VIDULA MANNEM