Dying, that is.
Lucky for him it had been a spoopy life. Full of giggling invisible children in the halls, disembodied voices calling for their moms. A man who was there and—then. Just. Wasn’t.
But now. On his deathbed. Taking last shallow breaths, he reconsiders. He could’ve been just tired. Mind playing tricks. Pareidolia. He might’ve made a grave mistake.
Perhaps, he was about to end. The universe. Everything stopped. Emptiness without him to comprehend it. He sobs. The void calls. He looks up from his tears to see it:
A gaunt skeletal form now beckons. Eyes blazing fire in empty sockets. One long bony hand summoning him. It clutched a sword. Also afire. And the other pointed at something. The next thing.
Dave jumps out of bed grinning ear to ear in relief.
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