Spooky Wingman

“…and that’s why we are all born… screaming.” Scott leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin.

”Whoa, that’s pretty spooky,” I said.

Outside the window, the old forest made its scary wind noises. We sat in silence for a little bit, enjoying our mulled wine. I also enjoyed the terrors swirling in my mind, howling at the endless darkness, reeling in powerless rage, hating humans. I imagined we mattered in the grand scheme of things.

”So,” I said, “A scary old asylum, or something like that.”

Scott nodded. “That would be perfect."

"We bring some sleeping bags, some cheese and wine, the girls."

"Of course, the girls."

"And we find rooms to snuggle up in."

"Right,” he said.

”But I’m going to need you to set the tone first. You know, with your scary stories."

"Will do, my friend. Will do,” he said, and we clinked our glasses.

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk