An Uncle John’s Eerily Twisted Tale!
JILL HACKLE HAUNTED antique shops every weekend looking for an old desk—and not just any old desk, her mother’s desk. When her mom died, the state had auctioned off all their stuff: the books, the furniture, the gnarled skeleton’s hand, the skull with the candle sticking out of it, and the fake Crown Jewels of Queen Victoria. They’d even sold her pet rat, Scratcher. At least, that’s what Matron told her when Scratcher went missing.
“No pets allowed in the orphanage, anyway, girlie,” Matron had sneered.
Jill missed her mother almost more than she could bear. It seemed so unfair that someone who’d spent her whole life studying death couldn’t find a way to stay out of its clutches.
“The dead are all around us,” Jill’s mom had told her. “You can see them if you want to. Most people just don’t want to.”
But some people did. That’s where Jill’s mom came in. She conducted seances, turning herself into a bridge between the living and their lost loved ones. If the dead didn’t show up, Jill knew just what to do: knock three times.
Her mom’s desk was the key. It had two drawers on the left side and two drawers on the right. But the drawers on the right side were fake. Behind them was a hollow space just big enough for Jill to sit inside. Before a seance, Jill would push the hidden latch that swung the fake drawers open like a door, then slip inside. If her mom rapped three times during the seance but no spirit answered, Jill would rap three times from inside her nook.
Just before the cancer took her, Jill’s mom had promised to watch over her, even beyond death.
“But how will I know?” Jill had asked.
“I’ll use our special knock.”
“Three times?” Jill said.
“Three times,” her mother had whispered. And then she’d closed her eyes and gone to sleep…forever.
That’s why Jill had to find that desk. And she did, but not in an antique shop. One night, as she tossed and turned on her bony mattress, she heard a knock. Thump. Then she heard a second knock. Thump. And a third. Thump! Jill sat straight up in the bed. The knock seemed to be coming from the other side of the wall. Matron’s room! Jill crept into the hall. Knock. Knock. Knock. She pressed her ear against Matron’s door. KNOCK KNOCK. KNOCK.
She turned the doorknob, as slowly and silently as she could. Then she peered inside. The room was bathed in the warm yellow glow of a single lamp that sat atop…her mother’s desk! What was it doing here? Jill glanced over her shoulder. Matron was nowhere in sight, so she crept into the room. Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Mom?” Jill eased closer to the desk. “Is that you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” said a muffled voice. “Now get me out of here!”
Jill recognized that voice. And it wasn’t her mother’s. “How did you get my mother’s desk?”
“I bought it,” said the matron. “Now get me out!”
Jill blinked. “But… why? You knew I’d been looking everywhere for it.”
“It’s not rocket science. You wouldn’t be looking so hard unless there was something valuable hidden in here. And I’m going to find it.”
Jill shook her head. “No, you’re not.” She pushed the hidden latch, and the fake drawers swung open.
Matron crawled out. “Finally. Now if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut about this.”
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
Matron’s eyes widened. “What was that?”
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
“I-it’s the desk!” Matron shrieked. “Get that thing out of here. Get it out right now!”
“Whatever you say,” said Jill. Back in her room, Jill opened the fake drawers again. She shone the flashlight inside. Two red eyes peered out at her. “So that’s where you’ve been hiding.” Jill reached in to pull Scratcher into her arms. Then she crawled back into bed. “’Night, Scratcher.” She snuggled into her pillow and rubbed her cheek against the rat’s soft fur. Knock. Knock. Knock. Jill reached out and patted the desk. “’Night, Mom.”
THE END