Eli’s Pants
Character – the chosen one- Setting – haunted house
- Object – mood pants
- Situation – unplanned amputation
Eli’s pants were a subtle shade of green that was almost blue. That meant he was calm. So far, so good.
The brooding, dark shell of the once-splendid mansion came into view at the end of the winding, tree-lined lane and Eli’s heartbeat quickened. His pants shaded over the line into turquoise. Very sensitive.
Standing in the light of the full moon, breathing deeply and keeping one hand on his VW for reassurance, Eli considered whether he was doing the right thing. Claire would still respect him if he didn’t go in. But would he respect himself?
As he took slow, deliberate steps toward the stone porch, a high-pitched keening sound erupted from somewhere deep inside the house. The mood pants began darkening toward indigo. After that was violet.
Nobody knew what came after violet. No one had ever gone that far and made it back to tell the tale.
But Eli would. He knew it.
Boldly he climbed the stairs and strode through the gaping front door. The place smelled like urine and citronella. Not a pleasing combination. The door creaked closed with a bang, and Eli’s pants were definitely purple. He shone his flashlight up and down them, checking for color uniformity.
As he moved deeper into the sprawling abode, Eli’s fear grew.
A large puddle of blood covered the floor outside the billiard room, wet and glistening. His flashlight beam skittered over the surface until he saw a hand. A severed hand, still twitching.
And then Eli knew. Beyond violet, the pants turned clear.