Skeleton screams and magical dreams.

I am spending my life waiting to do something bold. Speak louder, my inner voice screams. Jump. Run. Split. Scream. Go.

One time I heard it whisper, skeletons hide in the closet. So, I went in there and sat in the blackness waiting to uncover the truth. The light shone in through the crack beneath the door. My skin itched and tingled from the imaginary silverfish that skittered over my milky skin. I imagined them making the most beautiful music as their tiny little legs strummed each string of a harp in a rhythmic wave. They seemed less creepy this way. My eyes made shapes in the darkness. I was frightened and sat there forever, ignoring the indigo button on my watch, unwilling to interrupt the stillness associated with the darkness. But, I never found the skeletons.

Now and again, I go back to that closet, shut the door, and stair into the blackness. I wait for the skeletons to rattle and clomp with their stone-like bones, but they are always quiet. I wonder when they will start to scream. And when they do, will they scream the truth?