One cold, mysterious night . . . Well, it wasn’t cold since this is south Florida so let’s just say it was a might below warm. Well, it was warmish. Sorta sticky. Anyway, at the very least, it was mysterious!
So, where were we? Ah, yes.
One lonely evening, my MacBook Pro started acting strange. Insert an audio file of a horrific scream here.
(Editor: No).
Fearing a crashed program, I saved what I was working on and continued typing. I believe it was a badly written horror post for our blog, so no big loss, believe me!
(Editor: . . . )
Anyhoo, so I typed a few more brilliant sentences without issue, as always. Perhaps it had been a momentary drop in the internet connection. I opened Safari and went to apple.com and the bright colorful page loaded, immediately making me feel more safe until I realized that a web page wouldn’t protect me on this frigid (work with me here!), sinister night.
The MacBook was still acting weird and I couldn’t pin down the cause. Was my hard drive warning me that the end was nigh? Quickly, I opened Disk Utility and ran Verify Disk.
(Editor: If I had a nickel for every time I’ve read that sentence in a horror novel.)
Nothing wrong with the disk!
(Editor: Phew! The suspense was killing me.)
I ran through several more tests to no avail and with a heavy heart, I restarted the machine. I would have tried that earlier but it was the only source of light protecting me from the all-enveloping gloom of my musty library. I do have a library, but it's more dusty than musty, which I guess makes it musty. I really should dust more often. And, yes, the room is quite dark. When we were painting, we decided to also do the ceiling. It’s dark red. They call it Cottage Red. The dark color would make it spooky if it were ever truly cold in here, and my laptop were the only actual source of light. This one time . . .
(Editor: Can we get on with it?)
Okay! Anyway. Having exhausted all the usual–and unusual–suspects, I was faced with little choice but to open the computer and blow out the evil . . . dust. Actually, this was not necessary or recommended but I did it anyway simply because I can. I got mad skillz like that. Don’t be hatin’.
So, I opened it and, lifting up the keyboard, I jumped out of my seat in horror when I saw . . .
(Editor: Remind me to ask later why your ‘scary’ library looks suspiciously like our office workbench.)
What? Oh, I see. You're using distraction to soften this otherwise terrifying moment. It’s a good thought but leave the story structuring to an expert. Nothing to say? Excellent! Back to my saga.
Imagine, dear readers, how I felt at that moment, starving, frozen, shivering uncontrollably in that dungeon-like repository of ancient tomes, knowing that right there, under my fingertips, such monstrosities had lurked!
(Editor: I apologize, dear reader. I didn’t realize we had a budding Shakespeare in our midst.)
Having regained my courage (I wasn’t THAT scared to begin with), I righted my chair and carefully approached the terrifying, gaping maw of my formerly beloved computer. Squinting, I sat down thinking that perhaps it wasn’t as bad as it had seemed at first I really need more light in this room! Closer, closer when the candles suddenly flared brighter!
(Editor: Candles? Really?)
But to no avail! Horror! (You have to imagine that last word shouted out loud.)
There they were! The bone-chilling visages of ghosts, their fringed, skirt-like, torsos, appearing as the grim smiles of DEATH!
(Editor: Death wears a skirt?)
Hmph! I did say ‘skirt-like.’
And, worse, terrifyingly, looking directly at me, the one on the left, his cold, dark eyes, devoid of mercy, unwavering, staring deep into my soul, poised, tense, as if on a whim, he might swoop, from within the machine, without warning, to without, me, being unaware . . .
(Editor: Was there a clearance sale on commas this week?)
How am I supposed to keep this scary with you interrupting all the time?
(Editor: . . . )
Anyway, having squirreled the goosebumps up my arms and out the back of my neck, I studied the terrible scene in front of me. Hah, fooled you! It’s obvious that these are simply cutouts in the black membrane protecting the keyboard to allow the two fans to breath. And the eyes are actually covers for screw-heads.
(Editor: What about the skirts, I mean the teeth?)
The teeth? Well, I can’t explain those . . . WHY DO THEY HAVE TEETH?
(Editor: Apologies again, dear reader. The writer ended the story here. I think it’s supposed to be one of those unresolved endings or something. If he is hoping for a sequel he has another thought coming.)