I was enjoying my home away from home in the mountains near Lake Tahoe one evening. Sitting, watching the fire as I often do, the feeling came to me that I was not alone. My peripheral vision whispered to my brain that there was something in the reclining chair to my left. Subtly turning my eyes in that direction, but leaving my head motionless bolstered the notion. However, I would need to turn and face it for confirmation. The thought frightened me, since I should have been the only one there. Slowly my head pivoted and I saw an old man with pale gray skin twisting his head in my direction. His bulging eyes, already tilted toward me, contrasted from the sunken cheeks and temples. The look of death was evident. Even more horrifying though, was the fear on his face.

     I screamed and sprang to my feet. As I did, the old corpse also leapt from the recliner, mouth agape and, matching my movements, scrambled back away from the fire toward the kitchen.

     In my haste I tripped over the magazine basket, landing on hands and knees. To my astonishment, the corpse fell next to me and its lips pulled back away from yellow teeth in absolute terror as we both righted ourselves.

     Glancing forward I was surprised again to see someone else in my house. My niece, standing in the kitchen, pivoted to face me. For a split second my fear stepped aside as I wondered why she was there and exactly when her hair had turned gray. My wonder then gave way to confusion as she focused on me – not the corpse – and screamed as loud as a steam whistle. She was frightened by me and paid no attention to the gangling dead by my side!

     I stopped in my tracks and turned to the corpse, but it was no longer there. My niece’s scream continued, but took a hollow tone as she and the kitchen seemed to drift away. Why was she here in my house uninvited? In this special place I helped build and would one day move into when I was old. Then I remembered that I had come here to live after retiring and over the years spent many evenings in front of the fire as age took its gradual toll. And then… And then, joints creaking, I walked back to the fire and settled into my recliner as I had done so many times. The warmth of the flames and comforting sound of the crackling wood clouded over whatever I had been thinking about before.

- J. Sparry