Experience  Writing Halloween Prompt: HUSK

I woke up one morning, or maybe it was evening, and found, to my horror, that nobody was home.

My front door had been twisted off its hinges and thrown to the floor; the windows were broken, and dust filtered through moonlight ( or maybe it was sunlight ) aimlessly from room to room.

In the darkness I cried out, knowing full well no one could hear me:

“Where are the walls that kept me safe from the rain, mold, and rats? Where are the soft and fragile bones that I had kept safe for all of these years? They couldn’t have climbed up and out of our home all on their own. I was crafted by Matteo Carver, the finest coffin maker in the world; his work was designed to last for an eternity.”

“So what happened?”

“Where are the bones dressed in black and held together with wire and wax that I was entrusted with? Did somebody steal them away? Or did they get up all on their own and walk away and leave me here on my own?”

I didn’t think that was possible.

Regardless of what I may think, it appears that is exactly what happened.

I feel empty; I am hollow. I am a husk. I have no purpose.

So if by chance you need a place to rest your tired and weary bones, come and find me, and let’s see what we can do.

I was created by the finest coffin maker in the world, and his work guarantees you an eternal rest.

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A.M. Moscoso