My Wife Pranked Me With Her Severed Hand

My name was Charlie Collins. I had been married for eight years and had always worked from home as a freelancer.

I rarely went out, mostly relying on online design gigs to bring in an income. My wife, Alayna Watson, was pretty much my only connection to the outside world.

But my life was far from boring. Alayna was a master at surprises.

Right before her latest business trip, she meticulously planned a date night and prepared a gift for me.

I peeked inside the box and rolled my eyes. "More of your pranks? Aren't you a little too old for this?"

She grinned and leaned in to plant a kiss on my cheek. "You're never too old for fun."

I didn't pull away, letting her wrap her arms around me.

One thing led to another, and we tumbled from the living room couch all the way to the bedroom.

After all these years of marriage, the fact that we were still so crazy about each other was largely thanks to her playful streak.

If she ever stopped acting like this, I'd probably think something was wrong.

Just as Alayna pulled off her top, my eyes caught a scratch on her arm. The raw streak of red looked fresh, like a recent fingernail scratch.

I grabbed her arm. "What happened here? Got a guy on the side or something?"

She glanced down, casually traced it, and held me in her arms to soothe me. "It's just a scratch. Instead of worrying about me, you're making wild accusations."

Then she buried her face in my chest, whining playfully.

I laughed and said she was playing dirty, but my hand instinctively wandered back to the scratch.

The moment my fingertips brushed against it, it still felt off. Before I could dwell on it, though, she pinned me to the mattress.

When I opened my eyes again, the sun was already up. A sticky note was plastered to the headboard. "Off on my trip. Don't forget to miss me. I'll be back in a couple of days."

Still groggy, I picked up her clothes scattered by the bed and tossed them into the washing machine.

Just then, something hard pressed into my palm.

It was a button. A men's dress shirt button.

I smiled, not thinking much of it.

Alayna had a habit of pocketing loose buttons from my shirts, claiming she was saving them to sew back on, only to completely forget about them.

This was probably just one of those old strays.

For the next few days, I had the house to myself.

Since I didn't have a regular office job, my routine became incredibly lax and messy.

Within days, the place had devolved into a total disaster zone.

Usually, Alayna handled the bulk of the housework while I just lent a hand here and there, never really worrying about it.

But with her gone, I couldn't just let the mess pile up forever.

With a sigh, I finally started tidying up.

The moment I pushed open the storage room door, a pungent, nauseating odor hit me square in the face. It was far heavier than the typical musty smell of a damp closet on a rainy day.

Frowning, I backed out, grabbed a can of air freshener, and sprayed it aggressively throughout the room.

But when the artificial fragrance masked the stench, it only made the odor weirder.

The two scents mingled together, making me gag.

Holding my breath, I stepped back inside, determined to find the source of the smell.

After only a couple of steps in, my foot suddenly slipped.

I looked down and saw a pool of dark brown liquid oozing from a corner. It was coming from the box Alayna had brought home.

My immediate thought was that some fake blood from one of her prank props had leaked.

Shaking my head at the mess, I reached down and picked it up. But the second I lifted the lid, I froze completely.