Thirteen

Mr Brand was elderly and poorly, and during his last days,there was nothing his wife and the doctors could do for him,except make him as comfortable as possible until he passed away. One night, Mrs Brand saw headlights speeding up the driveway to their home.

'Oh no,'she thought,'I don't want visitors now,not now.'

But it wasn't a car bringing a visitor. It was an old hearse with maybe a half dozen little men hanging from the sides. At least,that's what it looked like. The hearse screeched to a stop. The men jumped off and stared up at her, their eyes glowing with a soft yellow light, like cats' eyes. She watched with horror as they disappeared into a side door of her house. An instant later they were back outside, lifting something into the hearse. Then they drove off at high speed,wheels squealing,the gravel in the driveway flying in all directions. At that very moment, the nurse came in,put her hand on Mrs Brand's shoulder, and told her that her husband had died.