Skeleton In Your Closet Novels & Stories

In some places, things were stacked so high one couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of them. I walked inside, being careful not to knock anything over with my purse. “Bob!” I called out the owner’s name. I heard a muffled reply. “Back here.” I followed the sound of his voice. He was kneeling on the floor, unpacking a box of what looked like skeleton keys. “Those are awesome!” I exclaimed. He softly chuckled. “These are trendy right now,” he commented. “The rustier, the better. I’ll sell these in no time.”

A huge mirror and drawers and drawers of skin care. Back to the room, I opened up the closet and I thought I could not be surprised further, there was large walk in closet filled to the brim with clothes, different designers,boots, sneakers, heels, sweaters, dresses, shirts.. most disturbing thing was everything was my size, it felt like the entire room was for…. Me.

I mumble, “Now what?” By chance, I reach into the depths of my dress pockets and feel something long, skinny, and cold poke my hand. Carefully, I pull it out and discover a rusted silver skeleton key. “Oh, I remember now,” I whisper. Into the tiny slot, the skeleton key fits perfectly. In one twist of my wrist, the knob opens, and with every bit that I can. I open the door with just enough space to slide through and slip in unnoticed. There is one tiny window from the opposite side of the room, showing just enough light to lead the way.

With his voice lowered, he said, "If you have something to say, say it directly. Beating around the bush isn't your style." Daniel replied, "What I mean is, Kristen is already dead. So, whose bone marrow are you planning to use to save your sweetheart this time?"

The Shadowline By Friday, the town had already twisted Sophie into something else. Something easier to forget. Her name wasn't mentioned out loud, not in the halls, not in the diner, not even during the long, sagging sermons on Sunday. There was no funeral. There never was. Black Salt didn’t bury what it couldn’t explain. But the Bone House held her.

Elina There are a lot of clothes in the closet to choose from and eventually I pick a pistachio green sundress with a tight bodice. The skirt falls softly from my waist down to an inch above my knees. I can’t find any underwear in the closet so I stick my head out the door to the bedroom. “Lazarus? Do I have any underwear?” Lazarus turns around to look at me with the biggest smile I have ever seen. “What? What's wrong?” I suspiciously narrow my eyes at him.

“That isn’t important now. We can deal with that later.” “No. I’m tired of going from one psycho to the next. We have to secure our position here, and we can’t do that with your girlfriend on the throne. And what is this?” I held out the gem the Queen had given me. It immediately glowed bright orange. “No, no, what are you doing with that?” He sounded appalled. “Are you trying to get us all killed?” “Aren’t you already dead?” I asked him. “Of course not. Do I look dead?” said the skeleton, waving his arms about like mobility proved life. Which I suppose it did.

So far these were the only females he’d noticed with this anomaly. As he moved farther away from the entrance, beyond the reach of the other lantern and candles, he relied solely on his torch and a lamp that barely flickered. His steps now resembled a crab-like sideways shuffle as he felt there was less danger of treading on something he’d rather not. On his next slide along the floor, his foot connected with something. Something that moved and clattered. He directed the torch’s unsteady beam downward. Dozens of skeletons, sitting or lying slouched against each other. They were all naked, refused one last dignity. Some were missing limbs, others were charred in places. Alex recoiled as a cou

Nazia and Ria kept the skeleton, Mr Luck, safely in Nazia's cupboard. They covered him with Nazia's clothes. Nazia kept an open book on top of the skull. They made sure to lock the door properly before leaving for their afternoon meal. They walked outside their campus to a small but clean restaurant nearby.

I said "Why?" He asked, indignant. "I didn't know, but I have been getting a bad feeling about that silo ever since." Rushing to my wardrobe, I pulled open the wooden doors. Termite dust fell from cracks in the wood and I could feel that soon this wardrobe will be reduced to a pile of termite dust. I pulled out my most favorite black monkey jacket and put it on. Next, opened the last drawer of my cabinet, carefully extracting the delicate phial bottle. I peered into one, holding it up to the candle holder, the liquid inside swirl as I swilled it.