Bodies in the closet

It was a normal day, the sun peeking out from time to time through the clouds. the trees moved with the wind, and children played under the window."Winter is coming..." my mother muttered as she moved the window a little.

"And after it will come summer" my father said serving me lunch, he smiled briefly and turned to hug my mother. "Mom... can I go play with friends later?" I asked smiling and she smiled back at me "Yes, after dinner" she said in a motherly voice" Thank", I replied in full fa and continued to eat when I finished, I went down to my friends.

And there was Nir. As usual, standing on the side, staring. Nir, the kid we love to hate.

He was short, too thin, almost sickly, and his eyes... black. Like coffee forgotten on the stove for two weeks. And the dark circles around them looked like he woke up every night at 3 AM to talk to the devil about his social life.

"What are you staring at, worm?" Roi yelled at him—with the kind of confidence only a person who’s never finished a book, but has definitely ruined some souls, can have.

Nir didn’t answer. He just kept staring. But his eyes—they spoke. And they didn’t speak kindly.

So we did what we do best—we swarmed him like a pack of wolves trying to feel important for a second. We kicked, punched, laughed...

And he?

He laughed with us.

But it wasn’t the laugh of a child. It was the laugh of someone who’d already seen the end. And decided he’d rather embrace it. Then, when his blood was dripping from his nose and he sat there broken on the sidewalk, he lifted his head, looked at us—and in a cold, terrifying voice, said:

"I’m going into the closet. Want to join me? Forever?"

And then he ran.

Just ran. Home.

Like a character from a bad horror movie... only reality is much better at being awful. Abner, of course, laughed. "We’re not sure if we’ll join you in the closet!"

And there it was—the joke with an expiration date. Because Abner was the first to die.

He was found the next day, in the closet. Bent. Like winter clothes that were forgotten. Only he wasn’t clothes. And his face... his face looked like it met something that made his brain just evaporate.

At first, we thought, "Well, maybe it’s just some random killer with a hammer for closets."

But that didn’t hold water. Or blood.

Because not many killers leave locked bodies from the inside.

The closest case happened 580 km away, a decade ago, and even there, there was no laughter in the background. Only silence.

A lot of silence.

And then came Tal’s turn.

The coroner said his body looked like it had been tortured for days. But they didn’t know he called me the night before. He sounded anxious.

"Why do I hear breathing in my closet?" he asked. I told him it was probably a cat. But our cat was dead. In that very closet.

The next body was of Ido.

And I found it.

Yes, me.

What fun, right? Just another experience for future therapy.

He was hanging by his legs, wrapped in barbed wire. Like someone tried to make him a modern art piece... but confused art with industrial slaughter.

After that, only I and Asaf remained.

Asaf disappeared.

And me?

I began to slip away from reality slowly. My parents noticed. So they locked me in my room. They nailed the windows. Screwed the door shut.

"Maybe this way he’ll be fine," they whispered.

But I don’t feel fine at all.

Not since I started hearing laughter.

At night. From my closet.

Creaky laughter, warped... like a doll with a concussion.

I feel breathing on the back of my neck.

Cold. Damp. Almost teasing.

And sometimes—I hear a voice.

Whispering. Wet.

"Join me... I’ve saved you a spot..."

I’m not sure anymore if I want to stay outside that closet.

Maybe... it’s quieter there.