Family Secret

Gable discovered the loose brick in the back wall of his house. As he prodded at the edges with his fingers, he remembered how his mother told him not to fiddle with loose bricks. Like so many children, he didn’t listen to his mother.

He found a metal ruler and pried at the brick. It wiggled forward, millimeter by millimeter, wobble by wobble. Gable always possessed his father’s curiosity, but, then again, his father had disappeared three years earlier.

The police looked for him, sent out APBs and search teams. Gable’s mother cried when the police were there. Once they left she cursed her husband. Gable remembered his mother yelling, “His damned curiosity got him killed.”

The brick hung far enough out that Gable could grip it with the tips of his fingers. He pinched the rough red surface, and tugged. The block scraped a little farther out with each yank. With one last tug, the brick popped out and sent Gable tumbling into a pile of old paint cans. They tumbled like a car crash.

The brick landed next to his head. Black sludge covered one side of it, and it stank like rotting leaves.

A hole gaped in the wall. Gable hauled himself up. At the front of the house, a door whined open and slapped shut.

Gable peered in the hole. In the gloom, his father's decomposing face stared back at him. Gable froze.

Then he felt hands on his shoulders. Gable couldn't move. He just stared a the face in the darkness. Behind him, he felt his mother squat down. He felt her arms snake around his neck.

“Gable, honey,” his mother said.

She squeezed and his spine popped. His body went limp.

“What did I tell you about loose bricks?”

(end)