The outside of the old wooden box was soaked in what she hoped was fake blood. It had a pungent smell. Melanie didn’t want to touch it, but her brothers kept pushing otherwise.
“Go on,” the four stooges said in unison. “Open! Open!”
“Please, don’t be a head. Please don’t be a head…” she mumbled to herself as her trembling fingers opened the lid.
It wasn’t. The round cake was marshmallow white with leaf green frosting reminiscent of ectoplasmic residue, the perfect gift for both the Spooky Season and her ill-timed birthday. She genuinely loved it.
And then, the cake levitated…