A quick note from Scott Donnelly. The following story was written by fellow India
author and friend Steve Kine in twenty twenty for an earlier version of micro Terrors,
but was ultimately confirmed by Steve for a November twenty twenty three release.
On February twentieth of this year, seven days later, Steve's life as well
as his sons were tragically and senselessly taken from this world. Steve was a
wonderful soul, a very talented writer, and I'm honored to have him leave
his fingerprints on micro Terrors. Please enjoy Steve's story Wishbone. Welcome to micro
Terrors, scary stories for kids where it's always the spooky season, full of
chills, thrills and spine tingling spooks. Micro Terrors are family friendly frites for
those ages eight and up, and while our stories are for younger years,
we are still talking about things that go bump in the night, and some
children may not be able to handle what others can. Parental consent is recommended
now. Forts of Knights micro Terror Wishbone by Steve Kane. Everything smelled delicious.
There was roasted turkey, corn bread, stuffing, sweet potatoes with marshmallows
and raisins on top, grain beans with bits of ham cooked in homemade buttermilk,
biscuits, and craberry sauce. The cranberry sauce was the kind that had
real berries, not that jellied stuff. The house was a wash with the
aroma of Thanksgiving. Toby's stomach was rumbling as he set the table plates,
glasses, napkins, knives forks, trivets for hot plates, salt and pepper
and butter, plus hot sauce for Uncle Lou. Toby's older brother, Wayne
and their dad were in the living room watching football, of course, and
could not be bothered to help out in the kitchen or dining room. The
Browns were playing some team in navy blue jerseys with a sea on their helmets.
He guess the Browns were losing, since all he heard from the living
room were groans, expletives, and the occasional belch or other bodily air expulsions.
Toby didn't care for public displays of air, and he didn't care for
sports in general. He knew he'd be expected to be outside later that afternoon
for the annual family game of football. It was cloudy, and he was
hoping for rain. Praying for rain. It was always a free for all
out on the lawn. Gina and Harley, his cousins, would always tackle
him, even though it was touch football. Sometimes just for fun, his
own brother would tackle him and everyone would laugh, including his father and his
uncle Lou. Please rain, Toby prayed to the gods of Thanksgiving. In
return, there was a low rumble of thunder. Yes, Toby thought.
The doorbell rang, and Toby's heart pounded heavy in his chest. They're here,
he groaned. His mother asked him to go answer the door. Toby
looked at her pleadingly, but she just gave him the go ahead signal with
her oven mittened hand. Head down, Toby walked down the hall, past
the living room to the front door. He peeked out the door window and
at first he thought they were being invaded by aliens. Turns out it was
just Uncle Lou, aunt Selene and his horrible cousins, Harley and Gina.
He chuckled to himself when he thought of his secret nickname for Harley, Curly
as in I'm gonna hurl. He didn't have a nickname for his other cousin,
Gina was bad enough sounding by itself. He opened the door cautiously,
but he was forced open by Harley, who plowed his way in, followed
by Gina, who was a foot taller and hairer than her little brother.
They both towered over Toby, who felt like the shrimp they called him.
Uncle Low strutted in with the nauseating odors of aquavelva and slim gems. He
tussled Toby's hair, muttered a hey, kiddo, and joined his dad Wayne
and the cousin's cruel around the tube. Aunt Selene was a little better,
but she was evil by osmosis. She bent down, gave Toby a hug
and said Happy Thanksgiving, and waltzed into the kitchen. Toby stood at the
door for a moment, looking at the dark clouds. Please rain. Behind
the clouds, he could see the sun trying to peek out. He closed
and locked the door, turned and trudged back down the hall. After pouring
milk for himself and the other kids, the family gathered into the dining room
for dinner. Toby's mother and aunt had a glass of wine each, and
his father and uncle Lou had cans of beer. The football game in the
living room was forgotten. The Browns had no chance. Toby's dad had carved
the turkey and it was heaped on a plate. To the side, on
a smaller dish was the turkey's wishbone. The bone looked like an upside down
V with a little notch on the end. Toby was excited. This year
was his and Wayne's turn to do the wishbone. Last year was his cousin's
turn. They alternated each year. Toby's mother motioned to Toby and Wayne and
they stood up and went to the head of the table. Wayne picked up
the wishbone off the plate and held one end out to Toby. He grasped
it with his left hand. Ah, boys make a wish, Toby's father
said. The boys looked at each other and Wayne grinned. He was bigger,
he was stronger. Of course, he was going to get the bigger
piece of the wishbone he always did. Are you ready, Wayne asked his
brother. Toby looked around the room at all the faces of his family.
They were all staring at him. Harley had stuck a piece of turkey and
was chomping on it. Not yet, I haven't wished hear me up.
Gina snarled, I'm hungry. Yeah, me too, chimed Harley, you're
I'm ready to play football? You ready? Tackling dummy. Toby looked around
again. He was nervous. Wayne was smiling and his teeth looked like fangs.
Everyone at the table looked like monsters. Wayne, Toby's dad, Toby's
mom, Harley, Gina, Aunt Selene, uncle Lou. They all looked
like hideous monster aliens. Football chanted Gina and everyone joined in. Ball No,
Toby cried, I hate football. I hate it. He tried to
pull on the wishbone, but Wayne held on. First ball, I hate
it ball. The voices grew louder, No, shouted Toby. Wayne was
snarling and his teeth stretched out of his mouth, down past his chin.
Ball shut up. The family had taken up knives and forks that were banging
them on the table in time with their chanting, which grew steadily louder.
Ball, First ball, Ball, I hate football, Toby yelled. If
you all love football so much, you should all be football's I wish you
were football. Toby yanked on the wishbone. Wayne yanked back. They pulled
and pulled and the wishbone snapped. Wayne fell backwards onto the dining room table.
Turkey, gravy and stuffing went flying through the air. Toby's mother screamed,
Then everything went silent. Toby looked down at his greasy hand. He
had the largest piece of the wishbone. He smiled and looked around at the
now messy dining room. None of his family members were there. Where were
they? He looked again. In his father's chair sat a brown oval piece
of leather with white laces on top. It was a football. Toby went
around the table. In each chair was a football where one of his family
members had sat. On the floor. Next to the refrigerator was another football
where Wayne had fallen. His entire family were footballs. Toby looked again at
the wishbone in his hand. It had worked. Toby didn't know whether he
should be happy or horrified. He decided on happy. He grabbed a piece
of turkey from the plates and put it in his mouth. It was delicious.
He took a bite of stuffing from the serving spoon. It was delicious.
He ate a bite of cranberry sauce with real berries. It was delicious.
Everything was wonderful When he had tried a bit of everything and was full.
Toby belched loudly. He rounded up all the footballs into a black garbage
bag and went out into the backyard. It had begun to lightly snow,
no rain. He took a ball out of the bag. He didn't know
who was who, but he pretended this one was Wayne. He held the
ball in front of him, dropped it, and raised his leg to punt
the ball. He missed and the ball hit the ground. He picked it
up again and tried it again. This time his foot hit the ball and
the ball rose ten feet in the air and landed a few feet away.
It felt good. He took another ball out of the bag, Gina.
He held it out in front of him, dropped it, and punted.
The ball sailed about twenty feet into the air and about fifteen feet away.
Not bad. Toby smiled and took another ball out of the bag curly.
He punted again. This one soared over the house into the front yard.
Toby raised his hands in the air like he was signaling a touchdown score.
He screamed at the top of his lungs. He knew that wasn't right,
but it was his football game, His rules. One by one, Toby
removed the balls from the bag and punted them, naming them as they flew.
Finally the bag was empty. He held the last ball in his small
hands. Mom. He held the ball out in front of him, but
he didn't drop it. Mom. He looked down at the brown leather.
He ran his fingers over the white lacings. Mom. He pulled the ball
back in and held it against his chest, hugging it tightly. A tear
rolled down his cheek. Mom, what had he done? Back inside the
house, Toby looked around the dining room at the massacre that had been dinner.
He looked at the empty chairs. He looked at the mess of gravy
on the table and the floor. He was no longer hungry. His part
of the wishbone sat on the edge of the table where he had left it.
Wayne's piece was on the floor. He picked up both pieces and held
them in his right hand, his left hand holding the mom football. Toby
was crying. He was tired. Toby put both pieces of the wishbone in
his back pocket and climbed the stairs, holding onto the handrail as he went.
His room was warm and inviting. He climbed into bed and closed his
eyes. The football was tucked under his arm. Toby, a voice called
out. It was his mother's voice. He jerked away and the football he'd
been holding fell to the floor. What he thought, what's going on?
He heard his mother's voice again, Toby, can you come down please?
I need you to set the table. Toby rubbed his eyes and looked at
the football on his bedroom floor. It had a red bow wrapped around it.
There was a little card that Toby hadn't noticed. He picked it up
and read it. Toby, I got you a new football. I know
you don't like to play, but it will be fun this year. I'll
make sure Gina and Harley go easy on you. Signed Wayne. Toby's mouth
was a gape. Wayne had never really been nice to him. He picked
up the football and looked at it. It was brand new and shiny.
It felt smooth. It was smaller than their other football, and it felt
just right for his small hands. He held it close to him and smiled.
Coming mom Toby yelled as he started out of his room and ran down
the steps. He could smell all the Thanksgiving food, and his stomach growled.
On the way to the kitchen, Toby passed the living room and looked
in. His dad and Wayne were watching the game Chicago. Toby said out
loud, the Bears. Wayne looked up and saw Toby holding the football.
He gave him a wink. You know it, Wayne asked, I love
it. Toby replied, thank you. Wayne nodded and gave him a thumbs
up. Toby went into the dining room to set the table. His aunt,
uncle, and cousins would be there soon. Thank you for listening to
micro Terrors. Join us each Saturday for another scary story. For more fun,
visit our website at microterrors dot com, where we will also have spooky
games you can print out and play like Wicked word searches, mysterious mazes,
and more. Microterrors dot com is also where you can find us on your
favorite social media and even send in your own scary story for us to tell.
Plus, you'll learn more about our author, Scott Donnelly, who has
other horrors for both young and old. I hope you'll join me again soon
for micro Terrors scary stories for kids