The Slab

I carefully crept down the stair and poked my head through the banisters, waiting for someone to speak my name. It had been quiet, too quiet for most of the morning, so curiosity got the best of me. The stairs deafened me as they creaked and groaned like they hadn’t been used in years, despite the fact that it was just one night. When I finally touched the cold, wooden floor, I knew something was wrong.
Neither Mother or Father turned to look at me, they just sat still, frozen, like statues. I creeped my way towards Mother’s chair, and tried to feel her warm embrace once again. But all I felt was a cold, dry hand upon my head. Fearfully, I looked up and saw that her entire body was bone-dry and lifeless, like she’d been embalmed or even mummified, only flaking skin and yellowed bone remained. I looked over and saw Father had the same fate, laying to waste in his chair, that green mask he always used to scare me propped up against it.
They both had their clothes and glasses on, the coffee Mother held in her hand was still warm to the touch. It was like it came in a sudden whirlwind of death and locusts. 
Suddenly, a worrying realization came to my mind. “How will I fend for myself here?” I looked around and ran into the empty, obviously neglected kitchen, seeing a quarter bag of food that wouldn’t even last a week. It was dismal outside, it was the beginning of the cold season, when we'd normally stock up. Why did that... cursed thing leave me here to rot away? Is this a sick game he's playing with me? Why didn’t he take me, too?
Why did we have to bring that unholy slab into this house?
Category:Shortpasta
Category:Courage the Cowardly Dog
Category:Deaths
Category:Curse
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Category:Sutinnit's Shed