Bag of Bones

by Stephen King

“Okay, here comes the chatterbox.” There was a rustling as the phone changed hands, then Ki was there. “I taggled you at the Fair, Mike! I taggled my own quartermack!” “Did you?” I asked. “That was quite a dream, wasn’t it, Ki?” There was a long silence at the other end. I could imagine Mattie wondering what had happened to her telephone chatterbox. At last Ki said in a hesitating voice: “You there too.” Tiu. “We saw the snake-dance ladies . . . the pole with the bell on top . . . we went in the spookyhouse . . . you fell down in the barrel! It wasn’t a dream . . . was it?” I could have convinced her that it was, but all at once that seemed like a bad idea, one that was dangerous in its own way. I said: “You had on a pretty hat and a pretty dress.” “Yeah!” Ki sounded enormously relieved. “And you had on—” “Kyra, stop. Listen to me.” She stopped at once. “It’s better if you don’t talk about that dream too much, I think. To your mom or to anyone except me.” “Except you.” “Yes. And the same with the refrigerator people. Okay?” “Okay. Mike, there was a lady in Mattie’s clothes.”