A Not So Scary Story to Tell in the Dark
A short ‘horror’ story for bedtime
The day I died I was wearing the perfect socks. Long black boot socks with a pink heart on the sides that read in the cutest cursive ‘dead.’
I had bought them the year prior, the very last time I walked into a Spirit Halloween store. That same day I met Jerry. Jerry became an icon in my circle before I knew it. Just last week I thought I saw him again hanging by a door in Baltimore.
Dying became less scary since we met. You would have thought it strange to see him dancing despite his condition, an eerie smile always on his face. That’s why the second I knew I was going to die I started to dance, too. Others thought I had lost it — a moment of mania triggered by intense panic. I just thought I might as well begin eternity with the right foot, you know? I didn’t dance enough while I was alive.
Being dead is not what they tell you, it’s so boring. So, last week I decided to go for a stroll. I missed the city life, its chaos, the overpriced coffee in the shop that also sells flowers, the old graffiti covered by the new ones in infinite layers, that kid who smokes by the corner store reading old books, the sunlight coming through the tall buildings. That’s when I saw Jerry. Nobody saw me, I think. But I did catch a glimpse of my reflection which left me feeling uneasy even when I stopped by the club.
When I went to bed that night I had the weirdest thought: before me, I’d never seen a skeleton wearing socks!
About the author
Sara Gómez Trillos is a writer and health consultant working at the intersection of behavioral health and non-communicable disease prevention and control, focusing on health innovation and equity. Her writing reveals a deep fascination for philosophy, art, science, and interconnections in health.
Originally from Medellín, Colombia, she writes in both English and Spanish.
Follow Sara’s work on Medium and other platforms.
