Murder in the Backyard

What is fear?

This is the situation: You are Mrs. Prancy. Newly wed to a handsome man working 50 miles from home. Beautiful. Witty. And really beautiful. You are on your way to bed. You are tired of a whole day's work washing the clothes, the carpets, and the blankets - oh! You just can't sleep yet. Your blanket is still in the backyard. You've got to get it first. As you open the door, you hear a mysterious sound. It alarms you and you pause for a moment to think. You could open the door as wide and as quick as possible like crazy and explode into a petrifying noise to scare off that filthy intruder, or you can slowly open the door and check if the sound was only made by a stupid cat astray. You decide to check it the safe way. You slowly turn the knob, careful not to make even the slightest noise, distancing yourself a little from the door just in case a bloodthirsty axe catches you off-guard and hacks your face into halves. Slowly you peep through the door. No axe. Your eyes scanned the area as fast as the human eyeballs are capable of. Nothing. You gave a sigh of relief, but a sudden gasp cut it out. A ghost! No. Perhaps you're just having an optical illusion. It happens all the time, right? It could be light. It could be something. But what something? You don't know. Cellophane? Plastic bag? What the hell is that? It certainly has a form. It certainly is moving! So what on earth could be white as ghost, moving like a tasty jellyfish waiting for onions and garlic? Aliens? No. Perhaps a murderer on the loose, wearing ghost costume to kill its victims with heart attack - or a bloodthirsty axe. Whatever. Perhaps a lucky madman who found the freaking way out of the asylum. Your mind is flying. You are thinking of axes, rusty foot-long butcher knives; chains around your delicate body while you are chopped inch-by-inch, sliced like meat, roasted alive, eaten by some satanic freaks! There are endless possibilities. Any way, you're dead.

So you stayed up all night. It was not until morning that you felt safe. You survived the night. You checked the backyard, that time, a little confident the evil thing was gone. The first thing you saw was white. It was white like a ghost, moving like a jellyfish. It was your blanket. Go to bed, coward.