Just as you go to push the door closed, the pants jerk about, clearly not having liked being locked up, and cause the container to fall backward with the door agape.
“Oh crap.” You say backing up to Michelle, neither of you sure as to what to expect.
With nothing keeping them in place, Michelle and I watched the pants sit up, and swing a leg out of the cell. As it made its way out, it caught its patched knee on the broken latch, tearing its pant leg. The pants got upright again, the hips bent over slightly as if looking displeased at its torn limb it wiggled about. They tried to walk but the fabric simply folded inward without having anything to brace upon. Frustrated, they turned in our direction.
“Are they… looking at us?” Michelle muttered after a moment.
“Uh, your guess is as good as mine.” I responded.
The pants began to hop toward Michelle and I, who stood looking unsure about the situation.
“Should we just grab them and put them back in the container? I mean they’re just pants, ripped ones, what can they do?” Michelle asked.
“They’re still possessed by a ghost, we don’t know what they can do. I think we should just get Winston or Egon, they aren't going anywhere like that.”
“Oh come on Travis, and say what? Sorry we’ve been on the team ten minutes and we let a ghost out, no way, we can handle this.” Michelle proclaimed as she started toward the hobbling pants.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.12 seconds at 6:29am on Nov 26, 2024 via server WEBX1.