Eagle in the Closet

'There's no eagle in the damned closet!'

'Yes, there is!' demanded five-year-old Mikey, wide eyed and trembling. "I heard him moving around back there, just like she said."

"She's trying to scare you into doing what she says. There's no eagle. Mikey. It's all in your imagination."

"What's imagination?"

George thumped Mikeys head with his fingers. "In your brain, in your mind, scary things you think that aren't true like believing eagles live in closets. Geez."

"You weren't there< George. I heard him." Mikey insisted. "There is an eagle in the closet. I'm going to tell grandma you called her a liar."

"Go ahead and I'll beat you up and throw you back there with the eagle," George said.

Mikey ran off screaming "Grandma! Grandma."

Boy, that dumb kid will believe anything, George thought. He glanced over at the wooden door to the big closet. Eagle in the closet, ha ha, he laughed. He leaned over a bit and knocked on the door. "Hello Eagle! Hello." He started to walk away, but he heard something fall inside the closet.

Now I wonder what Mikey got into in there, George said to himself as he reached over to open the door and check it out.

"Don't go in there, don't go in there George!" Mikey ran up to him, pulling him back from the door.

"You scared the crap out of me, Mikey," George said, slapping Mikey on the shoulder. "I thought you went crying to Grandma, little snot nose."

"I am not a snot nose and Grandma is out in the garden. Too hot out there and she'll want me to help her pick peas. Besides, she told me to stay away from the closet. The eagle might get me."

"For gawd's sake, Mikey, there is no eagle in the closet. Come on, I'll show you." He grabbed Mikey and started pulling him toward the door.

"No! No!" Mikey screamed. He managed to pull himself out of George's grip and fell to the floor, crawling away as fast as his short, stubby legs would take him. "I'm not going into that closet. Are you crazy?"

"No, you are," George said. "Watch."

He suddenly pulled open the closet door. All was dark inside. It was a big closet with all manner of things stored inside, old boxes, small tools, you name it. There were many shelves built into the sides of the walls and the walk space between them was narrow. It was stifling hot in there too, George remembered from the last time he went into the closet. He looked up, checking for the light bulb. Sure enough, he saw the string and
pulled it. A faint, weak light shown over his head but only about a foot or two in front of
him. Cheap lightbulb, he thought, cheap like everything else around here.

He ran his fingers over some of the shelves closest to him. Thick dust coated his fingers.

If there's an eagle in here, he's a messy bastard, but I don't see any claw marks.

Bang! The door behind him suddenly closed.

"Mikey!" Open that door." Mikey didn't answer.

"Little chicken little probably ran to Grandma," he thought and grinned to himself. Still, the closed door was a little unnerving. Maybe he ought to go back out and leave the door open. He turned to go out, and then he heard a noise again. 'What is that?' he questioned himself. He stood stock still, trying to get a fix on the noise. It wasn't a knock or a walk. It was hard to figure out. Sounded sort of like a rustling sound. "Must be the wind coming from the basement, probably lots of cracks in the walls, old place like this." He tried to concentrate to locate the sound. There! He heard it again. It seemed to be closer than before.

Suddenly, George felt like he was going to pee on himself. It sounded like.. no, that's stupid yet... it sounded like the rustling of feathers. "Get a grip on yourself, George," he told himself. "Feathers? Ha ha." He pushed ahead a little further, trying to see into the darkness. The slight rustling sound continued but didn't advance on him. "Just the wind," he said to himself and he crept a little further into the closet.

"What's that," he asked himself. In the back of the closet, on the right side, was a little glimmer of light. One of those cracks, he thought. He couldn't quite make out what was back
there, maybe some old toys or something, something stacked pretty tall on one of the
shelves he guessed. "That would be neat," he thought. "Must be something the old lady doesn't want us to get into."

He inched on a small step at a time, listening for the rustling, watching the light.

He noticed his footsteps got quieter and looked down to see what he was walking in or on.

So hard to see, he thought and he bent over and felt around his feet. Yuck, he cringed.

Some kind of droppings, maybe rats. Yikes! he thought. What else? He felt... feathery things. Feathers!!

"O Lord, there's an eagle in the closet," he screamed and began to scramble backwards. As he did so, a shape shifted in the light, just a little, and he heard the rustling. George got up and ran, ran to the door which miraculously opened. He fell out the door screaming, right into Grandma's arms and Mikey was screaming too.

Grandma picked George up and held on tight as he screamed and yelled. "Come along, Mikey," she said and took his hand too. I told you boys to stay out of there.

"There's an eagle in that closet."