Never Set a Place for the Dead at Christmas Dinner

Warning. Never set a place for the dead at Christmas dinner. My grandmother insisted

on it every year. Empty plates for those we lost. Harmless tradition, we thought.

Last Christmas, we set the table like always. Six empty chairs. Six full plates.

We sat down to eat. That's when we heard it. Scraping. From beneath the

table. My sister looked under. She screamed. Pale hands.

Dozens of them. Clawing up through the floorboards. They weren't our relatives.

They were something else. Something that's been waiting. Watching families

honor the dead. Hungry for an invitation. We ran. Left everything. The house stands