“Can I see you in the kitchen?” Sheila was chilled to the bone at those words. They always had that effect on her. She knew exactly why too. Those were the final words her Aunt Karen had said to her Uncle Henry on that fateful Thanksgiving afternoon so many years earlier.
* * *
“Can I see you in the kitchen?” Sheila watched Uncle Henry get up from the sofa where he was watching the game with the rest of the family and headed towards the kitchen.
“Can I see you in the kitchen?” Her aunt’s words were spoken softly , but there was a slightly tense undertone to her voice that made Sheila continue watching as her uncle followed Aunt Karen through the kitchen door.
All eyes reverted to the television, the Jets ahead by 10 in the 2nd quarter. A few loud noises from the kitchen caused a few heads to turn. Man, that must be some turkey! Then silence.
Sheila heard dishes clanging as Aunt Karen started setting the table. A short time later, her aunt called out, “Dinner’s ready!” and everyone slowly filed through the kitchen to the dining room.
“Can I see you in the kitchen?” Sheila never forgot those words—or the sight of Uncle Henry’s backside and legs dangling from Aunt Karen’s Martha Washington gourmet oven—or the pool of blood spreading
Nor would Sheila ever forget Aunt Karen’s huge grin as she called cheerily from the dining room, “Guess who forgot the sweet potatoes?!”
Author’s Note: Obviously, this story gives you a pretty good glimpse into one of the darker recesses of my imagination;)