Skeleton Man

Another step and I still wait

I’m certain now that the person who calls himself my uncle is an impostor at best, and something much more terrible at worst. I begin to think of my dream, of the similarities between the creature fattening up the girl and my uncle. Skeleton Man. He’s a modern-day Skeleton Man and this house is his cave.

Sunday was always his day for making breakfast and he made a big thing about it. Hed thaw out a whole quart of blueberries from the freezer and warm up some real maple syrup. But no noise came from the kitchen, no pans rattling, no seventies music playing on the kitchen CD playermy dad is a freak for the Eagles and says it is impossible for him to cook without them.

I sat up in bed and held my breath. No rhythmic pounding of my mother running in place in their bedroom down the hall. I looked at the clockeight thirty. By now Mom should have been halfway through her first set of aerobics, but there were no sounds of thudding sneakers. The only thumping I could hear was my own heart.

Maybe theyd been out so late that they were still sleeping. It had to have been late when they came back because Id finally drifted off to sleep after midnight, waiting for them.

I stood up and went out into the hall. Mom? Dad? No answer.

It seemed to take me forever to rea

rabbits all through the park. You hardly

IM NOT SURE how TO begin

off to sleep after

take a book out of my bag and try to read it. The letters of the words all look like strange insects crawling over the page. But time doesn’t crawl by.

After all, I’m the daughter of a Mohawk man who worked the high iron before he went into the banking business and met my mom. My dad and other Mohawks like him built places like the World Trade towers.