The family were all huddled up watching the television in the evening.
It had been a miserable day with rain coming down for most of it. It was nice for all of them to settle down in the warmth of the lounge room for a while. Mum, dad and the two boys were waiting for their favourite fortnightly big game show. There was a sadness about the occasion because the boys’ uncle, only recently deceased, had been an absolute whiz at it. He always came up with the right answers. They all missed him, particularly the oldest boy. They had been especially close. The boy was reflecting on the fact that when he was alive he never missed an episode. It was just a few minutes before the start of the show when the doorbell rang. They weren’t expecting visitors.
The oldest son said, “I’ll get it,” and got up. He went to the front door and opened it. A strange, hardly human figure, dressed in a filthy smock and spattered with mud, stood swaying slightly. The boy gaped at the figure in a state of shock and confusion. Finally, he said, “Uncle?”
The thing worked its jaw a little before it managed to croak, “No. I’m a friend of his, from the same cemetery. He sends his apologies. He couldn’t make it. He’s feeling rather poorly tonight.” Then, with what might have been a smile the creature turned and walked back out into the night.
After a minute or so, the boy, still in a daze, returned to the lounge.
As he entered, his mother said, “Who was that, dear?”