We won the auction for the storage unit at 3PM; we had to have it empty by 4PM. Easy, right?

We should have seen the signs right off the bat: none of the other bidders seemed very interested in bidding on the unit. It’s like they knew, and they didn’t want anything to do with it. I thought we had just lucked out and got an amazing haul.

At first, Todd and I thought we did hit the jackpot. We found all sorts of antiques from the ’20s – the 1820s, that is. Everything was in pristine condition. We were going to make a killing. And we only paid a buck for it all!

That’s when we found the chest. We thought we hit the mother load, the haul that would make our year. You never find something bad in an antique chest.

Todd carefully pried it open, and I felt a chill shiver its way down my spine. A terrible smell assaulted my nose, and I retched immediately. But the part that had me running for the hills was the bandaged, rotting hand whose fingers were gripped tightly around Todd’s fat neck.