Grandpa’s Head

“There’s a head inside that.” Grandma pointed to the box on the highest bookshelf.

I mentioned this at dinner, expecting laughter. Everyone just nodded.

“Your great-grandfather found it a century ago, completely mummified.”

“That slash across its mouth, ugh!”

“And the naked lady tattoo.” The adults snickered. The kids looked fascinated.

“Can we see it?”

“When you’re eighteen.”

My cousin turned eighteen. He climbed up, then descended looking disgusted, commenting on the deformed ears.

Then it was my turn. I climbed up and raised the lid.

It was empty.

“Well?” my younger sister asked.

“Horrible.” I shuddered. “Those eyes, especially.”