The Tomb

It'd been a long time, but the tomb was once again open.

"What do you make of that?" Johnny asked, pointing at the strange objects lined up against the wall.

"Oh, jeez! I don't know Johnny, what do you think they were used to make?"

"Make?"

"Yeah - they look like tools - maybe that one stirred something."

"Oh, you're right!" Johnny picked up one of the objects. "What do you think this one did?"

Just then there was a scream and a rush of air.

"What was that!?" both boys yelled in unison. A low rumbling began.

"Who dares enter my place of rest?" A deep rumbling growl asked. The boys met eyes.

"I-I'm Tim," Tim stammered.

"J-Johnny," Johnny managed.

"Hello Tim, hello Johnny," the voice answered. The boys looked at each other for another moment, then began to look around.

"Are... are you going to kill us?" Timmy asked.

"Kill you! Ha!" the walls shook with the laugh. "I just wanted to know who you are!"

"Oh," Johnny said. "And who are you?"

"I'm the ghost that haunts this place."

"Are we disturbing you?" Tim chimed in.

"Not in the least. Say, can you tell me who won the 1956 World Series?"

The boys' eyes near about bugged out of their heads.

"No idea, sir." Johnny said.

"Oh, okay."

"Can I ask you something, sir?" asked Tim.

"Shoot, kid."

"What is this used for?"

"Aesthetics, I suppose - it was here when I moved in."

"Oh. Okay." Tim said automatically. "Thanks."