I looked at the window, but I didn’t see anything but darkness. Every now and then we passed a lonely house, and the light shone softly among the fir trees, only to disappear just as quickly. I discretely turned my head to look at the young woman again. She was sitting very still and very quiet, as if she was a porcelain doll, but she was still crying. Big tears ran down her cheeks and down her neck. She swallowed, and the muscles moved under her skin. That was the only visible movement. I scratched my head to have a plausible excuse for why I had my head turned in such a way that I looked right at her – just in case she’d look up and catching spying on her. What could be the reason for her crying? A break-up? Loss of a family member? Or had she perhaps recently lost her job? She was still reasonably young. She should be out with friends or hurrying home to a young man, she shouldn’t be travelling all alone, crying. I turned away again. It really wasn’t my problem, she had made that. "This is so sick." She thought as she started to scratch Paul's hairy body all over.Knowing how silly she'd look going into her own room, she ran into Paul's room and flopped on the bed in tears. Curled up in a fetal position, she wrapped Paul's arms around its body and shivered in depressed terror. At the same time, their parents were at the party being held in the old town barn. The band on stage was playing classic 1950s and 1960s rock along with a little 1970s disco thrown in. "Just great." Mr. Philips said to his wife as they busted a move as the king and queen of hearts from Alice in Wonderland. That was when the band's loudspeaker began cracking and a weird cackling filled the barn. A skeleton zoomed through the darkness with a smoking tail coming out of it's upper torso. As it circled around Mr. And Mrs. Philips the two felt dizzy. They really felt off after they saw the ghost explode in a series of fireworks. As they stared at one another, they had realized they had switched.
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