The Bank of Bones

Comedic Horror / 3000 words

PREFACE: This one is a bit twisted with a good dose of black humor. It all started with that cool title and from there, it unfurled into this crazy little story. Hope you enjoy it.

Gerry Walden was a nervous wreck. It’d been a month since he’d moved into the new house with his wife, and a week since either of them had had a full night’s sleep. He was so tired he didn’t trust himself to drive and had preferred to ride a cab to the bank.

He sat now in the waiting room, staring at the clock on the wall with sweat dripping down his cheeks. Two hours and counting. He didn’t have an appointment but had refused to leave when they’d told him the manager was busy.

“This is urgent,” he had protested. “I will wait as long as it takes, but I must see him today.”

He’d sleep here if he had to—that’d always be better than spending another night in that damned manor!

Walden had thought the deal was too good to be true and had told Ellie as much, but his wife had always dreamed of living in a big house, so he had caved when she had looked at him with puppy dog eyes.

The door swung open, and a woman stepped in.

“Mr. Walden? The manager will see you now. Please follow me.”

Gerry had jumped to his feet before she’d finished her sentence and nearly rushed past her. He paused and blushed when she quirked a brow at him. She turned and he followed.

“You really should have made an appointment,” she said in a chiding tone. “This is messing up everyone’s schedule.” She looked at her watch. “I should be in my car driving home right now.”

“I’m sorry, but it really couldn’t wait.”

“And I’ll have to stay until you’re done because I’m supposed to close the bank today. Which means I won’t have dinner ready in time and my husband is going to yell at me, like he always does when I’m late.”

“I’m sorry,” Gerry muttered again.

“And of course, the manager is upset because he was supposed to leave an hour ago but got delayed by his previous meeting, and now you. And when he’s upset, he gives me more work, and then I finish later every damn day of the week.” She glanced back at him. “I hope you realize how inconveniencing this all is, Mr. Walden!”

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

She grunted as she stopped before a door and opened it, motioning for him to head in.

“And please be quick about it,” she said while he entered the office.

It was a large, sparsely decorated room. An obese man sat behind a mahogany desk, looked up, and motioned to the chair across from him.

“Mr. Walden. Have a seat and tell me what brings you. I trust you are enjoying your new home?”

“That’s just the thing, Mr. Hanson.” Gerry sat down, shaking his head. “It’s not working out. Not working out at all.”

“Oh? What is the problem?”

“It is haunted.”

“Excuse me?”

“The house. It is haunted.”

“Haunted, you say?”

“Yes, haunted!”

“Ridiculous.”

“I’m telling you—”

“Mr. Walden. You are not a child, are you?”

“No, but—”

“You are a grown man, I’m sure. I see you, right here, in front of me. I see an adult, not a child. So surely you must be a grown man, yes?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“And a grown man would know, as any other grown man would, that ghosts are the subject of fairy tales and horror stories. Made up by the minds of imaginative artists—or madmen, I suppose, in some cases, but certainly not something you would encounter in the real world. Surely, you agree?”

Gerry shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Normally, I would. But, Mr. Hanson, we have been in that house you sold us for a month now, and—”

“I did not sell you the house.”

“Well, not you personally, but the bank.”

“You were quite happy to buy it, if I recall.”

“My wife was, yes. Me, not so much.”

“And now you’ve had a change of heart? Is that why you are making all this nonsense up? Hoping you can worm your way out of a contract? Well, I’m afraid that will not work with us, Mr. Walden. This is not how we do business.”

“But the house is haunted!”

“It is not.”

“Then how do you explain all those creaking sounds we hear at night?”

“The wind, I’m sure.”

“The floating sheets roaming about?”

“Fluttering curtains, certainly, blown by that same wind.”

“Blinking eyes in paintings?”

The manager frowned. “Have you been taking drugs, Mr. Walden?”

“No! Of course not! Never in my life. And then, there is the blood...”

“The blood?”

“Yes. Leaking from the walls. Or seeping from the floor.”

“Impossible!”

“I’m telling you—”

“Do you have it on video?”

“What?”

“Did you film any of these hallucinatory experiences?”

“Well, we tried, but—”

“But it doesn’t show on film?”

Gerry frowned. “How did you know?”

The manager made a dismissive gesture. “It’s always like that. In the movies, I mean. They try to film a ghostly manifestation—or take a picture—and nothing appears. Convenient, isn’t it?”

“So you don’t believe me?”

Hanson leaned back in his chair and sighed.

“Mr. Walden, please, try to look at this through my eyes. If you were in my place, what would you think? What would you do? Someone who bought a house from you, all in good faith, comes back with some wild allegation that said house is filled with ghosts.”

“I’m not saying it’s filled—”

“Besides, even assuming what you claimed was true, what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to justify a refund without evidence? And what would I write in the file? That the place is haunted? I would be laughed out of office. Can you understand my position?”

Gerry shrank in his seat.

“But we can’t take it anymore!” he whined. “It’s driving us nuts. We haven’t slept in days. We can’t keep the place...”

The other man shrugged. “Then rent it out. Or sell it. I can help you find a new buyer, if you want, but that’s the most I can do.”

Gerry straightened, a gleam of hope shining in his eyes.

“Truly? How long would it take to find someone?”

Hanson pondered the question for a moment.

“Let’s see... We’ll need to come over and take some pictures, write up an ad, post it on the web, run it in the usual papers... That should take about a month. Then, of course, we have to wait for someone to answer the ad. That could take a few more months. I’d say six to twelve in all.”

“A year?” All the blood drained from Gerry’s face as the director listed the steps they’d have to go through. “We can’t wait that long!”

“Come now, it’s not so bad! It’s a big house. Very comfortable. Good exposure. It’s—”

“Please don’t try selling it to me, we already bought it!”

“Ah, yes. Sorry.”

“I knew the deal was too good to be true. That’s why it was so cheap, wasn’t it? Because it’s haunted!” He pointed an accusing finger at Hanson. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It was a good deal because the previous owner died with no heirs. There was a mortgage on the place, so it became the bank’s property. Simple as that.”

“That still doesn’t explain the low price,” Gerry said suspiciously. “You’re a bank! You could have asked for a lot more.”

“You know why it was a good deal. You took a loan with us to pay for the house. Had you not done that, it would have cost a lot more.”

“Still, you could have—”

“Look, Mr. Walden, we are talking in circles. It is late, and I need to go, as does my secretary. I’m sure your wife is waiting for you. You had better go home now.”

“But we can’t sleep!”

The manager stood and stepped from behind his desk as he responded.

“There are pills you can take for that, Mr. Walden.” He opened the door. “Goodnight.”

Gerry left the bank, head hung low.

***

Ellie Walden ran out of the kitchen shrieking. This place was quite the disappointment. Not only was her dream house full of ghosts, but it had rats, too! Black, hairy, fat, ugly ones. With her luck, they would be ghost rats.

She hurried to her laptop, searched for pest control, and called the first name that popped up on her screen.

When she was done, she hung up and glared at the kitchen door. She wouldn’t let some pesky rodents get the best of her! Once they were gone, she’d find a way to kick the ghosts out as well.

“Are you alright down there?” called out Gerry from upstairs.

“Just a minor problem. I’m handling it, hon.”

“Great.”

He was busy placing mirrors in their room and she didn’t want to bother him with her issues. He’d read somewhere that ghosts were afraid of mirrors and hoped that, by placing them on every wall and ceiling, it would allow them to finally get some sleep. She thought he must have been reading about vampires, but figured it wouldn’t hurt to try anyway.

The doorbell rang, startling her.

“I’ll get it!” she shouted as she headed for the door.

When she opened it, she found a tall man wearing a black uniform. Three others stood behind him, similarly garbed. Two held long cases that reminded her of those used to carry musical instruments.

She blinked. “Well, that was quick! You’ve come to kill the rats?”

The man smiled. “Not exactly. Is your husband home, Mrs. Walden?”

“Oh. You’ve come for Gerry?” She turned her head to shout. “Gerry! There are some men here for you!”

“Coming!”

“Actually, we are here for both of you.”

“Really? Well, come on in, there’s no point standing out there.”

“That is very kind of you, thank you.”

All four stepped in.

“Have a seat, please. Make yourselves at home.”

“No need. We won’t be staying long.”

Gerry came running down the stairs. He looked at the men in surprise.

“Oh. Hello. Who are you?”

The one who had spoken earlier nodded.

“Name’s Olin. I work for the bank. As do my colleagues.”

“From the bank?” Ellie frowned. “What is this about?”

“Five months ago, you took a loan... Is this correct?”

“Yes, of course. We got a good deal for the house, but—”

“Not so good,” Gerry said bitterly.

“—still couldn’t pay the full thing out of pocket. So we had to take a loan.”

Olin nodded. “Of course. That is understandable. What is less so is that you have not paid an installment in three months.”

Ellie gaped. “We haven’t?” She looked at her husband.

“Not only that, but you have not responded to any of our mails.”

Gerry had crossed his arms and was staring at the man defiantly.

“So?”

“Gerry!”

“What? Did you really expect us to pay for this dreadful place? We haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks!”

Before Ellie could respond, Olin lifted a hand.

“Be that as it may,” he said, “the fact remains that you signed a contract. Now, have you read the fine print?”

“The fine print? Nobody reads the fine print!”

The man sighed and shook his head. “Typical.”

His two colleagues with the cases set them on a table and started to unlock them.

“Had you read it, you would have understood the risks you were taking and the consequences of your actions.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Until the loan is fully paid, the house still belongs to the bank, as does anything within.”

Gerry grunted. “You can have it all, for all I care! I just want my money back.”

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works, Mr. Walden.”

“Gerry!”

Ellie grabbed her husband’s arm so tight it made him wince. He glanced at her and saw her face had gone very white. Following her gaze, he saw what the cases contained.

The two men grabbed the machetes as Olin calmly continued.

“Until the loan is fully paid, your lives belong to us as well. Since you have failed to make the required installments, we are forced to terminate our association—in the most final way possible. This will be unpleasant for you. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

The house was located in the middle of the countryside, their closest neighbors miles away.

No one heard the screams.

***

Nekharan Drosh beamed at his screen. Business was booming, and it was all thanks to him! With some luck, he would get a promotion and be transferred to a better office. He was tired of dealing with these frail and stupid humans.

His cell phone buzzed. He looked down and saw a text message from his agent, informing him they had collected the material.

He smiled, put the device away, and stretched contentedly.

This was a good day.

The creature known as Mr. Hanson in the realm of men stood, turned, and walked up to the wall. He tapped on the controls and a panel slid open, revealing a twirling mass of colors. He stepped through and vanished, only to reappear on the other side.

Though ‘other side’ is perhaps not the best term, as the two locations existed within the same space and time. And yet, it was impossible to travel between the two without a trans-dimensional gate. Oh, of course, there were some entities—the most powerful ones—who could traverse planes as they walked, but Nekharan was not one of them.

Servants bowed upon his arrival. That always sent chills up his spine, in a pleasing sort of way. He enjoyed the power he held over lower beings.

“Your timing is impeccable, Master Drosh,” said one of them.

“As always!” cried out another.

“We are about to open,” added a third. “There is a line at the door already.”

“Isn’t there always?” he said dismissively.

The lowly creatures touched their foreheads to the ground in sign of submission as he walked past them.

While his work here was similar to what he did in the realm of men, he enjoyed it much more. Humans were too individualistic and conceited. That the Council of Beasts required following local laws and forbade revealing one’s true nature did nothing to help matters. Working under disguise was unnerving. Here, he could be himself; and clients were, overall, much more subservient. And for those who weren’t... well, there were radical ways to deal with them.

He spent most of the day denying requests for loans. Every once in a while, he would approve one—not because it deserved it, but because he needed to meet his quota. In truth, they all were equally lacking in credentials.

Nekharan was processing his hundredth file when he heard a familiar voice.

“I demand to see your supervisor! This is unacceptable!”

He slid out of his suspended chair and drifted toward the door. He peeked through the opening and smiled.

“Well, well, well. How fascinating.”

Going through, he pushed his employee aside.

“I will take care of this, you worm! Go find yourself an easier prey.” He turned and gave his former client a toothy grin. “Mr. Walden! How nice to see you again.”

Gerry stared at the banker in disbelief. Could this really be the same man?

“Mr. Hanson? Is that you?”

“It is indeed! Though you see me now as I truly am. Am I not magnificent?”

While his face remained identical, it floated on top of a somewhat gelatinous mass of goo from which protruded eight limbs, four of which seemed to serve as arms.

Gerry wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I wouldn’t say—”

“You murdered us!” screamed Ellie as she crawled her way through the crowd and stood next to her husband.

“I did no such thing.”

“Well, not you personally, but the bank.”

Nekharan made a dismissive gesture. “You are the better for it, I assure you. Look at you. Beautiful, ethereal, immortal forms. You should thank us for liberating you from your sickening prisons of flesh.”

Gerry frowned as he pointed an accusing finger at his former banker.

“So you did know about the house!”

“Of course. Though I assure you, everything was done within the frame of the law.”

“I’m pretty sure murder isn’t considered legal,” lashed out Ellie.

Another dismissive gesture. “Your bodies will never be found. So, technically, there is no murder. But once again, I find we are speaking in circles. How about you tell me what brings you to our most honorable establishment today?”

Gerry made a face. “I would go to another, but this is the only bank here, it seems.”

“Quite so, quite so.”

“Well,” he continued, “we were quite disoriented when we arrived—”

“Understandable.”

“—and as we explored, we realized we couldn’t do anything without bones.” He grimaced. “It costs five of the damn things just to use public transportation. We had to walk all the way here—if you can call what we do now walking.”

“Ah! Yes, yes. Bones are a precious commodity here, as no one has them.” A chuckle. “You are in luck, however! We have just received a fresh batch of bones. Your own, in fact. There is still some flesh attached, but that only gives them more value.”

“Our own? Hey! Give them back to us right away!”

Nekharan laughed. “It doesn’t work that way, my friend. They no longer belong to you. They are the property of the bank now. But since you no longer own anything, you can take a loan with us and repay us later.”

Gerry narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” The banker grinned. “Just make sure you pay your installments this time.”

If you like my writing, please consider buying a copy of my novel, upgrading to a paid subscription, or making a Paypal or Ko-fi donation. As an independent author, any of these would help a lot!

I don’t often write horror, but if you liked this one, you might like these as well:

• Within These Walls (another creepy house, but not so funny…)

• The Creature in the Cabin (an attempt to stop a nightmare turns into an epic fail)

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Thank you!

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Text (c) 2025 by Alex S. Garcia.

Header: royalty-free stock image, edited by me.

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