Anniversary Wish - Alternate Ending (sort of)

The knocking at the door was like scraping finger nails on a black slate chalkboard. His wife's whimpers were like those of a newborn puppy. The swoosh-swoosh in his ears was the sound the blood in his veins made with each heartbeat.

"Let me go," his struggling wife demanded.

"But it's not him," he pleaded. Grip slipping.

She broke free; his sweaty, groping hand found the charm.

He whispered a desperate wish, his wife foolhardily unlocked the door. Putrid air blew through the empty doorway. Their son, taken by the wood chipper last year, could now rest in peace.