Six-year-old Mona Peterson watched a quartet of flies buzz in and out of a gap in the wooden planks on the living room floor. Her hazel eyes followed the pests as they flew in a circular pattern. Every few seconds one fly would break ranks and plunge into an opening. The others followed, disappeared for an instant, and then came out to begin the strange routine again.
After three minutes of witnessing this odd behavior, Mona peeked in the dark hole. Nothing was visible. Each time the flies exited the gap, she moved her head out of the way. When they flew in, she opened her right eye wide, hoping to discover the reason for the insects’ odd behavior.
“Honey, what are you doing?” Mona’s babysitter asked.
The little girl glanced towards the sofa but quickly returned her gaze to the floor.
“Mona, are you sad that your daddy was rushed to the hospital? Don’t worry, he’ll be alright.”
Mona continued to focus on the morbid aerial show.
“Mona?” The babysitter rose from the sofa and stood over the little girl. “What are you doing?”
Mona pointed at the flies and said, “They’re playing peek-a-boo.”
The sitter crouched next to Mona and with a key, jimmied the loose floorboard. All of a sudden, the four flies sprung out followed by ten more. Mona’s loud screams carried throughout the house. Inside the hole lay a bloody finger with her father’s gold wedding band still on it.