walking bones

It was a creature from the past come to life, parading in front of the museum as though he'd escaped without consequence. The little boy clung to his mother's hand, uncertain of what to think of the monster without skin, and by the look on his face I was certain he thought he should flee while he had the chance. But he stood his ground and stared into the eyes without socket and gazed at the skeleton waggling in front of him, a certain thrill at the idea that he might be eaten at any moment. After all, if he were gobbled up by the monstrous jaws, he could probably escape through the hollow neck or past the bare ribs.