In Creeps The Night by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: psychopaths, Sara Daniell, Drea Damara, vampires, Rebecka Vigus, Morgan Griffith, Michael Wombat, halloween, Ailsa Abraham, Beth Avery, Sorcha O’Dowd, Marissa Ames, E.G. Smith, Cory John Eadson, ghosts, a.d. trosper, Brian R. Luedtke, Tom Mohan, Shaun Avery, Murder, anthology, Ruth Long, Natalie Gibson, Lionel Ray Green, flash fiction, Angie Trafford, J. Whitworth Hazzard, Lisa Shambrook, Kayleigh Edwards, collections, Mary MacFarlane, horror anthology, Nick Johns, LaDonna Cole, multi-author collection, Andrew Patch, Eric Brown, S.R. Karfelt, Mark W. Coulter, horror, killer, Chris Fitzner, A.R. Meyering, Rebecca Fyfe, K.R. Smith, Eric Martell, J.S. Bailey, M.A. Walker, D.L. Smith-Lee, Kevin G. Bufton, evil, Elle K. White, Spencer Stoner, flash fiction anthology, Laura Jamez, D.M. Kilgore, Leslie Fulton, short stories, Kevin Hammond, monsters, Ryan T. Nuhfer, werewolves, Andrew Weston, Joni Lynn, witches, Theresa Miller, short fiction, katie jennings, S. L. Wilson, short story anthology
Publisher: BHC Press
Published: 2015-11-28T05:00:00+00:00

COLORFUL CHRYSANTHEMUMS BRIGHTENED the stone foundation of Gloria Anderson’s 1927 house. The entire house—including the enclosed front porch—consisted of less than a thousand square feet. The feature that sold Gloria on the tiny fixer-upper had been the rustic stone basement. A seven-by-seven foot earthen wine cellar abutted the north end of the basement, complete with an ancient looking arched wooden door. On the other side of the door three wide pieces of slate served as steps, and the air inside the wine cellar stayed at fifty-two degrees year round. It reminded her of Italy, although she’d never been there. Gloria could barely stand up in the space, but it made the tiny house, and for the first time in her life she wasn’t living in an apartment all alone. She lived in a house all alone.

Plain, stocky women didn’t get married in Gloria’s day. The men of her generation preferred svelte Hepburn, Mia Farrow, or Twiggy looking women. Over the years Gloria had often wished just one good man would find strong peasant stock worthy. No one ever did, but Gloria’s kind-hearted family made up for that deficit. She attended every wedding, anniversary, and school event, and became Aunt Gloria to even her own brothers. After purchasing the house, that legacy proved fruitful to the aging homeowner. A niece in high school mowed her grass every Saturday; her brothers painted the house inside and out, and nephews dragged a brand new washer and dryer into the old stone basement.

On a Saturday in mid-September her niece mowed the yard while Gloria pulled weeds, and after completing their tasks they went through the back door together so Jasmine could collect payment. This week’s payment consisted of a box of homemade raisin oatmeal, chocolate chip cookies and a ten-dollar bill.

Jasmine lifted the lid of the shoebox lined in wax paper and crammed a cookie into her mouth. “Probably the last mow of the season, but I’ll rake for you when you need it. Did you finish the book I gave you?”

“Yes. I always read everything you give me, even the sparkly vampire stuff. I want the next one in the series now.”

Jasmine crammed another cookie into her mouth. She reminded Gloria of herself, capable and strong, only prettier and not afraid to talk with her mouth full. “It’ll cost you some sugar cookies—the frosted kind.”

“It’s a deal,” Gloria promised, and went straight to her little bathroom after Jasmine’s departure. Turning on the hot water while sweat trickled down her back, she noticed dirt under her fingernails and picked at it while peeling off her housedress.

A knock sounded at the back door, which usually meant family. Gloria shouted, “Come on in!” and hurried into the shower, tugging the curtain shut. “I’m in the shower! Give me two minutes!” She scratched her fingernails over the bar of soap, wishing she’d remembered to do so earlier, before she’d weeded all morning.

It surprised her when someone pushed the bathroom door open, and before her pragmatic mind could

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