Reassuring Tales (Expanded Edition) by T.E.D. Klein

Author:T.E.D. Klein [Klein, T.E.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror, Dark Fantasy, Weird Fiction
Publisher: Stasheff Literary Enterprises
Published: 2021-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

Now that he’d begun to get his bearings, he could see what this place actually was: an old stone house converted to an inn—in fact, it appeared, judging from the room and its furnishings, a sort of theme inn. There was even, by the door, a simple check-in counter, complete with oversize guest book and credit-card machine.

Determined to explore the house further—the house? he’d half begun to think of it as his house, for he sensed that the mystery was perhaps going to be solved in his favor—he wandered through another doorway into what appeared to be the main room. It was as deserted as the first, dimly lit, and dominated by an even larger fireplace, though at the moment it was bare. The only illumination came from a recessed light in the ceiling. Most of the floor was covered by a thin green carpet and, near the fireplace, by a slightly ratty bearskin rug; as he circled the room, the rug felt good against his feet. Along one wall a bay window revealed the dark shapes of trees and what may have been a lawn. Beyond the trees, the night looked almost impenetrable.

In the shadows against the farther wall, behind a row of high wooden chairs, stood a small but well-stocked bar. He crossed to it and, still in his damp towel, hoisted himself into one of the seats. The air here smelled pleasantly of liquor. On the bar top, just within the perimeter of light, lay a stack of printed cocktail napkins bearing a cartoon of a grinning ghoul in a cape with a high peaked collar. He noticed, with mingled relief and disappointment, that the ghoul’s face was so crude as to be unrecognizable; after the shock of hearing his voice on the tape, he’d half expected that the face would be a caricature of his own. The creature was welcoming guests into a forbidding-looking mansion, cartoon-gothic in style, surrounded by a flock of cartoon bats. A sign in front read COUNT JUGULA’S DEAD & DREADFAST.

Appalled by the pun, he winced and looked away—and noticed, on the wall above the bar, a set of framed pictures; or rather, he could see now, framed articles. They were in shadow, however; he couldn’t make out what they said. Snapping on a small clown-shaped novelty lamp, he got down from the chair and walked behind the bar to examine them.

The largest of them, an entire page from one of the supermarket tabloids, caught his eye first—not because of its size, but because it bore a muddy black-and-white photo of Crumley himself, or of a man who looked just like him, dressed in an expensive tie and jacket and standing, it appeared, before some sort of public building. He was grinning broadly; Crumley, though horrified at the context, was pleased to see how good he looked. The headline proclaimed PAROLED KILLER ALL SMILES NOW—BUT THE FANGS STILL SHOW.

Above it, and already slightly yellowed, hung a small newspaper editorial (“Blood Money”) expressing

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