The Universe of Horror Volume 3: The Long Night of the Grave (Neccon Classic Horror) by Grant Charles L

Author:Grant, Charles L. [Grant, Charles L.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, pdf
Publisher: Necon Ebooks
Published: 2012-09-18T16:00:00+00:00

The doorknob turned slowly; a muffled thump as if whoever was outside had kicked the nailed door in pique.

Cautiously he moved down to the last step, wincing at each creak, holding his breath and briefly closing his eyes. His hand grabbed on the newel post in readiness to swing him around in case he had to run for the back, and he stared hard at the door as if he might see through the wood to the person on the other side.

Silence.

He let himself breathe freely and took the last step to the floor.

And swore silently when he glanced toward the back — if whoever it was out there went around to the kitchen, they would find the broken pane. They would get in. And he had no good explanation of why he was here.

The doorknob turned again, harder this time.

The urge to call out and tell whoever it was that the door was sealed was strong, yet something stayed him. The feeling of standing too close to ice. The scent of something just past ripe. None of it was real, but his hand remained on the post until he heard a weight shifting impatiently on the other side of the door. He broke from his standing and hurried as quietly as he could along the hall, praying he’d have the time to get out before he was spotted.

His foot came down on a piece of glass, and he stopped with one hand grasping the latch, listening until the knob rattled a third time. Then he eased open the door, closed it silently behind him, and dashed across the yard into the trees.

A cloud split and the moonlight lay silver over the cottage and the grass, setting the windows deeper into the shadow.

He waited, crouched behind the stark trunk of a lightning-dead elm, the bark rough against his palms, his breath rasping no matter how hard he tried to keep it silent.

Thunder grumbled distantly to the south; the storm was finally moving off though the wind was rising again, snapping the higher branches and stirring the leaves on the ground.

The black behind him a weight on his shoulders, the cottage ahead shimmering when he found himself staring too long.

The wind grew damp.

He pulled his collar closer about his neck, about to dare leaving when he saw a pale shadow drift around the side of the cottage. Not very tall. Hooded. The hem of its cloak whispering over the grass. A single hand visible, holding the neck closed.

He stared so hard his eyes began to water, but the features he sought were invisible, and nothing about the shadow’s movements suggested anyone he knew.

It stopped at the door, and he heard a quick gasp, saw it whirl around to stare at the dark woods. Then it was gone, light footsteps running, and he leaned against the tree with a silent sigh of relief, a slow shake of his head. It would do no good to run after it; even if he managed to learn who it was, he had no ready explanation for his own presence here.

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