door of the pool area. Standing there, like an angel from a dream, stood a young woman with the eyes of the devil. Millie Kafka dropped her steaming cup of tea, and clenched the little gold cross hanging around her wrinkled neck. There was evil here. She had never been so sure of anything in her long life.
Harold began coughing, his hot cup of lemon tea joining Millie’s on the maroon carpet. After a few more body shuddering barks, he brought his rough and wrinkled hands away from his face. His palms were full of blood.
“Harold, Harold? Oh my, oh my, Harold? Someone help!” Millie cried as her husband collapsed to the floor. She glanced back up at the girl in the pool room. The she-devil with the features of a beauty queen, smiled behind the blackest eyes Millie Kafka had ever seen.
Kurt, his sudden illness past, heard the woman’s pleas for help as he came out from the back office. He grabbed the portable phone from the desk, and dialing 911, rushed down the corridor to where the woman stood staring across from where her husband lie convulsing on the floor.
“Yes, yes, I work at the Bruton Inn out on Route 5. We n-need an ambulance. Oh my God, oh my God, there’s a man having a heart attack or something,” Kurt said. “Yes, I don’t know, I don’t know. He needs help, please hurry.” The line went dead. “Hello? Hello?”
Kurt reached the elderly couple, and tossed the phone on the floor. He knelt next to the quivering body of the old man. There was blood all over the guy’s mouth, neck, and hands. Kurt looked up at the wife for help, finding her still gazing across the hall, clenching her necklace and quietly chanting something he couldn’t understand. He turned to see what could be more important than tending to her dying husband. There was nothing–just the door to the pool room.
Despite the inn being at ninety percent capacity, the hallway remained eerily vacant, cold even. The man’s body stopped its convulsions and lay perfectly still. He was gone.
Millie Kafka prayed against the demon. The demon that looked like a pretty young girl and smiled like an arsonist watching their work go up in the brightest, most wondrous conflagration. The devil’s eyes dissolved into black hollows, her skin draining of color, leaving her epidermis ashen in its wake. Millie watched in horror, oblivious to the young man kneeling at her dying husband’s side trying to speak with her, ignorant of the blood running from her palm that clenched the gold cross her granddaughter, Abby, had given her for Christmas last year–the thing before her continued to change, revealing its true self.
The grey skin tightened, highlighting every bone in the body of the ghastly creature behind the glass. Millie watched the long flowing brown curls surrounding the skull-faced demon turn from a dark auburn to a flat white. Pain, blossoming to life in her right arm and chest, whispered of her fate.
The succubus passed through the pool room door, and spoke empty promises to Millie Kafka’s ears. It made good on only one–the demon swallowed the elderly woman’s last breath. In a final, vulgar display of power, the creature surged forward, disappearing in a flash of invisible energy, blowing the brittle body of the old lady off her feet, and slamming her into the wall at her back.
An impossible chill permeated the hallway. Kurt stared at the elderly woman crumpled on the floor. The black-and-white framed photo of the Maine capital building lay shattered at her feet. He stared into her dead eyes, holding her husband in his arms, slipping into a state of shock himself. The doors at the entrance flew open. Two paramedics came rushing down the hall. Kurt’s mind swayed. His skin tingled, prompting a rash of goose bumps. He could no longer feel the deceased man in his arms or the emotions that had swam through his mind like a school of fish darting from one direction to the next. He turned to face the man with the white
Harold began coughing, his hot cup of lemon tea joining Millie’s on the maroon carpet. After a few more body shuddering barks, he brought his rough and wrinkled hands away from his face. His palms were full of blood.
“Harold, Harold? Oh my, oh my, Harold? Someone help!” Millie cried as her husband collapsed to the floor. She glanced back up at the girl in the pool room. The she-devil with the features of a beauty queen, smiled behind the blackest eyes Millie Kafka had ever seen.
Kurt, his sudden illness past, heard the woman’s pleas for help as he came out from the back office. He grabbed the portable phone from the desk, and dialing 911, rushed down the corridor to where the woman stood staring across from where her husband lie convulsing on the floor.
“Yes, yes, I work at the Bruton Inn out on Route 5. We n-need an ambulance. Oh my God, oh my God, there’s a man having a heart attack or something,” Kurt said. “Yes, I don’t know, I don’t know. He needs help, please hurry.” The line went dead. “Hello? Hello?”
Kurt reached the elderly couple, and tossed the phone on the floor. He knelt next to the quivering body of the old man. There was blood all over the guy’s mouth, neck, and hands. Kurt looked up at the wife for help, finding her still gazing across the hall, clenching her necklace and quietly chanting something he couldn’t understand. He turned to see what could be more important than tending to her dying husband. There was nothing–just the door to the pool room.
Despite the inn being at ninety percent capacity, the hallway remained eerily vacant, cold even. The man’s body stopped its convulsions and lay perfectly still. He was gone.
Millie Kafka prayed against the demon. The demon that looked like a pretty young girl and smiled like an arsonist watching their work go up in the brightest, most wondrous conflagration. The devil’s eyes dissolved into black hollows, her skin draining of color, leaving her epidermis ashen in its wake. Millie watched in horror, oblivious to the young man kneeling at her dying husband’s side trying to speak with her, ignorant of the blood running from her palm that clenched the gold cross her granddaughter, Abby, had given her for Christmas last year–the thing before her continued to change, revealing its true self.
The grey skin tightened, highlighting every bone in the body of the ghastly creature behind the glass. Millie watched the long flowing brown curls surrounding the skull-faced demon turn from a dark auburn to a flat white. Pain, blossoming to life in her right arm and chest, whispered of her fate.
The succubus passed through the pool room door, and spoke empty promises to Millie Kafka’s ears. It made good on only one–the demon swallowed the elderly woman’s last breath. In a final, vulgar display of power, the creature surged forward, disappearing in a flash of invisible energy, blowing the brittle body of the old lady off her feet, and slamming her into the wall at her back.
An impossible chill permeated the hallway. Kurt stared at the elderly woman crumpled on the floor. The black-and-white framed photo of the Maine capital building lay shattered at her feet. He stared into her dead eyes, holding her husband in his arms, slipping into a state of shock himself. The doors at the entrance flew open. Two paramedics came rushing down the hall. Kurt’s mind swayed. His skin tingled, prompting a rash of goose bumps. He could no longer feel the deceased man in his arms or the emotions that had swam through his mind like a school of fish darting from one direction to the next. He turned to face the man with the white
Similar Books
