.....-----.....-----.....
Tiny Sorcha Rhyne sat bolt upright in the darkness. "Who's there?"
No one, whispered the darkness.
"I see you there. Come out."
No one stood by the door, back in the corner, behind
the dresser. No one stared. No one cried softly.
Sorcha glanced down at her husband, Django. He was
beautiful, but he was sound asleep. Sorcha swung her gaze to the darkness in
the corner. The darkness stared back, but didn't move. "Django, wake
up!" Without looking, she shoved his shoulder, hard! She put her hand in
his wavy hair and tugged. A fierce whisper, "Honey, there's someone in our
room!" Django didn't move.
The someone coalesce into a lighter shade of
darkness. It came toward her. One step. Two steps out of the corner.
Sorcha drew back against the headboard, pulling the
sheets up over her breasts. She reached toward the nightstand--hoping to find a
weapon. Something!
When the hallway door opened, Sorcha jumped a foot.
The shape slipped out of an impossibly thin opening
and disappeared into the hallway.
"Don't you go out there," she said to
herself. "Don't you dare." She looked at Django. Still asleep. What
was wrong with him? Why wouldn't he wake up for her? She couldn't wait to
figure it out. Whoever had been in their room was slipping away. What if he,
she or it went into some other guest's room?
Before she could stop herself, she swung her feet
over the edge of the bed and slipped down onto the floor. Her slippers were
waiting, pointed out to keep little demon's from finding their way into her
bed. She grabbed a nightgown off the bottom post of the four poster bed and crept
to the door.
.....-----.....-----.....
You know, this stuff is even more fun sitting around a campfire while someone reads this story to you aloud. (Insert evil laughter.)
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