Clutching the brown paper bag in her right arm, Sarah Prescott settled her purse securely on her shoulder, switched the bag to that arm, and dug into her coat pocket for her keys. A gust of wind slammed into her from behind, shoving her forward a step and slipping under her coat, and even her sweater, to send a chill up her spine. She hated fall. She hated winter more, but she really hated the fall because that meant winter was just around the corner.
Where the hell were her keys? She pulled out a crumpled tissue and pushed aside some coins. Damn, it was cold. Another reason to hate the fall. That and the leaves. Leaves fucking everywhere in this town. And they seemed to converge on her property.
“Sarah. Saaaaarah.”
She paused, jerked her …show more content…
The light from the fading afternoon cast long, eerie shadows across the living room. She scanned the room and identified the hall table, the couch and a chair, and in the corner stood a—“Aaaagh!” She screamed at the man standing just under the staircase. “Aaaaaagh!” Her voice rose in a high, fingers-on-the-chalk-board pitch. But he didn’t move, as if he were frozen in time. Time. It was the grandfather clock. I’m an idiot. I need to remember to leave a light on.
She raised her fist with the key still firmly between her two fingers and moved inside the house. The stairs, hidden in a murky gloom, reminded of her that old movie The Ghost and Mr. Chicken. She figured her eyes looked about as big as the poor guy trapped in the haunted house for the night. Flicking on the small table lamp next to the door, she took a deep breath.
It must have been the wind. Or the foundation. Didn’t that creak on an old house? She walked into the kitchen and set down the groceries. Catching her reflection in the microwave, a chuckle escaped. Her dark hair hung wet and limp down the sides of her face, and she wiped at the mascara now smudged beneath her eyes. “Shit, I’ll be the one scaring the ghost.” The panic eased and Sarah laughed at herself. “At least Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome isn’t here to see me in my finest …show more content…
Eric stood, walking away from his medical handiwork. “Days, like people, come and go whether you’re truly aware of them or not.”
“I’m aware,” Sarah replied, wondering why she was no longer unnerved. A strange man was standing in her kitchen, explaining her own house to her. He had played the hero to her damsel-in-distress moment. Maybe that was it. She’d not been taken care of in a long time. Or maybe it was the way his dark eyes sparkled in the light. Maybe it was because she’d not had sex in a really long time. She pulled herself together and adjusted the front of her shirt, reminding herself she was in control. She was always in control.
“Why don’t you tell me what you know about this place? I mean, if there’s a poltergeist in my house, maybe I need to be more careful about leaving the television on. I would hate to end up on another earthly plane with that little blonde girl—whatshername,” she said, snapping her fingers and searching the eighties movie references swirling in her head. “Carol
Where the hell were her keys? She pulled out a crumpled tissue and pushed aside some coins. Damn, it was cold. Another reason to hate the fall. That and the leaves. Leaves fucking everywhere in this town. And they seemed to converge on her property.
“Sarah. Saaaaarah.”
She paused, jerked her …show more content…
The light from the fading afternoon cast long, eerie shadows across the living room. She scanned the room and identified the hall table, the couch and a chair, and in the corner stood a—“Aaaagh!” She screamed at the man standing just under the staircase. “Aaaaaagh!” Her voice rose in a high, fingers-on-the-chalk-board pitch. But he didn’t move, as if he were frozen in time. Time. It was the grandfather clock. I’m an idiot. I need to remember to leave a light on.
She raised her fist with the key still firmly between her two fingers and moved inside the house. The stairs, hidden in a murky gloom, reminded of her that old movie The Ghost and Mr. Chicken. She figured her eyes looked about as big as the poor guy trapped in the haunted house for the night. Flicking on the small table lamp next to the door, she took a deep breath.
It must have been the wind. Or the foundation. Didn’t that creak on an old house? She walked into the kitchen and set down the groceries. Catching her reflection in the microwave, a chuckle escaped. Her dark hair hung wet and limp down the sides of her face, and she wiped at the mascara now smudged beneath her eyes. “Shit, I’ll be the one scaring the ghost.” The panic eased and Sarah laughed at herself. “At least Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome isn’t here to see me in my finest …show more content…
Eric stood, walking away from his medical handiwork. “Days, like people, come and go whether you’re truly aware of them or not.”
“I’m aware,” Sarah replied, wondering why she was no longer unnerved. A strange man was standing in her kitchen, explaining her own house to her. He had played the hero to her damsel-in-distress moment. Maybe that was it. She’d not been taken care of in a long time. Or maybe it was the way his dark eyes sparkled in the light. Maybe it was because she’d not had sex in a really long time. She pulled herself together and adjusted the front of her shirt, reminding herself she was in control. She was always in control.
“Why don’t you tell me what you know about this place? I mean, if there’s a poltergeist in my house, maybe I need to be more careful about leaving the television on. I would hate to end up on another earthly plane with that little blonde girl—whatshername,” she said, snapping her fingers and searching the eighties movie references swirling in her head. “Carol