The Darkness beckons in this eerie fable of a night gone wrong. Someone is knocking, from inside the house. From the other side of the cellar door!
What murky fate awaits in the shadows beneath her home? A frightful evening connects to a scary incident from the past, forcing Cynthia Goodwin to accept a painful truth about herself . . . and what lies in the dark down there.
Author of Leery Lane, The Witchhunt, Monstrosities, Samhain, Cornstalker, Old Bogey and other chilling yarns, Lori R. Lopez presents a haunting choice: to flee the house or remain and protect a litter of kittens from an unknown menace. What would you do in her Bunny Slippers?
A blend of suspenseful, humorous and quiet shivers, the Short Story also contains touches of Psychological and Cosmic Horror. It will be featured in Lori’s Spooktacular Tales Ghost Collection, coming soon!
“A sharp knock distracted her from an engrossing narrative. What was that? Brown orbs shifted to the clock, an ugly elaborate Wallflower she’d have junked if it weren’t a gift from her husband. After Midnight. An uncommon hour for visitors.”
Don’t think about it. Suspense could kill, lethal as a finger on a trigger. Authentic in-your-face suspense.
~ from The Dark Down There
A sharp knock distracted her from an engrossing narrative. What was that? Brown orbs shifted to the clock, an ugly elaborate Wallflower she’d have junked if it weren’t a gift from her husband. After Midnight. An uncommon hour for visitors. The tap was so rapid, unannounced, Cynthia Goodwin presumed she imagined it: the product of an anxious mental state. A second tap proved the first was real — with a distinct authority or attitude. A sense of purpose and intent. Had it been a regular knock, from outside her house, she might worry something was wrong, that she was being notified. (If anyone were left to be jittery about.)
Instead, her brain activated another type of fear . . . the kind when you know something is awfully amiss. Nobody should be knocking from inside her cellar.
A profoundly unsettling fact.
Eyelids sagged for a lengthy blink as balance teetered. What would Henry do?
He wouldn’t sit here like a Puppet without a Master!
Nodding, she laid her book on a padded footstool, the pages parted, and unkinked from her chair. With soft furtive steps in fluffy slippers shaped like bunnies she approached the door, then carefully pressed an ear to a cool surface. Panting stifled, posture rigid, she listened.