Through The Curtains

By Brett Williams
© 2009, All Rights Reserved

Through the curtains she watches. Across the street boys carve pumpkins. Leaves rustle in the breeze. They prepare an orange blight on the community. Always with the Jack-o-lanterns. Always with the occult. Witches. Black cats. Candy. Pranks.

The shitters. Hasn’t New Bedlam had enough evil to last?

Her voice cracks; she rarely speaks. “It’s a sacrilege to celebrate such blatant devilishness. Makes me sick.”

Mary brushes against her leg and purrs as she peers out the window, keeping an eye on things. Somebody has to or else it will get out of hand. Again. “They’re one step away from openly worshipping demons and spiting the church.”

Her eyes narrow, watching the boys place a scowling orange head on the front steps. Her blood begins to boil. The thing was staring straight at her, knowing, watching her in return. It would laugh at her as the evil spread. Only a few days remained before the night of roaming evildoers arrived.

This year would be the year. She’d take care of the little shitters. They always loved her home-baked cookies.

“C’mon, Mary. We’ve got cookies to bake.” The elderly woman drew the curtains shut and began to shuffle toward the kitchen. “Now, where did I put the arsenic?”

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Brett Williams is a writer of literary rock ‘n’ roll. For more thrilling tales of suspense, visit his website at www.BrettWilliamsFiction.com.