She stepped inside and pictured it with lounge chairs, a bookshelf, maybe a little woodstove for winter. First, though, they'd need to do some serious weeding. Raspberries? She cleaned a peephole in the grime and peered out.
A head popped up from the thicket.
Tanya fell back with a yelp.
Sunken brown eyes widened, and wizened lips parted in a matching shriek of surprise.
Tanya hurried out as the old woman made her way from the thicket, a basket of red berries in one hand.
Tanya motioned at the basket. "Late for raspberries, isn't it?"
The old woman smiled. "They're double-booming. At least there's one good thing to come out of this place." She looked over at the house. "You aren't... looking to buy, are you?"
"I might be."
The woman's free hand gripped Tanya's arm. "No, dear. You don't want to do that."
"I hear there's some history."
"History?" The old woman shivered. "Horrors. Blasphemies. Murders. Foul murders. No, dear, you don't want this house, not at all."
Foul murders?
Klik.
Aaaaarrrrgggghhhh!
Total darkness. I swear, my heart nearly stopped just now. I sat alone in the dark, my heart doing thump-a-thump-thump.
What just happened? Huh? What happened? Was it me who just screamed not one minute ago?
Ohh. Ohhhhhhh.
Can somebody fix the dumb light in my room please?
P.S. = Story from the book "Twilight Zone" edited by Carol Sterling.
P.P.S. = Azida, please don't read horror stories anymore, you cuckoo.




