shoulder at the second floor landing.
“ Get in there and lock the
door. Don’t come out unless I say so.” Gladys’ cocked the pistol
and advanced to the bottom of the stairs.
“ Come on, let’s go.” Ross
tugged on Gloria’s arm. “I don’t want anything to happen to
you.”
Gloria nodded and hurried
after her mom, Ross bringing up the rear with the motorized
wheelchair. The door slammed shut behind them.
Gladys eyed the second
floor. One slow step at a time, she ascended the polished marble. A
tingle crawled up her spine. The hair along her neck prickled. She
reached the landing, stopped to listen for a moment then advanced
toward the open door of the bedroom.
Through the space between
the door and the frame, Gladys saw the open safe door. Despite the
frigid air from the open window, she grew clammy with sweat. She
tightened her grip on the pistol, and jumped inside the old
bedroom, only to find it empty. Eyes locked on the painting leaning
against the back wall, she advanced toward the safe. A stench of
corruption hung like a thick fog in the air. Something about the
portrait looked strange. The dark haired man was missing from the
canvas! Only the faces of his suffering victims stared back at
her.
The window curtains next to
the safe whipped and fluttered in the breeze. “He’s out there,
looking for a new victim.” Gladys mumbled. “I wish I had time to
change into my business outfit.” She shrugged. “Just gotta go as
is.”
She leaned from the broken
window, eyeing the twenty foot drop to the ground, then turned and
ran down the landing. Her soft soled shoes covered three stairs at
every step. Once outside leaves rustled and rolled in the strong
wind, masking any sounds her quarry might make. Debating on
retrieving her .410 shotgun from the van she pushed the idea from
her mind and raced down the outside steps.
Which way would he go? She
trotted toward the lights of the nearest house. A chorus of barking
dogs filled the night. Her long strides covered the ground at a
frantic pace. Pain filled howls replaced the barking,
panic-stricken yapping filled her ears.
“ What in the hell’s wrong
with you mutts?” a gruff voice shouted. “That’s enough. I’m trying
to get some sleep.”
A dark silhouette emerged
from the shadows. The porch light above the robed man’s head hid
the shape’s approach.
“ Get back in the house, you
idiot.” Gladys shouted. She covered the ground quickly.
Slowly becoming aware of
the danger, the man’s mouth dropped open in surprise as an oddly
garbed creature stepped onto the wood framed porch. Eyes bulged in
horror, an unvoiced scream died in his throat. He backed to the
door, reaching behind him, fumbling for the knob.
“ Marcy, open the door.
Marcy, hurry, Open the door.” His panicked voice filled the
night.
Gladys tucked the pistol
under the belt around her waist. When her feet hit the bottom step,
she wrapped her forearms around her face and unleashed all the
strength in her tightly muscled legs in one titanic leap. Her
elbows struck the massive creature’s back. She felt the tightly
coiled muscles under his old fashioned clothes. The momentum of her
leap carried them to the hardwood surface in a heap. Although she
expected her opponent to stay down, she bounded quickly to her
feet.
To her surprise he rolled
upright and stood before her. Gladys took a step back as she saw
his face for the first time. Coal black hair topped a hard cruel
face. The scarred flesh along the forehead and cheeks stretched as
thin as parchment. Close-set red eyes, filled with loathing, sent
goose bumps crawling over her body.
“ Who are you to rob me of my
feast?” he demanded. Saliva dripped from sharp dagger like teeth.
“You can’t stop me. My power is too great.”
“ I’m The Pulptress and I’ve
stopped guys like you for years.” The Gladys personality vanished
in an instant.
“ I am Oskar Von Rohm, a
noble man from the old country.” He turned and
“ Get in there and lock the
door. Don’t come out unless I say so.” Gladys’ cocked the pistol
and advanced to the bottom of the stairs.
“ Come on, let’s go.” Ross
tugged on Gloria’s arm. “I don’t want anything to happen to
you.”
Gloria nodded and hurried
after her mom, Ross bringing up the rear with the motorized
wheelchair. The door slammed shut behind them.
Gladys eyed the second
floor. One slow step at a time, she ascended the polished marble. A
tingle crawled up her spine. The hair along her neck prickled. She
reached the landing, stopped to listen for a moment then advanced
toward the open door of the bedroom.
Through the space between
the door and the frame, Gladys saw the open safe door. Despite the
frigid air from the open window, she grew clammy with sweat. She
tightened her grip on the pistol, and jumped inside the old
bedroom, only to find it empty. Eyes locked on the painting leaning
against the back wall, she advanced toward the safe. A stench of
corruption hung like a thick fog in the air. Something about the
portrait looked strange. The dark haired man was missing from the
canvas! Only the faces of his suffering victims stared back at
her.
The window curtains next to
the safe whipped and fluttered in the breeze. “He’s out there,
looking for a new victim.” Gladys mumbled. “I wish I had time to
change into my business outfit.” She shrugged. “Just gotta go as
is.”
She leaned from the broken
window, eyeing the twenty foot drop to the ground, then turned and
ran down the landing. Her soft soled shoes covered three stairs at
every step. Once outside leaves rustled and rolled in the strong
wind, masking any sounds her quarry might make. Debating on
retrieving her .410 shotgun from the van she pushed the idea from
her mind and raced down the outside steps.
Which way would he go? She
trotted toward the lights of the nearest house. A chorus of barking
dogs filled the night. Her long strides covered the ground at a
frantic pace. Pain filled howls replaced the barking,
panic-stricken yapping filled her ears.
“ What in the hell’s wrong
with you mutts?” a gruff voice shouted. “That’s enough. I’m trying
to get some sleep.”
A dark silhouette emerged
from the shadows. The porch light above the robed man’s head hid
the shape’s approach.
“ Get back in the house, you
idiot.” Gladys shouted. She covered the ground quickly.
Slowly becoming aware of
the danger, the man’s mouth dropped open in surprise as an oddly
garbed creature stepped onto the wood framed porch. Eyes bulged in
horror, an unvoiced scream died in his throat. He backed to the
door, reaching behind him, fumbling for the knob.
“ Marcy, open the door.
Marcy, hurry, Open the door.” His panicked voice filled the
night.
Gladys tucked the pistol
under the belt around her waist. When her feet hit the bottom step,
she wrapped her forearms around her face and unleashed all the
strength in her tightly muscled legs in one titanic leap. Her
elbows struck the massive creature’s back. She felt the tightly
coiled muscles under his old fashioned clothes. The momentum of her
leap carried them to the hardwood surface in a heap. Although she
expected her opponent to stay down, she bounded quickly to her
feet.
To her surprise he rolled
upright and stood before her. Gladys took a step back as she saw
his face for the first time. Coal black hair topped a hard cruel
face. The scarred flesh along the forehead and cheeks stretched as
thin as parchment. Close-set red eyes, filled with loathing, sent
goose bumps crawling over her body.
“ Who are you to rob me of my
feast?” he demanded. Saliva dripped from sharp dagger like teeth.
“You can’t stop me. My power is too great.”
“ I’m The Pulptress and I’ve
stopped guys like you for years.” The Gladys personality vanished
in an instant.
“ I am Oskar Von Rohm, a
noble man from the old country.” He turned and
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