By Suzanna Stanbury

Esme was just settling down in front of the television with a nice glass of amontillado when there was a knock on the door. Grumbling, she hoisted her body out of the chair and out into the darkened hallway. She flipped on the light and checked through the peephole. There was no-one there. Overcome by curiosity, Esme opened the door and peered out into the porch. She thought there may have been children on the doorstep dressed as ghouls, witches and possibly some small Dr Hannibal Lectors – but there was no-one waiting by the door ready to shriek ‘trick or treat’ at her. What a shame as she’d been ready for them to call. Just as Esme was about to close the door, a cold wind rushed past her into the hallway. She shivered as it chilled her on its way deeper inside the house. Gathering her cardigan tightly around her body Esme returned to her cosy living room. She lit a few more candles to improve the atmosphere; after all, it was Halloween, her most favourite night of the year.

She clicked the remote control and the television sprang into life, just in time for an evening of chilling movies. She sipped at her sherry, feeling it warm her throat after the cold wind had seeped through her in the doorway. Some way into the film, Esme heard a tiny noise elsewhere in the house. She muted the sound on the television and listened carefully. The tiny noise came again, it sounded like it was in the kitchen. It was a clipping kind of noise, like something was walking over the tiled floor. Esme pressed down on the arms of the ancient wing backed chair, its leather worn away to a mellow smoothness by years of her hands grasping at it. She shuffled through the living room, pushed aside a huge trailing plant that was threatening to take it over, and came within sight of the kitchen. The light was still on over the range, casting a glow over the dark red tiles on the floor. She pulled at the spectacles perched on the end of her nose, trying hard to see if there was something in her kitchen.

“Is that you Sheba?”

No answering meow could be heard. The wind had started up outside, whispering through the trees, stirring the branches. When it picked up properly it would soon be howling through the attics, chasing through all the nooks and crannies in the draughty old house.

Esme placed the empty sherry glass back on the silver tray on the dresser. She twisted her lip as she considered whether it was perhaps time for a little wine. A nice, deep red claret. She nodded and reached into the wine rack to select a suitably dusty bottle, it ought to be a good one to celebrate the night. She decided to use the best crystal too and picked up a sparkling goblet, polishing it on her sleeve as she held it up to admire the colours glinting in the light from the candelabra. A sudden noise startled her; the glass jumped out of her hand, spiralling into the air. Esme reached out to save it, but just managed to touch its base, which only served to launch it faster into the kitchen. She waited to see what would happen, watching as it pirouetted over the steps, crashing on the hard tiled floor, holding its shape for a split second before exploding into a thousand shards of pointed crystal.

“Curses. I’ll deal with that later.” She took another glass and opened the claret, watching as a large helping of wine filled another goblet. Esme took a gulp, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the rich, full bodied taste. She opened one of her eyes and then the other, remaining very still on the spot where she stood by the dresser. Out of the corner of her eye, she’d spotted a movement. Something was creeping across the kitchen floor towards the three polished wooden steps. She remained quite still, trying to see in the reflection of her spectacles what it could be. She knew it couldn’t be Sheba; it was the wrong kind of movement for a cat. Felines had a sensuous, sleek and graceful glide. This was a stealthy, sneaking kind of crawl. There was a crunching noise and a mewling sound of pain as whatever it was walked across the shards of fallen goblet.

Esme whirled around to catch it by surprise. There, on the second step, was a dark creature, a little larger than a cat, with razor sharp teeth, liquid green eyes and nasty, fleshy, pink pointed ears. The wind filled the moment of silence with a howl as it raced through the branches of the yew trees outside the house.

The creature made a yattering sound. It blinked and continued towards where Esme stood motionless by the dresser. She could see its claws now it had reached the top step. Long sharp claws protruding from scaly fingers, there was a tail too, also long and scaly. It moved slowly behind the creature, slithering over the rug like a snake. The creature opened its mouth and yattered again. Esme wondered if there were more of them or this was the only one. It was looking directly at her and Esme held its gaze.

Esme opened her mouth as her body made ready for what was to come. The creature raised its arms, flexing its claws, she saw the muscles in its legs tensing as it prepared to spring towards her face. She placed the wine glass down.

A torrent of fast words streamed out of Esme’s mouth as she daggered her finger directly at the creature, which began to bubble and hiss, collapsing back into a small scaly heap.

“Darned fixties. Stupidest demons in Hell, you would think they could recognise evil when they saw it.” Esme fetched a dustpan and brush and swept up the dead fixtie. She took it out of the back door and dumped it unceremoniously into the trash can. Waving the dustpan in the air she said in a threatening tone:

“And if there are any more of you waiting, you can forget it. I may be retired but I’ll always be stronger than you.” She slammed the door closed and went to retrieve her glass of claret. Lots of glittering eyes hiding in the yew trees began to disappear.

The End

Copyright Suzanna Stanbury 2009 All Rights Reserved