Page 5 of Deadly Night
My phone pings with a new text.
Unknown:Should I call the fire department for you?
I glance around my kitchen and gulp.
Outside my kitchen window, I catch a glimpse of a dark figure at the edge of the woods.
I should be scared, and yet the thought that my mystery man is watching me excites me.
Unknown:you didn’t answer my question.
Hadley:Which one?
Unknown:What would you do if I chased you?
Hadley:I guess you’ll have to find out...
The text bubbles move and then stop.
I wait for a reply that doesn’t come.
Is it still considered ghosting if you don’t know who you’re talking to?
The scent of cinnamon, apples, and citrus permeates the air of my small kitchen, replacing the scent of melted plastic. It’s a true Christmas miracle. The simmer pot recipe I came across while late-night scrolling on my phone did the trick. I’d tried everything. The scented oil wall plug-ins. Air freshener. Leaving my windows open. Burning matches. Lighting candles. Finally, I can breathe again and focus on pretending that I love Christmas and am not the town’s Grinch.
I probably am.
Who could blame me after being accused of being an axe-wielding psychopath?
I’m one of the only homes without an inflatable in my yard. Honestly, they creep me out. I have this nightmare that someone is actually inside of them waiting to jump out and scare the living daylights out of me.
I don’t even own a single strand of lights, and Christmas is less than a week away.
I couldn’t have less holiday spirit if someone paid me to.
Since my Meemaw retired to Florida with her boyfriend George, leaving me her house, I’ve been lonely. “I’ve spent the past fifty years in this house, I don’t plan on dying in it.” Those were her parting words as she slid into the passenger side of George’s Buick Regal wearing oversized sunglasses and a big floppy hat. She looked ridiculous and utterly happy. As much as I didn’t want my only family to leave, I’m thrilled for her.
I should have gone with them, but this is my home, and despite the nasty murder business of four years ago, I love living here.
My cell phone chirps, alerting me to a new text message. I turn the stove burner off and grab my phone on my way upstairs to my bedroom. Technically, it was my Meemaw’s room, but when she moved out, I took over her room. It’s the larger of the two up here. I turned my old room into my closet, and the spare room downstairs is now my library.
It’s my favorite room in my house. Selling the furniture and whatnots that Meemaw no longer wanted and didn’t match my style fetched me enough profit for my floor to ceiling bookcases. The room is every dark romance girly’s dream. I spend more time there than I do in any other room in the place.
My phone chirps again with another new text message. Both are from Sydney, my bestie.
Sydney:On my way.
Sydney: Do you need me to stop for anything…
I type out my one-word response.
Hadley:No.
Sydney:This costume is ah-mazin!!
Oh, God.
I groan and flop back onto my quilted blanket.
