2 comments/ 7367 views/ 10 favorites The Road to Grandma's House By: NikkiWrtr Allison stepped outside. The wind picked up her skirt and the drawstrings of her jacket. The weather was definitely changing. Brown and orange leaves were too wet to crunch under her shoes today, but it seemed only last week that she was shuffling across emerald lawns on her way to class. She drew up the jacket's zipper and plunged forward into the chilly breeze. Her backpack, though sagging heavily with the weight of over-priced textbooks, did help to block out the cold. She wished sincerely for time to stop by the coffee shop, get something hot in her hands and in her stomach, but she was already tardy to Biology. By late afternoon, Allison was on her fourth class of the day and nearly done for the week. As professor Collins took yet another tangent to his lecture on the Napoleonic Wars, her mind drifted to weekend plans. She took out her phone and tried to hold it out of sight while she sent a quick text to Victoria. Surely Vikki would have something exciting planned. The girl was crazy about the whole month of October, each day building up to the best holiday of the year. She put her phone away in time to hear Collins announce the date of their midterm exam. Then, she was free for a night and two whole days. Thankfully, campus was only fifteen minutes away from the house. Sure, sharing a house with three other people was a pain, but it beat having to stay in the dorms. Something about dining hall food and communal bathrooms made her shudder. Here, she at least had her own shower and access to a kitchen that was otherwise unused. The first thing she noticed as she crossed the threshold was the skunky odor of cheap pot. That would be Edison, she thought, who would never be able to get away with that in a dorm room. "Light some incense or something, will you," she complained as she passed the couch where the slouching figure of her roommate reached for a game controller. He didn't reply, lost in a world of reefer. She was halfway up the stairs when her phone buzzed in her back pocket. It was Victoria writing back. Apparently, she had spent the morning nursing a hangover instead of attending professor Middleton's lecture on the Critique of Pure Reason. Despite that, she was already at the bar/coffee shop the two of them frequented downtown, two pints into her end-of-week celebration. Allison envied her friend's ability to bounce back. She tugged a cord connected to the bare bulb inside of her closet and illuminated what looked like the aftermath of a miniature F-4 tornado. An overflowing laundry basket dominated the disaster scene, obscuring a mound of shoes, and spilling across the carpet to a pile of abused notebooks and loose papers. Narrowing her eyes at what portion of her wardrobe still hung clean on its hangers, she tried to decide what was warm enough for fall weather but not winter-weather-bulky. "Nice sweater," was the greeting she received when she arrived at Grimm's thirty minutes later. The comment had come from Kristen; Vikki and Allison's best friend. She couldn't tell if she was being complimented on the garment's stitch pattern, the way the kelly green knit set off her strawberry-red hair, or the plunging neckline that exposed an ample portion of her milky pale chest. She and Vikki often joked that Kristen was a triple threat. But a year or two older, their bespectacled friend had dropped out of college simply because she was far too talented to waste her time and money in school. A keen eye for fashion and a knack for turning a ball of yarn into haute couture had enabled her to publish two books by the age of 20. They were both bestsellers and her knitting blog was well-known in the crafting world for both its patterns and its eclectic take on LGBTQ issues. It wasn't an odd mix if you knew Kristen, who was suddenly distracted by the shapely backside of a blonde sorority girl across the room. "It's about time you arrived. Here, catch up," Victoria ordered as she slid a frosty pint of Guinness across the table. "You expect me to chug Guinness," asked Allison incredulously. "No, I expect you to do these shots and chug that Guinness." Right on cue, a waitress arrived with a tray full of whiskey shots. She clinked shot glasses with the trio and downed one of them herself before returning to the bar to pick up a round of pints for another table. An hour went by while they discussed what to do with their evening. Eventually, they settled on Allison's suggestion. The season's first haunted house had recently opened up in Libertyville and by all accounts, it was phenomenal. If they invited Lawrence, they could potentially chill at his place afterward and not have to make the drive back until morning. Since Kristen was now on her third pumpkin latte, they decided she would be the one to drive them the forty minutes to Lawrence's house. When he opened the door, they all shouted, "Trick-or-treat!" "Come back in about two weeks," he said, and pretended to shut the door in their faces. Unlike Allison, Lawrence had a house all to himself. It was one of the perks of being the only child of wealthy parents. His father was an artist, not well-known locally, but a big hit overseas. A painting he had sold last week had fetched nearly half a million dollars. Lawrence was following in his father's footsteps, as evidenced by the studio filled with easels and crumpled paint tubes right off of the den. The girls stood in the doorway between the two rooms and tried to get a peek at their friend's latest canvas while he put on his shoes and coat. Victoria was reaching out to pull the sheet off of one piece of artwork when Lawrence appeared out of nowhere and smacked her hand. "Don't you dare," he warned, "you know I never show my work before it's finished." Vikki stuck her tongue out at him, "Let's get out of here then. What are we waiting for?" It was only ten minutes before they pulled into the parking lot at the haunted house. The line was already an intimidating length, but they were committed. The four of them added themselves to the tail end of it and took turns playing Would You Rather until had inched their way up to the ticket booth. After they paid the entrance fee, a scruffy-looking teen doused in fake blood fastened them with neon wristbands and they went in. Just inside the doorway, they found a hall that steered them immediately to their right. Everything inside was painted black and the only light came in rapid pulses from a strobe in the ceiling. The group of friends drew closer together; Vikki and Kristen clutching Lawrence's coat sleeves and Allison bringing up the rear. They turned another corner. More of the same seizure-inducing lighting and bare walls. As they crept forward, expecting ghouls to jump out at them from the next corner up ahead, they were startled by the sound of a chainsaw revving behind them. Allison whipped her head around and was confronted by a maniacal clown rushing toward the group, waving the growling weapon over his head. All four of them screamed and dashed forward, making for the bend in the hallway. As they made their way around it, bandaged hands popped out of a panel in the wall and clawed the air in front of them. They all screamed in unison again and flattened themselves against the opposite wall so they could scoot by without being molested. After a few more twists and turns, they found that the confines of the narrow hallway opened out into a medium-sized room, also dim, but absent of flashing lights. There were two lounge chairs inside and a rectangular rug of indeterminate color laid between them on the floor. The only discernible means of egress appeared to be a set of elevator doors, next to which stood the figure of a man in a bellhop uniform. The only light source was directly over it, forcing its face into a grotesque contrast of pitch and glare. Lawrence lead the tentative creep toward the bellhop figure, which was perfectly still and silent. As the four friends were wondering if they were approaching a mannequin, it snapped to life. "Greetings, guests, and welcome to The Charles Perault Hotel! If you'll step right this way." He pressed a button mounted to the wall and the elevator doors slid open. Allison, Kristen, Victoria, and Lawrence all looked at one another. They joined hands and bravely stepped past the doors onto a shifting metal platform. The bellhop joined them and pressed another button that prompted the elevator to close. Underneath them, the floor began to vibrate and sway. A glow peeking through the crack between the doors moved up from the ground to the ceiling. Then another followed. It appeared that they were headed down. "It's been some time since we had visitors to our fine establishment. Ever since the murders, business hasn't been the same," mused the uniformed stranger. "Shame they never caught that maniac. Don't worry though, the hotel is perfectly safe. We've hired extra security." As he finished his comment, the vibrations underneath them stopped. The bellhop wrinkled his brow, "that's strange, this isn't the right floor." He punched at the control buttons. Even though the cluster of friends knew it was an act, three of the four of them nearly wet themselves when the elevator slid open to reveal an axe-wielding hulk who roared at them from behind a silicon mask. Behind them, another set of doors they hadn't noticed before swung apart and they turned to escape through them. Panicked though they were, they were unable to run, because the floor of the newly-revealed hallway was strewn with what looked like body parts. Allison peered down as she cautiously stepped over a severed torso. It wore a khaki shirt with a patch sewn onto the shoulder. The patch read, Atlas Security Systems. She was afraid that one of the bloody limbs would spring up and coil around her ankles. About halfway along the gruesome corridor, she peeked forward in time to see a pair of double doors swing shut behind her friends. "Wait up," she pleaded, but they didn't look back. Intending to gauge her chances of outrunning the madman from the elevator, she turned her head, only to discover that the rear doors were shut once more. Alone, she tried to fight the rising panic in her chest. "It's not real," the voice in her head reminded her. She filled her lungs with air, held her breath, and then let it rush out again. At last, Allison had picked her way through the gore to the exit where she had last seen Victoria, Lawrence, and Kristen. She forced the doors aside to find herself in an entirely new setting. It was a forest, or made to look like one at any rate. Several plyboard cutouts had been set up, shaped and painted to resemble trees. A blacklight made them glow in unnatural hues. Between the trees, here and there, mirrors had been placed, which lent the forest a depth it did not possess. This room was cooler than the others and nearly silent. Allison could no longer hear the muffled shrieks of the haunted attraction's other patrons. She took a few uncertain steps, thinking she may have glimpsed the way forward. Instead of an exit, she ran into a polished pane of glass. Maybe by skirting the edge, she hoped, she would encounter an opening in the maze. As she crept along, wondering how her friends could abandon her, she began to feel as if she were being watched. The mirrors around her revealed nothing but her own anxious face. "Lost, little girl?" It was only a whisper, so subtle she wasn't positive she had heard it at all. The voice was accompanied by a light breeze, almost as negligible. She stopped in her tracks and listened closely to the shifting air around her. The only sound her ears picked up was the pounding of her own heart. It's my imagination, it's the adrenaline, she tried to convince herself and resumed the task of picking her way through the false trees and reflections. At last, there was an opening. She stepped through the vacant space and found more two-dimensional woodland. Was this the way out at last, or merely another trick? Trusting her hands more than her eyes, Allison felt along the wall, alternately brushing course boards and icy reflections with her fingertips. "You're getting warmer." That time, she knew it wasn't her paranoid imaginings. Her feet suddenly refused to obey, frozen in place. Fine hairs rose on the nape of her neck. There was someone behind her. She checked her reflection, but there was a blind spot the mirrors could not reach. Part of her wanted to turn around, confront the shadows, and the other part wanted to dash screaming in all directions. She forced one foot forward, and then the other, shaking, eventually followed. In this fashion, she steadily progressed, until, at last, a red neon sign that proclaimed, "EXIT" revealed itself and she walked out into a busy parking lot and the sudden cacophony of a crowd. Kristen, Victoria, and Lawrence were waiting a few yards away. Their anxious faces relaxed when they made eye contact with Allison. She walked over to them, having forgotten for the moment that they had left her inside to fend for herself. The sound of that eerie voice lingered in her mind. In from the cold, cradling mugs of cocoa, and huddling up under afghans in Lawrence's house, the small group of friends teased one another. "You should have seen your face," Vikki managed, between fits of laughter, "when that guy with the axe showed up." She was pointing a mocking finger at Lawrence, eyes watering. "Me? You nearly fell flat on your face trying to get out of the elevator," Lawrence retorted. Allison recounted her experience in the forest room. Nobody else had heard strange whispers on their way through. "To be honest," Vikki confessed, "I got out of there as fast as I could. That place scared the crap out of me." That prompted Kristen to join in, poking fun at Victoria for being such a sissy. Eventually, the mutual harassment subsided and one by one, they dropped off to sleep. ........................... In the morning, Allison staggered groggily out of the guest room, drawn by the aroma of fresh coffee. She sunk into the couch in the den, next to Kristen, who was busy with a tangle of yarn. "Whatcha making," she asked her friend, as she accepted a fresh cup of cappuccino from Lawrence. "Mmfrfr," was the response, until the girl took the stitch markers out of her mouth. "A sweater." It was amazing to Allison, how someone could turn a ball of string into something wearable, warm, and comfortable. That was a talent she certainly did not possess. Her creative talent manifested in other ways, like baking. She often boasted that she had never in her life burnt a sheet of cookies and there was more than one student organization at school who came to her to supply their bake sales. Her plan for the afternoon, in fact, was to spend most of the day in the kitchen, working up a new batch of goodies. That was, of course, assuming that Vikki ever got up. When her friend finally joined the rest of them for bagels, Kristen's project was far enough along that nobody had to ask what it was going to be. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Sleeping Beauty." Lawrence topped off a cup of espresso with foam and handed it to Victoria. "Hey, don't blame me," was Vikki's grouchy response. "Allison kept me up all night, thrashing around." "What?" Allison was incredulous. "I'm usually a sound sleeper." "Not last night." Allison tried to remember the night before. She had finished her cocoa, said goodnight to Lawrence, and went to join Vikki in the guest room. As soon as she began to wonder if she'd had any disturbing dreams, a feeling of dread washed over her. No details came to mind, but she was sure her dreams were to blame for any wild behavior she had exhibited in her sleep. After Kristen dropped her off at home, Allison make a b-line for the shower. Once she had dressed and finished blow-drying her hair, she went downstairs to started baking. Her t-shirt and half of her jeans were coated with flour when Becca entered the room. "More cookies," inquired her roommate with the sunny disposition. "Yeah. These are almond thumbprints with apricot preserves." "Sounds yummy! Any chance there'll be some left?" Allison chuckled, "I'll try to leave some, but you're going to have to get to them before Edison does." After all of the cookies had been pulled from the oven, and cooled to room temperature, they were packed into a tin for her grandmother. It was Allison's routine every Saturday to bring gifts to the old woman, who was housebound. Each week, she packed up a fresh batch of cookies and whatever else she could find to please her grandma. Once she had brought a pair of mittens contributed by Kristen, another time there were blueberries from the farmer's market, and this week's present was a bottle of perfume called Délicieuse. It was grandma's favorite fragrance and it reminded Allison of gingerbread; sweet and spicy. She had gotten off to a later start than she had hoped, due to Victoria's lazy morning. By the time Allison had packed up her car and pulled out of the driveway, it was nearly dusk. A half hour later, she pulled off of the road and onto the stretch of gravel that functioned as her grandmother's parking lot. Although a dirt road existed that lead the rest of the way through the woods and up to the house, it was too pitted and uneven for Allison's small car to conquer. Nothing but her dad's heavy-duty truck could make that drive. She walked around to the passenger side of her car and removed the bag full of cookies and perfume. Twilight was in full effect and she chastised herself for not bringing a flashlight with her. Just past the last turn before her grandmother's house came into view, Allison stumbled. Her foot went into a pothole and she pitched forward, spilling the bag of goodies. She saw moonlight sparkle off of the glass bottle of perfume, as it rolled off of the road and down the slope into the trees. Allison cursed. Now she was going to have to leave the road and venture into the forest, which her grandma had cautioned her never to do, especially in the dark. Trappers had used the forest a long time ago and some of their rusty equipment still lay scattered around, waiting to snap shut on unsuspecting ankles. She put the tin of cookies back into the bag and left it on the road as she stepped into the underbrush. Taking slow steps, being careful not to slide, Allison made her way down the slope, trying to spot the small bottle. Then, she remembered that her phone had a flashlight function. Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled the phone out to check its battery life. The indicator was in the red and tiny numbers on the display told her that she had a mere ten percent before the phone would become a useless brick. It had better not take long to find the perfume. Using the narrow beam pointed at the forest floor, she searched among the leaf litter and debris. It can't have gone very far, Allison was thinking, when she heard rustling close by. She straightened her spine and maneuvered the phone so that its light was cast in front of her, illuminating the bark of the trees. Slowly, Allison rotated to her right, scanning the darkness for what she suspected was a deer or a large raccoon. Suddenly, a figure appeared in her field of view, tall with square shoulders. The light hit its face and two shiny eyes reflected it back. She started and dropped her phone. "Have you lost something, my dear," inquired the dark figure, in a deep but playful tone. It was a voice Allison recognized, from a scene not unlike this one. "W-what," the girl stammered, "what are you doing here?" "Me? Why, I live here of course. What are you doing here, little girl?" "Who are you?" "Now, now. Play fair. I've answered one of your questions and now you must answer one of mine." The Road to Grandma's House "I dropped something, by the road. I think it rolled down here," she managed. "It so happens that I've found something. Something besides yourself, I mean." Allison, fearing that her phone would lose its light soon, knelt down to retrieve it. When she stood up again, the figure had moved remarkably closer. It was holding something small and round that reflected the moonlight. "Is that - I mean, I lost a bottle of perfume." "You're in luck, my dear," said the figure, "because that is the object I have found." She used her phone again, this time pointed at the object. It was, indeed, the gift she had brought for her grandmother. The figure held it out toward her, but not close enough for her to grab. She stepped forward carefully and reached for the bottle. As she was closing in, her light caught the figure's face again and the eyes shone eerily back at her. This time, she didn't drop her phone, but she did stop moving. "Y-you - you have big eyes," was all she could get out. "Yes, my dear. They help me to find my way in the darkness." As if it had heard their conversation, Allison's phone suddenly went dead. She was plunged into inky blackness. The stars overhead were obscured by the tree tops. Although the moon shone through a clearing several meters away, it was a crescent and its light was weak. Frozen to the spot, Allison held her breath, listening. Against the backdrop of blood rushing in her ears, she could hear the stranger approaching and she forced herself to take a step back. As soon as her toe made contact with the ground behind her, it seemed to give way and she found herself stumbling, gravity pulling her off of her feet. But before she could hit the cold, leafy ground below her, strong arms wrapped around her body and caught her in mid air. "The forest is a dangerous place at night," he whispered. She could feel his hot breath on her ear. Pressed against his chest, in his firm grip, she could barely breathe. But, to help herself regain balance, she wrapped her arms around him and adjusted her legs so that they supported her weight once again. He still didn't let go. His body was firm and his skin was hot. His face was still close to hers. She felt his breath again, a few inches away from her collarbone. "Let me help you home, sweet girl." Lips brushed against her skin slightly, softly, which gave her goosebumps. She pressed the palms of her hands against his chest, wanting to push him away but not finding the strength. Her knees threatened to give way beneath her. Is that silk underneath my fingers, a stray thought asked. It was soft and thin, allowing her to feel his muscles through the fabric. He pressed his lips to her throat. His arms held firm, iron against her back. "M-my grandmother. S-she must be wondering where I am." He stopped and eased his hold on her. "Then we had better get you to grandmother's house, hadn't we?" He sounded only mildly regretful. Allison expected him to release her, to walk ahead of her into the forest so that she could follow. Instead, he knelt down and, pressing a forearm against the back of her knees, lifted her up, cradled against him. She was too surprised to react. But, reasoning that it was easier than stumbling along the ground, brambles scratching her ankles, she relaxed. Without his help, she might be lost out there all night, walking in circles. It wasn't long before she felt him climb the short slope to the road. He set her gently on her feet again and asked her which way they should go. Without the canopy cover, it was easier to see. Able now, to make out where the ruts and potholes in the packed dirt were, Allison managed to find where she'd left the bag with the cookies in it. She picked it up and remembered the perfume. It was still difficult to make out her companion's features. He was tall and slender with dark hair, but that was all that she could determine in the feeble light. She asked him to hand over the glass bottle. "But what if you drop it again, my dear? I think I'll keep it safe until I see you safely to the house." His response was mildly suspicious, but Allison didn't think there was much harm in letting him hold onto the perfume. She could simply get another bottle of it if he ran off. Besides, what would he want with a ladies' fragrance anyway? They walked together in the dim starlight for a while, neither of them speaking. She found herself wondering what would have happened amidst the trees if she hadn't stopped him. He could have easily overcome her back there, but he hadn't. He was helping her out of the woods and seeing her to safety like a gentleman. But, she was still afraid. He had come out of nowhere, it seemed. Moments later, the pair arrived at her grandmother's house. She knocked on the door. It was a while before anyone answered, the home's only occupant being somewhat slow on her feet. When the door opened, a hunched woman smiled at Allison and reached out to hug her. Then she noticed the second body in the doorway. "Oh, I see you've brought company," she eyed him suspiciously. "Yes, grandma. He helped me through the woods. I got lost." "And you are..." Allison's grandma deliberately trailed off. "You're neighbor, madam," he said, bowing slightly. "I believe this was meant for you." He opened his hand and offered the perfume. "Oh, and I brought your cookies, grandma." Her grandmother hadn't reached for the bottle. She was still looking him over. Allison took it from his hand and said, "Thank you so much for helping me find the way here. I trust you can find your way back on your own?" He nodded and said, "I hope we meet again soon. It has been a pleasure." He winked at her. She ushered the elderly woman inside and gently but firmly closed the door. She fastened the locks in place and waited until she heard footsteps head away from the house. Moving the curtains of the front window aside, she tried to catch another glimpse of him, but the road was empty. A shadow darted into the trees. .............................. When she awoke the next day, rain was coming down heavily outside. Her grandmother put a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her and boiled some water for tea. She ate without speaking, enjoying the sound of the weather outside. She was anticipating a chilly walk back to her car. When the tea was ready, Allison took her empty dish to the sink and her grandma opened the tin of cookies. They nibbled and sipped while they concentrated on a game of bridge, which the older woman had taught her granddaughter to play when she was still in middle school. "Are you feeling alright this morning," she asked her. "I'm kinda sleepy still, but once this tea kicks in, I'll be fine. Why do you ask, grandma?" "You were raising quite a fuss last night. Startled me awake on more than one occasion." "Oh gosh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you, but I don't remember getting up at all." Allison sensed a trend. In the early afternoon, Allison started to collect her things and get ready to leave. She peered out of the window to gauge the storm and remembered the shadow from the night before. A chill came over her that had nothing to do with the drizzle. Her grandma noticed her shiver and mistook it as a reaction to the weather. "Didn't you bring your coat, sweetheart?" Allison shook her head. The woman gave her a disapproving look. "Here, you can borrow my old rain coat," she insisted, pulling a scarlet garment from the hall closet. It was more like a cape than a jacket and it came with a hood. It wasn't the kind of thing Allison usually wore, but out of respect for her grandmother and a sincere desire not to get soaked, she took it from its hangar and put it on. "There you go. Look how nice that fits. It even goes with your hair." Not quite, thought the younger of the two. It would have matched Kristen's fire-engine dye job better than her own natural curls. She bent to kiss her grandmother goodbye, picked up her belongings, and ducked out into the rain. There were no dark strangers along the way to her car. ........................................ The next week was a busy one. Allison and Kristen spent most of their time in the library, studying for their midterm exams, sometimes alone, sometimes separately. Neither one of them saw Kristen at all or had given any thought to costumes. Even though Allison generally kept up well with her studies, it was a grueling five days of flashcards and highlighters, which then spilled over into the weekend. It was nearly five o'clock on Sunday when she received a text from Kristen. She unlocked her phone and found a photo of her friend dressed as La Muerte, candle-trimmed hat and all. "Oh my god. That looks great," she sent back, "I haven't even decided on a costume yet." "Get a move on. Halloween is next weekend already." She rubbed her eyes and put her books into her backpack. At this point, her brain wasn't going to absorb much more. It was stuffed with cell structures and DNA diagrams, dates of world wars, iambic pentameter, and Carl Jung quotes. If she studied any more, her head would explode. Allison got into her car and met Kristen at the craft store. "I don't have time to make anything. Let's go to that costume store on the east side." Kristen gave her such a look as to banish the thought from her mind. "Okay, sorry. But, you're going to have to help me." They hunted through the store for an hour or longer, sending snapshots to Victoria for opinions. After they left the craft store, a bag of random supplies in hand, they went and bought bags full of candy and plastic spider rings. It was a nice way to ease the anxiety of pre-exam jitters. Later, they met up with Vikki and their favorite hangout. She had brought along her costume to show them. Allison couldn't make heads or tails of it at first. In the bag Vikki had, there was a black beard, a pair of horns, and a prosthetic tongue. "I give up," she confessed. "Krampus! It's only the most terrifying thing ever." Vikki sounded exasperated. "Okay. Damn. Excuse me for not recognizing your Krampus thing." "No, it's okay. I'm just freaking out about tomorrow. I wish we were done with school already." For three days in a row, Allison woke up, sharpened her pencils, and went in to school to face bubble sheets and pages of questions. Two of her exams were on Monday, back-to-back. Monday night was spent studying for Tuesday and Tuesday night was eaten up with studying for Wednesday. On Wednesday night, she went home and collapsed with relief. That left her with only two days to build a costume. Her roommates had decorated the front of the house and the yard without her. The only things left to do besides finding something to wear were to carve her pumpkin and buy candy. When Friday evening came around, Allison and Kristen took their supplies to Victoria's house. Clearly, Vikki was over the moon. Halloween night was practically the only time Allison could use the word "giddy" to describe her friend. She lived with her parents, who fully encouraged their daughter's obsession with the holiday. The outside of their home was done up with tombstones in the yard, giant spiders on the roof, and ghostly projections that floated eerily across the garage door. Allison's younger twin brothers were already hopped up on sugar and were chasing each other through the house like little maniacs. "I've got a surprise for you," Vikki told them, excited for them to put their stuff down and follow her. The other two girls looked at one another. Surprise? It could be anything. Whatever it was, they suspected something sinister because Victoria was leading them toward the cellar stairs. Allison threw a glance toward the living room to make sure the twins were still in there and not waiting to leap out and scare them. Vikki opened the creaking door and her two friends followed her down the wooden staircase. Something large stood in the middle of the room, with a tarp draped over it. Kristen seemed to figure out the puzzle before Allison could. Her shoulders relaxed and there was a smile on her face. "Come on, come on," Vikki was urging Allison the rest of the way down the stairs. "It's not going to jump out at me, is it?" "No, silly. Trust me for once." When the three of them were gathered around the lumpy mystery object, Vikki got ready for the big reveal. She put her hand over the tarp and slowly pinched the material between her fingers. Then, with a flourish, she whipped off the covering and threw it aside. "Ta da!" "Beer? Jesus, I thought you were going to butcher us and bury us under the floorboards." "It's not any old beer, it's Dad's new pumpkin brew!" Hearing descending footsteps near the doorway, the group of girls turned to see a mature, but dashing man approaching. Allison had always harbored a secret lust for her friend's father, not that she would ever dare do anything about it. The man kept himself in excellent shape. Hauling kegs around all day apparently gave one gorgeous biceps. "Hi ladies." His deep voice reminded Allison of a cat's purr. The luscious man went on to explain that, even though the brewery's pumpkin batch had been released the month prior, what the young women had before them was a special casked variety, heavy on the nutmeg, but with a hint of ginger as well. Allison didn't really understand much about beer, but she was happy to drink it, especially when it was introduced by Vikki's dad. Kristen, on the other hand, immune to the man's alluring features, was asking intelligent-sounding questions. The mini beer seminar having concluded, everyone took a bottle, and they all walked back up the stairs. It would have been a tragedy that Victoria's parents didn't let her go out on Halloween night, if they didn't throw such a good party themselves. The three friends collected their supplies and headed up to Vikki's room to get their costumes on before the guests started to arrive. Taking turns at the mirror, they applied makeup, wigs, and special effects. Kristen's hat was enormous and it was a wonder it could support the series of battery-powered candles positioned on its brim. Allison felt significantly under-dressed in her blue dress and little white apron. She had braided her hair into pigtails and her makeup was subtle. Meanwhile, Vikki was terrifying in the beard and prosthetics that took an hour to put on. Her goat horns would have weighed a ton if they hadn't been made of hollow plastic. Below them, the trio could hear the ring of the doorbell become increasingly frequent and knew that the games would start soon. Allison wanted to get downstairs and get something into her stomach before she had a second beer. There was no shortage of food either. The kitchen counter-tops and dining table positively overflowed with finger food; both items the guests had brought and those the hosts had made themselves. She filled a plate and cast her gaze around the house to see if she could recognize Lawrence, who had promised to drive up from Libertyville for the festivities. It took fifteen minutes or so to spot him, and it was Kristen who pointed him out. Their friend's imitation of Slender Man would have been chilling if the mask hadn't been pulled up so its wearer could shove a cracker in his mouth. After the majority of the expected guests had arrived, the games began. There were traditional bobbing-for-apples games for the kids and more cerebral challenges for the adults. Allison, Kristen, Vikki, Lawrence, and several more of their friends had congregated in their own little corner and tried to keep their crude comments from broadcasting to the rest of the room. After Vikki's brothers had gone to bed and the parents of the other children had taken them home, everyone who was left joined in a big game of cards. Allison hadn't had so much fun in months. She almost forgot entirely about the stranger from the forest. .................................... The following morning, when she left Victoria's house, she took a few bottles of the special pumpkin brew with her. When she accepted them from Vikki's dad, she caught him looking at her chest. He was quick to correct himself and offered his smile as an apology. She blushed, hoping her friend wasn't watching the exchange. Why does he have to be my best friend's dad, the voice inside her head groaned. Car packed, she hugged her friends farewell and drove home to get cleaned up and start on her weekly batch of cookies. This time, she planned to enlist Becca's help to make things go faster. "What do you want me to do?" Becca accepted her role as helper with her usual perky enthusiasm. "When I pull these out of the oven, you roll them around in the sugar. Be careful though, they're going to be super hot." Allison used a spatula to remove the cookies and her roommate tumbled the steaming balls of cooked dough around and around, coating them with the powdery white sweetness. The girl singed the tips of most of her fingers in the process, but didn't complain much. This time, she was sure to get a portion of the results. The following morning, Allison rose early to pack, determined to avoid being caught in the dark again. She put the tin of cookies into her bag, and added the bottles of beer. This, along with a sack of her overnight things and a flashlight - as an added precaution - went into her car. She said goodbye to Becca, who was smiling at her from a face dotted with white sugar. The dozen or so treats that were left behind weren't going to last long. It was approaching noon when Allison pulled her car over onto the gravel. She looked around before getting out of the vehicle, paying particular attention to the forest edge. Nobody who wasn't speeding by in their own car was around. Feeling somewhat relieved, but still cautious, she emerged and gathered her belongings. As she walked, her ears picked up the songs of various birds, the whoosh of passing traffic, and, once or twice, the sound of hooves dashing through the underbrush. When her grandmother's house came into view, she relaxed and strode confidently to the door. Knock, knock, knock. Allison waited. Muffled footsteps approached from the other side, faster than she was expecting. The knob twisted, and, slowly, the door swung aside to reveal the tall, slender figure of someone familiar but not at all welcome. "What - what are you doing here," she stepped back a pace. "Such a wonderful surprise to see you again," came the dark stranger's reply. "Where's my grandmother," Allison demanded. "She's only gone out for a moment, I expect her back at any time." "She went out?" "Like I said, only for a moment. She went to pick mushrooms. There are some morels in the woods; such delicious treasures if you can find them." "My grandmother went to pick mushrooms. In the woods." Nothing about this story was making sense. Allison, suddenly full of courage, decided to investigate. What if her grandmother was tied up in the house somewhere or there was evidence of foul play? Her confidence boosted by the potential need for rescuing, she stepped over the threshold. Peering anxiously around, she detected nothing amiss. Her grandmother's "neighbor" closed the door behind her. A kettle on the stove started to whistle. "There now. You see, she's not here. Why don't we have some tea and sit?" He brushed past as he made his way gracefully across the room. His hands, which Allison noted were somewhat large for a person his size, curled around the kettle's handle and lifted it from the burner. The whistling calmed. He filled a teapot - which stood at the ready, full of dry tea - to the brim and closed the lid. "Let's let that steep for a bit. Join me in the living room?" It seemed to be the only way she was going to discover her grandmother's whereabouts. If she could get him talking, maybe he would let something slip. Or maybe he was telling the truth and grandma would come tottering through the entryway. She lead him into the next room and he followed, striding easily on his long legs. Instead of taking the upholstered chair opposite, he sat on the couch next to her. In the light of day, sitting so near him, she could make out his face much better than she'd be able to that dark night a couple of weeks ago. The Road to Grandma's House His face had graceful, narrow features that complimented his sleek frame; strong cheekbones, slender nose, and pointed chin. Allison remembered how his eyes had reflected in the dark. They looked normal now and actually quite beautiful. Deep blue irises gazed back at her and for a moment, she was lost in them. Blinking to break their spell, she tried looking someplace else, only to realize that her focus had dropped to his chest. Her fingers tingled with memory. Allison blushed. She could see the corners of his mouth turn up in a lopsided grin. Refocusing on his face, but avoiding his eyes, she tried to begin a conversation. "You said you lived here - n-nearby, I mean." "Yes, my dear, I did." "Do you have another cottage, like this one, or..." She couldn't find an intelligent way to end the sentence. "You are a curious girl, aren't you?" "Maybe. I mean...yes. Is that a problem?" "Not at all. I enjoy a young lady with interests, with a mind of her own." Allison watched his lips move and thought about them brushing against her skin again. She blushed afresh, suddenly awkward, bravado fading. Before she could come up with more banter to delay him with, he leaned in toward her and pressed his lips against hers. Startled, Allison stood up and backed toward the kitchen. With one fluid movement, he was on his feet and inches away from her again. "Forgive me, my dear. I didn't mean to frighten you." She said nothing and continued to withdraw from him. "It's only that I rarely meet such a beauty, especially this close to the forest." Speechless, she persisted in her backward motion until her bottom collided with the table. The china cups rattled in their saucers. He gracefully closed the distance between them. Bending slightly, he put his hands down on either side of her, steadying the furniture. His nose was now inches from hers and she held her breath. The blue pools of his eyes drew her in again. He shifted his body closer and she was suddenly very conscious of the protracted length of her skirt. When she was certain that he was leaning in for another kiss, he suddenly shifted direction. His face moved past hers and he pressed his lips instead to the delicate skin behind her ear. Unbidden, a sigh escaped Allison's lips. Ever so slowly, he wrapped his lithe arms around behind her, trapping her in his embrace. The heat emanating from his body was astounding. She had never felt a man so so warm and yet he wasn't sweating. His lips continued to caress her, migrating toward her jaw. They parted, and he drew her earlobe into his mouth. Her knees turned to jelly and started to tremble. Just as she was fearing she would topple to her knees, a sharp pain pricked her ear and she jolted. "Ouch!" She stood upright and touched her fingers to her head. They came away bloody. He leaned slightly away and grinned at her, eyes glinting. "It was but a taste," he said in defense. When he opened his mouth to speak, she glimpsed a pair of pointed incisors. "Well, you've got very sharp teeth," she complained. "The better to eat you with, my dear." Before she knew what was happening, he had snatched her off of her feet and sat her down on the tabletop. Forcing her legs apart with his shoulders, he used his pointed nose to lift the hem of her skirt. She felt his hot breath on her thighs. Her heart, which had skipped when he bit her, resumed its beating at a rigorous pace. The tip of his nose pressed against her underwear, right on the other side of her clitoris. His hands floated up and settled on her knees. Then, they crept up her thighs until the tips of his fingers hooked the elastic of her panties and he tugged them out from under her bottom. Slowly, the tip of his long tongue began to caress her. She moaned softly and fell back onto her elbows, tipping over a vase full of flowers. Water spilled across the tablecloth and dripped onto the floor. Moisture dripped from her body as well, and he eagerly lapped it up. Part of her wanted to demand he behave himself, but she was under his spell. What little resistance to him she had left, melted away. After a moment, he rose to his feet, drowning her in his eyes again. He bent over her and forced his tongue into her mouth. She accepted him and tasted her own juices on his lips. As their tongues intertwined, he pressed his body to hers. She felt him hard, still encased in fabric, against her bare vulva. As Allison wrapped her arms around his head, she rotated her hips forward, enticing him. Another sudden jolt of pain startled her. This time, it was her lip. "You're going to have to curb that biting habit of yours," she boldly demanded, adrenaline lending her bravado she did not normally posses. "Is that so," he practically laughed in response. He stepped away briefly and surveyed her body. Hunching forward again, he grabbed her strawberry curls in his claws and forced her upright. Her eyes widened, not knowing what to expect from the beast he had become. Deftly, he pawed her hip and spun her around. Once she was facing opposite, he used the same hand to unfasten his belt. She could hear the leather slide past the steel buckle, followed by the distinctive sound of a zipper. He held the back of her head and forced her to bend over the table's edge. Allison felt his smoldering flesh press against her ass. He withdrew slightly in order to maneuver himself. His hardened cock rubbed between her labia, seeking the proper opening and then, swift and hard, he plunged into her. Her leg muscles tightened for a moment and then relaxed. She tried to catch her breath, but he took it away with another forceful thrust. A feeble cry escaped her lips, inarticulate, all vowels. The wooden edge of the table ground into her hips. With each impact of his body against hers, Allison's own body temperature began to rise. She could feel pressure building up inside her, driving her near madness. Panting, he increased the pace of his thrusts until she could hear him grunting softly with the effort. There was something inside her about to burst, she felt it. She teetered on the precipice of orgasm, trying to hold it off as long as she could. There was still a part of her who kept whispering, this is wrong. It was a small voice, distant, echoing from far back in her consciousness. The voice was not enough to douse the fire that was slowly burning her alive. It was the pain of his jagged claws, raking across her pale, plump ass that finally broke the dam. She called out, loudly, as she came, drowning in ecstasy and the wash of chemicals released in her brain. Her thighs twitched and her knees buckled beneath her. He felt her tremble and her cum slathered his cock and dripped from his balls. He kept thrusting, slamming her between his pelvis and the furniture. Allison felt the pressure starting to build again, felt sweat begin to form on her brow. His panting became more earnest, his grunting more sincere. The erection throbbing inside her felt as if it was carved from breathing marble. She felt faint, dizzy, but she no longer protested. She was nearing another climax. He slid her body further up onto the table. Her grandmother's delicate china slid off and shattered against the floor. He followed her body forward, climbing up behind her. Slowing his pace, he withdrew until he had almost left her. Then, he slid deeper into her than he had been before, well-lubricated by her went and welcoming cunt. She felt his breath on the back of her neck. He kissed her shoulder gently while he slid in and out of her. He seemed to sense exactly what she needed to send her over the edge again. Parting his warm lips, he exposed the pointed teeth she had remarked on just moments ago and plunged them into her neck. Her body shuddered violently and his responded. In an explosive burst, he filled her with hot semen, an hair-raising howl issuing from his mouth as he came. They lay there, on the kitchen table, both of them panting, their bodies practically steaming. Broken porcelain glinted in the lamp's incandescent glow. He pulled himself out of her and rolled over beside her. She turned her body around and nestled against his shoulder. He turned his nose toward her and buried it in her soft curls. As her breathing slowed, she heard him quietly burp. As the air wafted toward her, she became aware of the combined aroma of sweet and spicy, just like gingerbread.