Nearly a fortnight has passed since
an outcry of shrill cackles chilled my spine. As the full moon rose, I followed
the raucous laughter to what I thought was an abandoned arcade, where, lit by the
Hunter’s Sanguine Moon, dozens of women swept from the entrance. The door,
heavy with its burden of criss-crossing boards, creaked in harmony with their
voices. Dressed in whirls of dark fabric, only their faces, pale as lilies, and
glittering eyes reflected the blood-red light. After the last was swallowed by
the night, the door remained ajar, tempting me…almost calling to my curiosity.
Too timid to investigate the shop
in darkness, I returned in the next morning to find it still open…still
waiting. With sweat beading across my brow, I approached with care, and hearing
no noise and seeing no sign of movement, I tiptoed around the cracked door,
taking care not to touch anything. Inside, a bare bulb shone above a table
littered with animal bones. I picked up a long bone, and the skull resting on
the table gnashed its teeth and snarled, “The curious shall be visited on All
Hallow’s Eve.” The bone in my hand clattered onto the table, and I bolted through the door to find nightfall
had descended, and a woman’s laugh winged past me on a chill breeze.
Tea Leaf Tales is a series of original ten-sentence short stories by Marsha A. Moore, relating to photos/scenes that resonate with her.
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