At midnight, a vague sense of unease prompted her to investigate the dark hallway. But as the new governess passed the twins’ room, she heard voices speaking an unfamiliar tongue.
Looking through the keyhole, she froze, unbelieving. The twins were holding hands, walking backwards, and chanting, in unison, strange utterances. There were indiscernible chalk markings on the floor. Their stark, white nightshirts were streaked with something dark and red; their clasped hands covered in it.
Their new pet, their father’s gift from abroad, lay on the floor, unmoving.
She gasped. The twins’ attention snapped to the keyhole…
© Copyright 2016 Sirius Bonner. All rights reserved.
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Sirius Bonner: Professional Oppression Fighter, Mom, Writer, Knitter, Badass