The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
“It’s gonna need a lotta upkeep,” the realtor warned. Most had run away by now.
“Seems to be in pretty good shape. Though I’ll definitely be making some additions.” She walked through the lounge, pausing to perch on a lush, but dusty chair. The middle-aged man tried to keep from cringing as she made herself at home, practically prancing from the web-covered planter to the end tables so she could click on the lamps. “Very homey, isn’t it?”
“If you say so,” he mumbled. There was something about her enthusiasm that was unsettling, even if she did have money and charisma. “You say you’re hoping to reopen as an inn?”
“Of course. It’s perfect, after all. Can’t see why it went bust in the first place.”
“People these days like modern places.” He should have been pushing harder, but something in her face unnerved him.
“Not my kind of people.” Her lips quirked up. “It’s perfect for a themed mysterious mansion sort of vibe.”
“Ah, events then? Like murder mysteries?” He relaxed a bit; she was likely an actor.
“The best murders usually are.” She grinned. “That’s a joke, by the way. Does this fireplace work?”
He was being silly. Make the sale, stupid! “Not that one, but there are some others that do. That’s mostly for décor, it’s hollow behind it.”
She grinned and the lamplight cast strange shadows on her face. “Lovely.”
Small talk. Make small talk! “You said your relatives used to run hotels? You’re a Hilton?”
“Close, but no. I come from the Holmes’.”
“Like the detective?”
Another smile, but this one was calm and satisfied. “Something like that. I believe you have yourself a sale. You simply must be one of the first guests when I open. Now let’s sign those papers.”
Fiction © Copyright Selah Janel
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
More from Author Selah Janel:
Like many young men at the end of the 1800s, Bill signed on to work in a logging camp. The work is brutal, but it promised a fast paycheck with which he can start his life. Unfortunately, his role model is Big John. Not only is he the camp’s hero, but he’s known for spending his pay as fast as he makes it. On a cold Saturday night they enter Red’s Saloon to forget the work that takes the sweat and lives of so many men their age. Red may have plans for their whiskey money, but something else lurks in the shadows. It watches and badly wants a drink that has nothing to do with alcohol. Can Bill make it back out the shabby door, or does someone else have their own plans for his future?