The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Pumpkin Spice and Everyone’s… Not Nice
by Melissa R. Mendelson 

I warned my mother to beware The Tea Lady.  She was appearing in various towns.  She would show up at a random door, offering some tea from her tea kettle.  She did not have a car or any other vehicle.  She was seen walking around and walking barefoot, so what kind of tea was she offering people?  And people still accepted.  They drank her tea.  The horror stories followed.

“Oh, it’s fake,” my mother said.  “There’s no The Tea Lady.  It’s misinformation.”

“Did you hear the story about the woman and her cats?  She starved them, so they could eat her.  Alive.”

“Oh, that was a horrible story,” my mother said.  “But there’s no The Tea Lady.  She’s just a boogeyman, and don’t tell me that he was real.”

“He?”  My mother did not find me amusing.  “The Tea Lady could be a bogeywoman,” but that didn’t sound right.

To make things worse, my job was sending me up to Albany for two days for a random training.  They didn’t give me any notice.  Just a “You’re going.”

“Now, Mom.  Dad’s away on business, and I’ll be gone for two days.  Do not open the front door for anyone not even a deliveryman or woman.  No one.  Don’t open the front door.”

“Okay.  Okay.”  I knew she was humoring me.  “But I would like some tea.”

“That’s not funny,” and she gave me a smile, one that could end almost all arguments.

“Go on your trip.  I will be here when you get back,” my mother said.

Two days later.  The front door was closed, but it was not locked.  That bothered me, but what was really troublesome was that my mother was not answering her cell and the house phone.  I must have rung it several times.  No answer.

“Mom?  Mom, are you here?”  I stepped into the house.  An odor struck me in the face.  It was faint, but it smelled familiar.  It smelled like…. Pumpkin Spice.

“Here.”  Her voice jingled like a bell coming from down the hall.

“Mom, are you making something?  Pumpkin Pie?”

The kitchen was dark.  The dishes were left in the sink.  The fridge door half open.  That was not like my mother at all.

“Mom?”

“Here.”  That same eerie sound.  “Here.”

I glanced over at the kitchen knives.  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said to myself.  “The Tea Lady’s not real.  She wasn’t here,” but that smell got stronger as I approached the family room.  “Mom?”  I stepped into the room.

The couch faced the television set.  The screen had nothing but static.  Smoke drifted up into the air.  Her hair looked like it was on fire.

“Mom?”

My mother sat on the couch like a porcelain doll, but her face was green.  Her eyes sparked orange.  Two amber teardrops decorated each side of her face.  She stunk of pumpkin spice.

“Here.”  She looked at me, and I cringed.  “Would you like some tea?”

She smiled that smile, the one that could end almost all arguments.  The smile stretched across her face.  Her teeth dropped to the floor, her mouth now full of yellow, jagged fangs.  She smiled again, the last smile that I would ever see.

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Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.

About Author Melissa R. Mendelson:

Melissa R. Mendelson is the author of the Sci-Fi Novella, Waken.  She also has a prose poetry collection called, This Will Remain With Us published by Wild Ink Publishing.  Her short story collections, Better Off Here, Stories Written Along COVID Walls, and Name’s Keeper can be found on Amazon/Amazon Kindle.

If you’d like to learn more about Melissa, you can visit her accounts here: www.MelissaMendelson.com