Mark tried not to meet the seductive eyes. Chiselled face, blue overalls, burly frame, deep eyes. He wasn't far from the truth.Īmy pulled back the door slightly, and peered through the gap. When he knocked on the oak, he thought he was awakening a beast. Whatever was behind those doors, he thought, wasn't a pleasantry. Although soft and gentle, there was a hidden layer of malice, a severity that he had known only in his wife. He remembered the voice he had heard on the phone.
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It was the lair of an ice queen, he thought to himself, and a chill ran down his spine. It was a grand stone palace, with large doors and rustic window designs. There was but one house, and it was choked with furnishing, even on the outside. He was whistling because the street was gravely silent, and silence scared him. He was not whistling because he enjoyed it. He was not whistling because he had a catchy tune stapled to his mind. It was a telephone directory, open at a section entitled "Plumbing Services." She took out her phone and dialled. Now in the kitchen, she returned to the open book on the side counter. This thin woman wanted to eat, and the urge was so powerful that she had to leave the room simply to avoid surging into one of the gorge mountains. Enough confectionary to kill, she thought, but she had no intention of dying. Before her were three tables, piled high with assorted goodies. After all of the money, time and effort she had managed to construct a banquet large enough. Amy's ruby lips formed a small arch of excitement.
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The last tray of food was placed on the table.