A seance with cocktail weenies? Why not?
My new short story "Dance With the Devil" has been unleashed in the Haunted Mansion Project: Year Two anthology! An excellent collection of stories from horror writers inspired by the Haunted Mansion Project, purchase your copies today! Paperback | Ebook | Kindle
“Get the lights, Betsy.” Marge needed her ambiance, she also needed a vodka martini but the chance of getting that with these gals dwindled with each serious look and dewy bosom attributed to the excitement of raising the dead. Marge suspected it was due more to the heat and lack of oxygen in the room than nervousness since Bernice hadn’t stopped smoking her Lucky Strikes after seeing that ad with Sophia Loren. Now the woman tramped around the room in low-cut gowns pretending to have an Italian accent.
“I weeell do eet.” Bernice purred. A long, tobacco-stained fingernail twirled the knob and the room faded into darkness as Betsy’s new dimmer switch activated. Feeling her way back to the Formica-topped kitchen table, she pretended to ignore the sounds of Betsy’s husband in the rumpus room listening to the game. “I am ready to meet the spirits of our dead ones.”
“Fabulous. Pass me a weenie before she gets wound up.” Eleanor had been to these séances before; she knew that when the medium got started, the hostess always forgot to pay attention to details – like grumbling stomachs. She’d better load up on the cream cheese-pimento dip while she was at it. Returning to the table with a plate loaded with snacks, she smoothed her orange and blue caftan over the metal arms of the chair. Averting her eyes from the dried apricot puree from the youngest boy’s supper on Betsy’s pink sweater set, she settled down to watch Marge go through the ritual of preparing the small kitchen for visitors from the netherworld.
You didn't think I'd play it straight horror, did you? ;)