When the Lights Go Out: Ink Slingers' Halloween Anthology

When the Lights Go Out

An Anthology

Presented by

The Ink Slinger’s League

First Smashwords Edition 2015

Copyright 2015 Ink Slinger’s League

All works copyright of their respective authors.

Compiled by Joleene Naylor

Published by Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover image courtesy of rbv, egitarrist, chones and canstockphoto

Cover by Joleene Naylor

**********

Table of Contents

Intro

Midnight Summons by Tricia Drammeh

An Arm and a Leg by Adan Ramie

Loving Reflections by LC Cooper

The Blue Die by Bonnie Mutchler

Unforgotten by Joleene Naylor

The Midnight Ritual by Carolyn Cason

Behind the Door by CG Coppola

The Midnight Zone by Anne Franklin

Legends and Lies by Jason Gilbert

The Return of the Crusader by Barbara Tarn

Short Cut by Roger Lawrence

Reapers by Nikki Hess

Tigress Lizzy by Rami Ungar

Through the Willow Tree by DM Yates

Halloween’s Perfect Storm by LC Cooper

Afterglow by Russ Towne

The Body by the Tree by Yawatta Hosby

Becoming Celine by Maegan Provan

The Mirror by Carolyn Cason

The Cat and the Coin by Sean Morain

The Leprechaun’s Trick or Treat by Terry Compton

Malediction by Roger Lawrence

Beldren by Joleene Naylor

Heart’s Lust by LC Cooper

Night of the Loving Kitty by Christopher Mitchell

Thank You

Introduction

The jack-o-lantern is Halloween’s most well-known symbol, and has been used by humans for over ten-thousand years. While its origins are unclear, the beliefs about it, like much about Halloween, have remained unchanged for much of that time. Specifically, the jack-o-lantern is a ward against spirits, fairies, and the walking dead, the light within keeping away the denizens of the night from people’s homes. If the light was extinguished before it went out naturally, then the spirits would gain access to the home, and wreak their unholy havoc on anyone inside.

We modern folk like to think that, in an age of science and the Internet and the Kardashians that we are past such beliefs in the supernatural and the need to ward against them. We also like to think that Halloween is just all fun and games. But others, especially horror writers, know better. There’s a reason that Halloween, despite several name changes and a few appropriations by different cultures and religions over the years, has not lost or changed its function. The holiday, now as in the days when the Celts called the end of October Samhain and when early Christians called it All Hallows Eve: that there is much in the world that we don’t know, things that at best will only play small tricks on or even act benignly towards us, and at the worst will make us their playthings or even their next meals. The traditions of Halloween itself—pumpkin carving, trick or treating, dressing up—are all tools to teach us how to avoid these malevolent beings that exist just beyond the edges of our safe, everyday lives.

Within the pages of this anthology, the writers of these stories have brought forth their own dark tales, inspired perhaps by the inner workings of their imaginations or maybe whispered to them by beings once worshipped and feared as gods, to remind us what we often forget the rest of the year. From the forces of Nature manifested as cats, trees and storms, to the ghosts, revenants, and reapers, the traditional sons and daughters of the night, and even things that defy our attempts to categorize them, there is something here to terrify every reader.

So read on and put big candles in the jack-o-lanterns outside your house while you’re at it. Because even though you may think you’re alone while all the lights are on, if you disregard the tales within and the lights in your pumpkins are extinguished too soon, you may not find yourself so alone when the lights go out.

-Rami Ungar

Midnight Summons

(A Dark Summons Short Story)

By Tricia Drammeh

The phone rang once. Twice. Karen drummed her fingers on the table, hoping her sister wouldn’t be furious to be awakened so late at night.

Claire’s voice was groggy when she answered. Karen?

Sorry to wake you, Honey, but I’ve got a case.

Not again. Annoyance sizzled across the phone line. I thought you were going to remove that silly advertisement.

Well, I didn’t. Emergency fees are my bread and butter, and I could really use the money.

I told you I’d help you with Jared’s braces.

I know. And I appreciate it. But it’s not just that. I’ve got bills to pay. I’m going to need new tires…

Okay, okay. What time is it?

Just past midnight.

Claire let out an exasperated sigh. I suppose Jared’s asleep. Hold tight. I’ll be there in a few.

Are you sure? I can bring him over there.

Absolutely not. Let the boy sleep.

Thanks, Claire.

Just promise you’ll be careful. It’s not the ghosts you have to watch out for. Humans are far more dangerous.

I’ll be careful. See you soon.

Karen hung up the phone and rushed to get her supplies in order. Her new clients were waiting.

***

Karen stood in the strangers’ driveway, her eyes closed. She tried to get a feel for the atmosphere, but the energy here was cloudy. Of course, a haunting could do that to a place.

She looked up at the two-story home. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. There were a dozen houses just like it scattered throughout the subdivision. This structure wasn’t any more run down than the rest, with its peeling paint, skeletal shrubbery, and brown lawn. A chilly wind blew dead leaves across a cracked driveway that desperately needed repaving.

Karen strode briskly to the front door and knocked. For a moment, she considered turning around, getting back in her car, and going home. She didn’t know the owners of this house. She had no obligation to help these people at all, but she wasn’t one to back away from a case. Her advertisement claimed she accepted any case big or small. That no job was too difficult for her to handle. And she accepted emergency cases after hours, for an extra fee of course.

It was the promise of an extra fee that kept her standing on that doorstep. After Karen’s and Claire’s sister died a few years ago, Karen had taken guardianship of her nephew Jared. He was a preteen now, and it was becoming increasingly expensive to feed and clothe him, so much so that Karen had considered getting a real job. Mediums could make a decent living, but the pay was unpredictable. Until Jared was older, she needed more stability. Right now, she needed the money this late night case would provide.

She rapped the door again, wondering what was taking so long. When she raised her hand to knock again, the door suddenly opened. The figure of a woman stood there, shrouded in shadows.

I’m Karen Cahill. I’m looking for Genevieve.

I’m Gen. Please come in.

Karen stepped across the threshold, trying to get a reading on the house and the woman who’d hired her. The inside of the home was dark. A pale, flickering light beckoned from the back of the house.

Is your electricity out? Karen asked.

No, Gen replied. We lit candles for the séance.

Karen let out a frustrated sigh. The séance. Why did people insist on playing around with the spirits on the Other Side? The supernatural realm wasn’t a playground. What was wrong with people?

Candles? Karen shook her head.

You know, to create an atmosphere.

Well, for heaven’s sake, turn the lights on. I don’t want to stumble around in the dark all night.

Gen flipped a switch and the entryway was suddenly flooded with light. Karen blinked to get her bearings. She took in the gray walls, the black furniture, and gothic decorations. Pictures of haunted houses and other spooky themes adorned the walls. A skull candle holder sat upon a table. It was obvious the inhabitants of this home tried to create their very own haunted house. Karen doubted this was their first attempt to contact the Other Side, but if she had her way, it would be the last.

You don’t look like a psychic, Gen observed.

How should a psychic look? Karen was used to this type of attitude. She’d been questioned before by clients who bought into stereotypes.

I don’t know. Gen waived her hand vaguely, drawing Karen’s attention to her long, pointed, black nails. I envisioned someone with crystal necklaces and beads or a scarf or something.

Well, you were wrong. Being a psychic is a gift you’re born with. You don’t become psychic by dressing up in silly costumes. Karen knew she didn’t look the part in her blue jeans, sweatshirt, and sneakers, but she didn’t care. She dressed for comfort and practicality—not to satisfy the delusional fantasies of a woman who dressed in head-to-toe black and played around with the paranormal.

Where did you perform the séance, and how many people participated? Karen asked.

In the back room, Gen said. It was me, my fiancé, and his sister.

And the participants are still here?

Yeah. Come on. I’ll show you.

They walked through the house. The whole place looked like a Hollywood horror-movie set. Karen wrinkled up her nose in disdain.

So, what’s in the bag? Gen asked, gesturing toward a navy blue tote bag slung across Karen’s shoulder.

A few supplies. Candles, crystals, salt…I never know what I might need.

Gen nodded, seeming to approve of Karen’s bag of tricks.

Okay, so right in here…

Karen followed Gen into a large room. Karen stopped short at the doorway and mumbled a brief prayer to the Goddess. Again, the energy in this room was cloudy, but Karen could feel a subtle dark energy underlying it. The walls and even the ceiling were painted black. A large, black pentagram was spray painted on the red tiled floor.

Fools, Karen murmured.

Contrary to popular belief, the pentagram wasn’t a satanic symbol. It was only evil in the hands of foolish wannabe mediums. And, clearly, these wannabe mediums were as foolish as they came.

What kind of room is this? What’s going on here? Karen demanded.

This is where we perform rituals, Gen explained.

What sort of rituals?

We cast circles and perform magic. Nothing crazy.

I see. Well, I think it’s crazy to dabble in magic when you don’t know what you’re doing.

Who says we don’t know what we’re doing? A tall, terribly skinny young man with black eyeliner and black clothing stepped forward. Chains dripped from his belt loop down to a utility pocket on the side of this thigh. His angular face was accented by multiple piercings.

If you knew what you were doing, why did you call me in the middle of the night? Karen asked.

The young man remained silent.

Karen, this is my fiancé Tristan, Gen said, introducing her brooding friend. And this is his sister Laney.

Karen glanced at the girl standing by a buffet table lined with black candles in elaborate candle holders. Laney was petite and pale with midnight black hair and a gothic style, velvet, ruby-red dress that looked like a Halloween costume.

Unimpressed, Karen looked at each person in turn, fixing them with a stern glare. The ritual you performed tonight –was it different from previous rituals you’ve performed?

Not really.

Have you ever used a Spirit board?

A few times. Just messing around, you know. Gen shrugged casually.

What on earth made you think this would be a good idea?

It’s fun.

It’s fun until the whole thing blows up in your face.

Relax. It’s fine, Laney said, rolling her eyes.

Young lady, I’ve been cleaning up after people like you since before you were born. I don’t relax when it comes to people messing around with things they don’t understand. Karen turned back to Gen. Did you use a Spirit board tonight?

Yeah.

Where is it?

Over here. Gen led Karen to a folding table on the other side of the room. A Spirit Board sat in the middle. It was ancient looking, made of weathered wood, the letters faded. The planchette rested on the letter N.

Did anyone properly close the session? Karen asked.

Oh, yeah. Sure, Tristan said.

Please tell me what was said during this séance, Karen said.

Gen described the opening of the séance and how they called upon any spirits in attendance to make their presence known.

The planchette started moving, Gen said, referring to the pointer on the board that moved from letter to letter, spelling out a message from the attending spirit. The spirit said his name was Von. We started asking him questions.

What sort of questions.

We asked where he was from and he said ‘other.’ Then we asked him how old he was he said ‘older than time.’ Then the planchette started moving on its own. He said ‘bring me over.’

And what did you say? Karen asked, frowning.

We said ‘yes,’ Laney replied.

Why in heaven’s name would you do such a thing? If you were foolish enough to deliberately offer to bring this thing into your house, why should I help you to get rid of it? she asked.

Laney sneered at her. Who told you we were looking to get rid of it?

Of course we want to get rid of it, Gen said, her eyes wide.

"Maybe you do," Laney shot back.

Chills shot down Karen’s spine. She’d assumed the job entailed getting rid of something they’d summoned accidentally. Not something they willfully invited. Oh, the arrogance. She’d taken this job based on her own erroneous assumptions. When they’d called her begging for her help, she figured this was a run of the mill case where a group of bumbling idiots accidentally summoned a pesky dark spirit during a séance. Karen, it seemed, was the bumbling idiot. An arrogant idiot who made poor assumptions and underestimated the people she was dealing with. She couldn’t help them unless they were all on the same page. Laney and Gen each wanted a different outcome, and until they figured out what they were looking for, Karen couldn’t do anything for them.

She took a deep breath and tried to speak as calmly as she could. I was under the impression that you needed my help with a haunting. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I don’t think I’ll be able to help. I’ll take my leave.

A frigid wind gusted through the room, lifting Karen’s hair. She shivered. The windows rattled and the double doors that partitioned the room from the rest of the house slammed shut. Cold laughter filled the room. It seemed to be coming from all around them. Gen’s eyes were filled with fear, but Laney’s were full of excitement.

Karen strode to the doors and rattled the doorknob. It wouldn’t budge.

Going somewhere? a deep voice asked, washing over her like a bucket of ice water.

With great trepidation, she turned to face Tristan. But it wasn’t Tristan. Not anymore. His eyes were black orbs. Pale skin stretched taut across angular cheekbones. Inhuman features no longer belonging to Tristan.

The haunting had turned into a case of demonic possession. Karen was used to dealing with ghosts, poltergeists, and the occasional dark entity, but she’d never encountered a demon. She’d never performed an exorcism. She wasn’t even sure she had the skills to do it.

Tristan, Gen cried.

Who’s Tristan? The demon’s smile was mocking.

You are not welcome here. This young man’s body is not yours to possess. In the name of the Goddess, I command you to leave, Karen said firmly.

I’m not going anywhere, nor am I yours to command. The demon’s words rattled the windows. Picture frames fell from the walls, glass shattering on the floor.

Blessed Goddess… Karen’s chants were drowned out by a tempest of destruction sweeping through the room. She needed to cast a circle of protection, but with objects flying at her from all directions, there was hardly time to do so. A candlestick hit her in the side of the head, knocking her to the ground. Wetness trickled down the side of her face. She scrambled to her feet, feeling dizzy.

Suddenly, the whirlwind ceased, leaving an uneasy silence. Laney’s shrill voice broke the unearthly quiet. Von, I’ve brought you a body to inhabit. I command you to leave my brother and take control of the medium instead. Her voice shook as she stammered out her orders.

The demon laughed. I’ve found a body I like much better. It fits perfectly.

No. That wasn’t the deal, Laney said, looking around frantically as if she would find answers in the destruction strewn throughout the room. Her gaze landed on Karen. You have to help me control it.

Control? You can’t control a demon, Karen replied.

What the hell did you do, Laney? Gen screamed.

Karen ran to the pentagram. She didn’t have time to purify the area, but she hoped casting a circle would be enough. She reached for a canister of salt lying on its side, praying there would be enough to cast a circle. Mumbling a basic incantation, she quickly spun around, shaking the salt in a lopsided circle. She motioned for Gen to join her.

Blessed Goddess, please protect us. Keep us safe in your circle of light. Karen raised her voice above the noise and chaos surrounding them.

Plaster from the ceiling rained down and the floor buckled. Tristan’s hand reached out to Laney. Come.

No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You’re supposed to take the old woman’s body, Laney said. You said…

I lied. An eerie smile stretched across Tristan’s face. He reached for Laney again, but she backed away.

Laney, you contacted the demon before? Gen asked. You planned this all along. I never should have trusted you.

I’m sorry, Laney cried. I didn’t know this was going to happen.

Karen grabbed Gen’s hands. Look at me. I need your help. I can’t do this alone. Do you want to save your brother? Gen nodded. Then help me.

Whatever I have to do to save Tristan.

I’ll help, Laney said. Please. I promise. Let me in the circle and I’ll help you.

The demon was closing in on Laney. She ran to the circle, but the strong protection surrounding it kept her on the perimeter.

Please, she begged.

It’s up to you, Karen said. Can we trust her?

With a muttered blessing, Gen scattered a portion of the salt and pulled Laney inside. Then she quickly replaced the salt while Karen chanted a spell of protection to recast the circle. Objects pelted the barrier around them as the demon howled in rage. The floor shook beneath them.

Karen looked around the room. Most of the supplies she needed were in her bag—outside the circle. A black candle sat in the middle of the pentagram along with some incense and a lighter. Karen would have preferred a white candle, but this would have to do. She lit the candle and murmured a purification spell.

We need to draw the demon out of Tristan’s body and command him to follow the light of the candle. In order to do this, we need to use every bit of energy we have. Understood? I need your full concentration. No matter what happens outside that circle, I need you to focus on the spell. Got it?

Both girls nodded. They held hands and Karen began to speak. Under the authority of the Goddess and Benevolent Spirits, I command this Dark Entity to leave this man’s body and return to its realm. You are forbidden to return to this plane, and you are prohibited from contacting any human in this realm.

Vengeful laughter filled the room. Karen continued to chant spells and prayers as she swayed back and forth, still holding tight to Gen’s and Laney’s hands. Tristan’s body convulsed on the floor and the flame on the candle flickered, rising up toward the ceiling. The flame danced sideways, turning from white to blood red to black. Unearthly screams erupted from Tristan’s mouth. When Gen jerked her head toward the source of the noise, Karen squeezed her hand to remind her to focus entirely on the spell.

Light shot from Tristan’s feet, hands and chest, and at last, his body ceased to move. The candle’s flame shot straight up toward the ceiling one last time and then went out completely.

Tristan, Gen shouted.

Do not break the circle, Karen warned, holding tight to Gen’s hand. She quickly thanked the Goddess and Benevolent Spirits for their assistance and said another prayer of protection before properly closing the circle.

Gen and Laney rushed to Tristan’s side. He rolled over, moaning.

My head is splitting, he said. What the hell happened? His gaze darted around the room, taking in the apocalyptic scene as if seeing it for the first time.

You don’t remember anything? Gen asked, sounding alarmed.

That’s very common, Karen said.

Tristan’s eyes narrowed as Gen explained what had happened. His expression was furious when he looked at his sister.

What the hell is wrong with you, Laney?

I…I thought I had it under control. The demon wasn’t supposed to do what he did.

"But you thought it was okay to let him take control of a stranger? You thought that would be okay?"

It was just for fun. Just an experiment…

An experiment? I never should have listened to you, Tristan said. I never should have let you talk us into doing a séance.

It wasn’t my fault. It was the demon. Next time, I’ll be careful who I contact.

Next time? There’s not going to be a next time. Not in my house, Tristan said.

You could have killed someone, Gen said. Don’t you realize what could have happened? I think you need to leave. Like, now.

You can’t kick me out. It’s Tristan’s house too. Tristan? She appealed to her brother.

Go. Tristan stomped toward her, forcing her out of the room and toward the front entryway.

Laney shot Gen and Tristan a look of deep loathing before walking outside and slamming the door behind her. Moments later, tires squealed outside.

Thank you, Karen. I…I don’t know what to say, Gen stammered.

Yeah. Seriously. Thank you. You saved my life, Tristan said.

It wasn’t supposed to go down like that, Gen said tearfully.

Tristan interrupted. My sister. She’s unhinged. She said she wanted to summon a spirit. She didn’t say anything about a demon.

Karen held her hand up to stop them from speaking. She’d heard enough. She didn’t want to hear any more. What you did was very dangerous, but I guess I don’t need to tell you that. Toss that spirit board in the garbage. Or better yet, burn it. Say some prayers of protection too.

Tristan pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. What do we owe you?

Nothing, Karen said quickly. I don’t want a single penny.

But… Gen protested.

You helped me make a very important decision tonight. Let’s call it even, Karen said. She gathered up her belongings and left, muttering prayers of protection and calling on the Goddess to guide her safely home.

She drove through the quiet night, sensing danger around every corner. She wondered if she’d be able to trust her intuition again. Her psychic abilities had failed her. She’d been tricked. Or maybe it wasn’t her psychic skills that failed—she’d allowed a desire for money to override her intuition. Whatever the case, her confidence had been obliterated and she couldn’t imagine ever taking another case.

It was still dark when Karen got home. Claire was asleep on the sofa.

Everything go okay? she murmured, blinking the sleep from her eyes. She sat up abruptly when she focused on Karen. I can see from the gash on your forehead that it didn’t. What happened?

I’ll tell you later. Right now, I’m beat. Do you want to stay here tonight? Karen asked. Part of her wished she’d stay; she would welcome the comfort of having her sister here. Part of her wished she’d go home; Karen had things to do and she wanted to be alone.

Claire yawned. I think I’ll go home, if that’s okay. My cats get lonely when I’m not there. Are you sure you’re going to be okay by yourself?

I’m fine. Besides, Jared’s here. I’m not alone.

You might as well be. That kid sleeps like a log, Claire chuckled.

We’ll talk tomorrow, Karen promised. Thanks again for coming.

After Claire left, Karen locked every door and window. With tired, shaking hands, she lit every candle in the house while asking the Goddess and Benevolent Spirits to protect her. She cleaned the wound on her forehead. And then she tossed her bloodstained sweatshirt in the trash.

After a shower, she logged on to her computer and removed every advertisement she’d posted online. She removed her website, threw away her business cards, and changed the voicemail on her phone.

The sun was coming up when Karen crawled into bed. On Monday, she’d begin looking for a new job. Because Karen Cahill, Certified Psychic was officially in retirement.

*****

If you enjoyed this story you might like to read more of Tricia’s writing. Such as…

The Séance

by Tricia Drammeh

Read more about Karen Cahill in The Séance, book one in the Dark Summons series:

Ninth grade can be a nightmare when you don’t fit in at school, your crush chooses someone else, and your parents tell you they’re having a new baby. Abby was prepared for normal high school problems. She wasn’t prepared for a demon. 

Abby has always been fascinated by the paranormal, but after an ill-fated séance, she discovers not all Spirits are benign. A dark entity unleashed during the summoning sets out to destroy Abby, and within days, she loses her best friend, incurs the wrath of her parents, and becomes a prisoner in her own home. With time quickly running out, she assembles an unlikely group of helpers: the most hated guy in school, a retired psychic, and the cute clerk from her favorite bookstore. Unless the demon is defeated, Abby and her new baby brother won’t stand a chance.

*****

Tricia Drammeh lives in New Hampshire with her husband, children, and animals. When she isn’t reading, writing, or walking her dog through haunted graveyards, she can be found binge-watching reruns of Law & Order SVU. She is currently working on the second novel in the Dark Summons series.

Website: http://triciadrammeh.com/

An Arm and a Leg

By Adan Ramie

An old shutter creaked in the wind. Della shivered and wrapped her hands around herself. In the distance, thunder rumbled, and dark clouds passed over the moon. She squinted at the boarded front door, then took a step back.

I don’t think I want to do this anymore, she said.

Aw, come on, Del! The girl in front of her turned and walked back down the porch steps. They said we can join. They don’t let just anyone in, you know. It took me six months just to get them to consider us.

Della looked up at her best friend, and weighed her options. On the one hand, I can leave right now, desert Rosie, and be the laughing stock of the school. On the other, they could be planning to sacrifice me to some kind of demon, and leaving would be worth never speaking to my friend again and being the laughing stock of the ninth grade.

Good evening, ladies.

The unfamiliar voice jerked Della out of her thoughts. Both girls looked up and their eyes fixed on a strange girl about their age. She smiled with one half of her mouth and looked them up and down, first one, then the other. Della had the peculiar feeling that she was being measured, and she rubbed her upper arms in their sweater to warm away the chill that passed through her.

Hi. Lena invited us, Rosie stammered.

The girl cocked her head to the side. Are you ready for everything that’s in store for you tonight?

Rosie snorted, as if meetings in abandoned houses in the middle of thunderstorms were commonplace. Yeah, we’re ready. Born that way.

Della groaned. The girl at the door shifted her gaze to take in Della’s yellow cardigan and khaki slacks. She barely suppressed a smile.

Are you sure? she asked. Your friend doesn’t seem up to it, she said to Rosie, but kept her eyes on Della, their gazes locked. Della couldn’t look away.

Rosie laughed, but it rang hollow in the dark. She’s just a little shy. She nudged Della’s shoulder, and Della shook her head to clear it. She’ll be fine once she gets in, she said more to Della than to the girl at the door.

Well, then, by all means, come in. The girl stepped back inside, pushed the door open with one hand and ushered them in with the other. We won’t keep the others waiting any longer.

As Della passed by her, she could hear the subtle sniff as the girl smelled her hair. She looked behind her, but the girl had already locked the door behind them and started into the house.

Our society is very exclusive for a number of reasons. You didn’t tell anyone you were here? She glanced back at Rosie.

No, I didn’t tell anyone but Della. She crossed her heart like a scout.

And you, Della. Did you tell anyone? She stopped and turned around and locked eyes with her, glossy pools of navy flecked with brown staring back at her plain, pale blue ones.

No, Della whispered. Not a soul.

The girl stared at her for another long, pregnant moment, then broke into the charming smile of a hostess. Great! Now that we know you can follow the rules, we can start.

Start what? Rosie asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

Della realized then that Rosie didn’t know any more than she did about this secret society, and wondered what exactly her best friend had gotten them into.

Your induction into The Society for the Preservation of Old Souls. S.P.O.S. for short.

She pulled a leather necklace out from under her blouse and over her head. At the end of it was an old, oddly-shaped key that she slid into the ornate lock on the glossy black door. The tumbler clicked, and she took a deep breath. She turned the ivory handle, pushed with her shoulder and gritted her teeth until a force from inside seemed to help her open the heavy door. She beckoned them to follow as she walked inside and disappeared into an inky blackness.

Rosie took a step forward, but Della caught her by the elbow.

I don’t think this is such a great idea, she whispered. They seem kind of dodgy.

The shorter girl snorted and pulled her arm away. You’re starting to act dodgy. They’re the most exclusive clique in the whole damned high school, Della. Don’t you want to be in the Inner Circle? Don’t you want to finally be someone? Anyone?

Della chewed her cuticle for a moment, then dropped her hand and sighed. She walked in behind Rosie, and hoped they hadn’t just made a huge mistake. The passageway was pitch black; not a sliver of light peeked through anywhere, and Della bumped her knees and shins on several heavy, stone objects, a few of which were pointy enough that she was sure they had broken skin. Just when she was totally losing her nerve, and was working out a plan to sprint back from where they came and leave Rosie behind to enjoy her Inner Circle, the hallway opened up into a large, candlelit chamber.

Ladies, pardon the interpellation, their guide announced to those gathered below them. Allow me to introduce Rosie and Della.

They stood on a platform raised high above the rest of the room, and Della felt as if she were on display. The girls below them looked about their age, but something about them said they were wiser, more mature, and worldlier than small town girls could – or should – be. Some of them