Excerpt for Daath Comes Calling By Peter Inserra
A pre-winter storm blew into Aston Ville that Thanksgiving, expectedly so, which meant no one was taken aback by it and densely populated the Royce residence for the annual gathering of friends and family to gorge on Master Charles’ bountiful feast. Charles, being the wealthiest person in Aston Ville, always went all out for the holiday and all who attended gave him many thanks in return. Most of Charles’ employees assisted at the feast and in turn were treated most generously at the wallet in time for the next holiday making it a season to remember.
In the recreation room, aunts Mary Grace and Sandra were playing darts and reflecting on the year that had passed. Mary Grace, as always, the stunning beauty that won Miss Mustang County as a teenager, was drawing the attention of the males, especially considering her divorce that year from Richard McLaren the millionaire banker and adulterer. She assuredly brought on even more attention because of the “breast enhancements” paid for by the divorce settlement. “I got rid of one boob and was able to improve the other two!” she joked to Sandra, a beautiful if slightly ditzy counterpart.
At the same time Mary Grace was enjoying the attention her chest was bringing and the inner warmth her glasses of Chateau Lafitte 1965 was imparting, Grandfather James was regaling the youth of the family with stories of World War 2, enormous snowfalls, swimming in long forgotten water holes and other tales of different times when ignorance was bliss. Though I should point out that the theory of regaling was in the eyes of Grandfather James as most of the youth had heard the stories numerous times before and were highly bored with hearing them again, most were simply trying to catch James in a contradiction from previous versions but Grandpa still had his mental acuity intact. Unfortunately, as the Royce Estate was far from any metropolis, there was no internet access here and the children had to find a means of entertainment sans electronics.
It was about 3PM, or half-time of the other annual Thanksgiving tradition-Detroit Lions football game as every sports fan knows, that the employees summoned all to the dining hall to begin the gorging. Reverend Thomas thought that very unfortunate timing as he had just secured Charles ear and was working toward securing a donation for his church to assist in some of the repairs and updates the 1940’s-era building needed as it had never been updated. He was able to secure another meeting though, in private, after the tryptophan from the turkey had worn off, to make his requests which filled the Reverend with eternal hope that the drafty stained glass windows would be caulked before more parishioners fled his flock to warmer churches.
Want to subscribe to our newsletter so you won’t miss the next short story? Just sign up HERE
Want more frightful fiction? Just search below: