Shadows On The Highway
By CS Valentine
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About this ebook
We all have a darker side, a shadow self that we hide deep inside, but sometimes it gets out. This collection of delightfully twisted, supernatural short stories will captivate your imagination and entertain your darker side. A monster with a love of bakery, an old woman living in fear with her ex-con nephew, a widow with only one chance left, and a demon with a dark and powerful heart, are some of the characters wrestling with their darker selves, in this enjoyable collection.
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Shadows On The Highway - CS Valentine
SECOND CHANCE HOUNDS
Millie sat at the kitchen table, enjoying her morning coffee. Her mood changed the moment she heard the truck, with its heavy metal music blasting from the cab, pull into the driveway. Wringing her hands, she took a deep breath. She was going to give him one more chance to leave.
Leaping out of the old red Toyota pickup, Kyle tossed his cigarette butt on the driveway. Friday was a party, but now he was out of money. He didn’t have anything left to fence, and pawning his guitar was out of the question. He wiped his hands on his black cut off T-shirt and then ran his fingers through his hair. He would just have to charm a few more dollars out of Aunt Millie.
He strolled into the kitchen. Morning, Auntie. Me and the guys were rehearsing all night. Sorry I didn’t call,
he said, opening the fridge and grabbing a carton of orange juice.
Millie smiled and said, That’s okay. Listen, I know you just got in, but a policeman came here last night.
What he want?
He asked lot of questions about the robbery next door.
He sat across from her and took a swig from the carton. Did you say anything?
She swallowed. I told him you were here watching TV with me the night it happened.
Good,
he said, slamming the carton on the table. I don’t need them all up in my business.
Of course,
she said, looking down at the table. I thought maybe it might be time for you to move. I mean, you don’t want them coming around here suspecting you just because you got out of prison four months ago.
He stood up, leaning over the table toward her, and said, Who said anything about moving? Besides, the band isn’t up and running yet, and you can’t live here alone. You could have an accident or something, and nobody would know.
She looked up into his unshaven face, his dark eyes glaring at her. She swallowed. I don’t want you to move; I just don’t want them bothering you.
He sat down and took another swig from the carton. She may have been his mother’s oldest sister, but she was just as weak. He now had to get her to loosen the purse strings. You know I look after you and don’t want anyone thinking they could come here and rob you ‘cause you’re an old lady living by yourself.
I’ve been thinking about that too. I spoke to a dog rescue, and I have an appointment to adopt a dog. It can be my protection when you’re out playing with the band.
Not another dog. You moped around here for so long when you found Cinnamon dead in the street,
he said, laughing to himself. He had caught the dog chewing on his shoes and tossed it in the street to teach it a lesson.
I know,
she pleaded. But this wouldn’t be a Pomeranian. It would be bigger, and it wouldn’t get out through the fence. Look, Regina was going to take me to the agency, why don’t you come instead? I could stop at the bank after and maybe give you a few dollars for driving me.
Smiling, he said, Sure auntie, but I’ll need at least $200 for my time.
No problem, dear.
The dull, gray, two-story industrial building had no parking lot and was surrounded by scrub. Blue letters on the white door read, Entrance to Second-Chance Hounds. Kyle parked on the street and walked up to the door. He turned around, waiting for Millie.
Let’s get this over with,
he said, opening the door.
A bell above the door announced their arrival. The lobby’s pale-peach walls with white crown molding were a cheerful contrast to the stark exterior.
Near the white reception counter, a black plastic sign with white letters displayed the words Welcome Millie.
Oh look, how sweet,
Millie said.
Whatever. Where is everybody?
A black