From the Twisted Tails III short story, DAY OF THE DEAD, by Marilyn Peake:

A small stone cottage topped by an inclined roof covered in slate tiles, it huddled beneath knotted trees with thick branches. Over an arched doorway, a sign announced "Lysandra’s Shop" in archaic black lettering. When a group of people entered the shop, Melinda slugged down her coffee, paid the bill and headed on over. The bells jingled their familiar greeting; the old woman laughed and welcomed her. "You’re back."

Melinda smiled and clutched her purse tightly against her body. "Yes, you were right. I haven’t found a costume yet."

The old woman moved closer, tapping creaking floorboards with her cane. Wrapping one arm around Melinda, she guided her to the edge of a steep wooden staircase leading to the basement. Pointing with her walking stick, the woman announced simply, "You’ll want to go down there. We have the most magical costumes and masks. You’ll find something, I’m sure. My daughter will help you, if you ask her."

A cold chill rose from the basement, enveloping Melinda; but she heard people chatting and a small child happily running around down there, and curiosity got the better of her. She descended one worn step at a time.

Reaching the bottom, she arrived in a small room, a stone wall directly in front of her and Halloween costumes hanging on racks along the left wall. On the right, an arched doorway led to a much larger room. Realizing that the voices of several adults and the small child came from there, she ducked through and looked around. It was more than she had expected. Thousands of costumes hung from racks in the middle of a cavernous room. Brightly decorated altars, set against stone walls, lined the perimeter; dark hallways branched off from the main room in various directions. Melinda pictured the underground complex as a large spiderweb and realized that this basement had to be incredibly larger than the house above. The floors were made of hard gray concrete.

Thinking she might leave, her attention was suddenly captivated by a small child popping out of the hanging costumes—a small, dainty girl with fiery red hair, deep black eyes, and a contagious laugh. "Are you here to buy a costume?"

"Yes...yes, I am." Melinda waved in the direction of the racks. "Looks like there’s enough to choose from here. Do you have your costume for trick-or-treating?"

"Yes", the girl giggled, "I’m the devil."

Melinda laughed. "Well, let’s hope you aren’t really."

The smile disappeared from the girl’s face; she stared intently at Melinda.

Copyright (c) 2008 Marilyn Peake