Supper: The Horror Short Story You've Been Craving Read Free

the
dark, by myself?”
    Tamra shrugged. “Take Leo with you, then.”
    “Leo, what?” he said now invested in the conversation.
    Yes, that was a great idea. Send the virgin brunette
and the black guy out onto a deserted road in the south. Brilliant, Tamra. Just
brilliant.
    Bitsy intervened. “There’s all manner of creature running
around after dark. No, you should have some supper then spend the night.”
    Right about now, Leo’s aunt Leykisha would be screaming for
him to run. Forget the dark road. Forget the creatures. Forget manners. Just
run. And his nine-times-a-week at-the-gym conditioned legs wanted to, but Leo
did not want to give those two on the porch the satisfaction.
    Besides, how bad could dinner be?
    * * *
    Stacey hesitated at the threshold. Leo held the door open
for her. Jonathan had, of course, already disappeared into the house with
Tamra. The inside was cloaked in cobwebs. People did live here, right?
    She glanced back down the long road as the sun set, casting
fingerlike shadows. There was no going back in that direction. Stacey looked
up. Leo gave her a reassuring smile, although the edges of his lips seemed to
quiver a bit.
    Having to endure another meal with Tamra would do that to
you.
    “Don’t let the flies in, girl!” the man said, hobbling over.
    He reached a hand out to hurry her along, but Stacey
awkwardly leaned to the side to avoid his touch. Who knew where those hands had
been? The man guided them through a living room where all the furniture had
dusty cloths draped over it. And the wallpaper? Though it was stained and
shabby, Stacey thought she could make out the faintest pattern of an old
English garden.
    Um, that was about the exact opposite of this dingy, sad
farmhouse. Newspapers, yellowed with age, sat stacked up against the fireplace
and even inside of it. Again, they lived here, right?
    “Don’t get many outsiders in these parts,” he
explained as he nodded toward the furniture… and not much cause to use the good
furniture. Not with Ma…”
    The man didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he gulped and
gimped his way into the kitchen. Stacey almost felt sorry for him. Almost .
    By the time they got into the kitchen, Jonathan and Tamra
were already seated, right next to one another, probably playing footsy under
the table. Great. She had to admit though that dinner, sorry, supper, did smell delicious. It was like the whole room was infused with its aroma.
Sometimes down-home cooking was the best.
    Unlike the living room, which felt stagnant and burdened
with years of disuse, this kitchen seemed well traveled. And the kitchen table?
It was set as if royalty were dining. Bitsy scurried about the room, getting
extra place settings, aligning them perfectly on the bright, flowery place
mats.
    “Cliver, get some extra chairs from the porch,” Bitsy
instructed the man. “Ruf is bringing Ma.”
    He nodded awkwardly, like he was trying to almost bow or
something. Weirdo .
    Quickly, though, as Stacey and Leo sat down opposite their
friends, Cliver came back into the kitchen with a chair in each hand. He placed
them next to the chair at the head of the table.
    But wait. That would make a total of ten chairs. But even
with the absent Ruf and Ma, that left two chairs unaccounted for. Who were the
other two people?
    Tamra’s asinine giggling brought Stacey’s gaze back to the
table. Already, wilted greens, buns, and fried okra were set on the table. A
large bowl sat ready for what Stacey could only assume was going to be soup.
Her stomach rumbled. How long ago had she eaten the pepperoni stick? Three
hundred miles ago? Well before they turned down that long-abandoned road—that
was for sure.
    Jonathan and Tamra had their heads bent together sharing
some completely titillating secret. Make that heavy on the “tit” part, as Tamra
pushed them together so that they formed a shelf practically under Jonathan’s
nose. How very convenient. He didn’t even have to bend over to stare