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My editor could be a man of very few words. “Is there something specific you wanted while I’m here? Because you didn’t include much in the email you sent me.”
“Not really.”
Okay. Why call me on my first day here? “Is there something else you wanted?”
“Uh. No.” He sounded hesitant. “No. Check in tomorrow.”
“I will.”
“Wait. I’m sending you a list of local haunted houses and attractions. I want you to visit all of them. Get a feel for the vibe in the town.”
Weird. “I can reimburse the cost, right?” I asked, joking.
“We discussed that already, Carly. Keep receipts. I’ll take care of the expenses.”
“Is this your way of saying you want more than photos? Is something going on in Woodbridge Falls I need to know about?”
Dale was a bloodhound. He could sniff out a story faster than anyone I ever met.
“Just check out the haunted houses for me.”
“And write a story about my experience here?” So far, the answer had always been no. That didn’t stop me from trying to impress Dale enough to move beyond a photographer position and into the staff as a writer for our local paper.
“Maybe. Check your email. Sent you the list.”
I almost squealed but managed to hold my excitement in.
Dale ended the call without saying another word.
When I checked the email, I found a list of fifteen places he wanted me to visit. It seemed a bit strange because I didn’t foresee a big difference among them. Would readers be interested in every location? Maybe I needed to focus on the scare factor and thrills. I wanted the piece I wrote afterward to be rich enough in detail to transport them into the scene with only words.
At the top of the list, I found Blood Moon Manor. It promised a night full of mayhem and terror—just my kind of Halloween fun. At exactly eight o’clock, I drove to the location and parked in a long line of cars on a hill. No paved lot. I trudged through mud and tried not to think about having to clean my boots tomorrow.
Spooky sounds and haunting music were pumped through speakers beyond the entrance. An occasional wail, scream, or chainsaw alerted us to the horrors inside. My camera hung around my neck for easy access, and I clutched it, jolting when a demonic clown jumped in front of me. A dark laugh followed as he moved on, scaring others in line.
Cold air swept over the crowd as the leaves on nearby trees shook in the wind. Night had stolen the warmth of the sun and plunged us all into chilly darkness. By the time I reached the front of the line, I shivered. I should have worn a heavier coat. Instead, I only pulled on a thin sweater and light denim jacket. My fingers felt stiff, but I knew I’d warm up once I entered the haunted house.
Only a few people stood in front of me, and I shifted from foot to foot, trying to stay warm.
“You think he’ll come here tonight?” I heard a young woman behind me ask her companion.
“I hope not,” the guy laughed, but it sounded forced.
“He chooses one of the haunted houses every night.”
He? Who were they talking about?
“Just stay close, Heather. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“You’re up.”
I blinked as I stood in front of the walkthrough metal detector.
“Got anything other than the camera on you?”
“Just my phone.”
He gestured to a long table that had been erected to the side. “Place the camera and your cell on the table. After that, head on through.”
