|From Setting Sun to Morning Light (standard:horror, 2698 words)|
|Author: Cloud Strife||Added: Jul 30 2003||Views/Reads: 2295/1786||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|The strange tale of a woman running a bed and breakfast who is receiving orders to kill her guests from a mysterious figure known simply as George|
From Setting Sun to Morning Light By Christopher McCarthy Anne shuffled slowly into the spacious and well-lit kitchen, got her milk and sugar and put on the kettle for tea to help wake her up fully like she did every morning at a quarter to six. In fact you could almost set your watch by the woman. She was out of bed every day of the week, rain or shine at half past five to fix breakfast for herself and George and afterwards she would make breakfast for her guests, if there were any. Her home was a large Bed and Breakfast on Penchard Street in South London called ‘From Setting Sun to Morning Light'. When people asked her about the name she told them that she called it this because the sun shone into the house so beautifully and brightly late every evening and again early every morning giving the place a magnificent golden glow which illuminated the entire house and made it seem very cosy and relaxing. It certainly was a very nice place to stay in for a few days. Anne loved running the Bed and Breakfast because even though she had to work hard everyday cooking meals for the guests, cleaning up after them and keeping the house in good order she loved the old house dearly and it did not feel like real work to her anyway. It was her life. All of the rooms were elegantly decorated, extremely neat and Anne was also a fine cook. She looked after her guests well and it never ceased to amaze them how she managed to keep the large place in such a fine condition. It was quite a feat for a sixty-four year old woman and George was never any help to her at all either around the house or with the guests. He entered the kitchen just as Anne was arranging the table for breakfast. “Morning George”, she called over to him while taking a sip of her tea. “Good morning to you Anne my dear”, he answered heartily. He seemed in very high spirits this morning she noticed. “I'll fix us something to eat now”, she said, “and then I'll start on our guests”. “How many do we have today George? My memory isn't quite what it used to be”. “Well”, he answered, “there is that young couple Helen and Steve Byrne, down from Glasgow for the weekend staying in room two, there's another couple in room three and that quiet threesome of ladies over from Germany in room five”. “Breakfast for seven it is then. I'd better get started with the days work soon”, she said and finished her breakfast. A few hours later, after she had killed the couple from Glasgow she enjoyed a nice ham and cheese sandwich. It had been a right chore getting rid of those two but luckily Anne had a lot of practice with that sort of thing. She had quite liked the young couple, they had seemed like very nice people and happy together. She had wanted to let them live but George had insisted that they die. This had been stated implicitly leaving no room for questioning his decision. She had however tried in vain to argue and plead about it with George but predictably in the end as with all the other times this had occurred he had gotten his way so Anne had killed for him again. She had been watching room two closely for most of the afternoon waiting for one of the couple to leave until finally the husband Steve did leave the room. As he made his way out Anne who had been in her sitting room busy with a crossword heard him call to his wife that he would be back in about ten minutes. This gave her more than enough time to murder his wife. She was soon knocking on the door of room two and entered cautiously carrying new sheets for the bed in both hands. Underneath these sheets she held a hammer. Helen was just coming out of the bathroom as Anne entered the room and was about to utter a greeting when the first blow landed. It was mistimed and so had not found its intended mark. It glanced of the side of Helen's head leaving a nasty but shallow cut. Helen fell back against the wall clutching her head and was too stunned by what was happening to react to the situation so Anne was able to repeatedly smash her head with the hammer until the whole place was a mess of blood and small fragments of skull. Anne then crouched down behind the door and waited for Steve's arrival. She did not have to wait for him very long. He was stunned by the gruesome scene that he encountered on entering the room and so of course did not notice the old woman sneaking up behind him. He burst into tears just before the hammer crashed into the back Click here to read the rest of this story (153 more lines)
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