Four Dark Corners

By Teresa Hubley

Four stories that poke at the boundaries of what we know as reality and discover forces that are beyond reason and control. In them you will encounter: an innkeeper troubled by the ever-present previous owner, a professor whose promotion comes at a steep price, a married couple whose ingrained habits can only be broken by extremes, and a spirit that speaks through a bell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Teresa Hubley
• Release date: Oct 14, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465918949

Teresa Hubley

Teresa Hubley was born in Minneapolis and moved every couple of years after that, winding up in a handful of small Midwestern towns, suburban California and even west Africa. As an adult, she acquired a doctoral degree in anthropology and has lived most of her life in Maine, where she works in the health field. She usually has too many books to keep track of going at any time on her reading list. Favorite authors include Charles Dickens, E.M. Forster, Agatha Christie, Elizabeth Peters, and Dave Barry. Lunch out with Teresa and her family usually includes the reading of a few pages while the meal is delivered. When she's not reading or writing, she might be drawing, going for a long walk, or sneaking a guilty pleasure moment playing games on her tablet.

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Four Dark Corners

Copyright 2011 Teresa Hubley

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Table of Contents

Simple Math

Holding the Chair

Necrotherapy

The Keeper’s Foretoken

Simple Math

Sometime after nightfall on the fourth night in the new place, Mara trudged up the stairs to kiss her daughter Jenna goodnight. It was the earliest she had been able to pull herself away from the work of re-decorating the inn for its grand re-opening. Her husband, Fletcher, was still at work with his sledgehammer and power saw. Mara was covered in a layer of dust, glued to her by a layer of sweat. Her checked flannel shirt stuck to her lean body and her jeans felt stiff enough to stand up in the corner for the night. The band of her bra dug into her torso leaving a burning sensation.

Mara had just enough strength to pull herself up the narrow stairway to the fourth floor, that cozy (i.e. tiny) space under the eaves where she and her family now lived. It had been a life-long dream for Mara to own an inn on the coast of Maine and now she wondered why. The sound of voices in Jenna’s room snapped her to attention. It was long after the time the little girl should have been asleep.

Mara opened the door to find Jenna tucked tightly into the child-sized bed in the corner of her room, her doll resting on her pillow beside her. A woman sat beside the bed in a kitchen chair, cross-legged and comfortable in a bulky turtleneck sweater and worn khaki jeans. The visitor had stark green eyes, swept-back snow-white hair and a face that rippled with wrinkles. The woman looked up smiled.

Well, your Mama is here and so I must fly, the visitor said, rising with a slow stretch. See you again, Miss Jenna. The visitor’s voice was ageless, husky and deep.

Goodnight, Mercy, said Jenna.

Now Mara knew her visitor. Mercy Krause was the former owner of the inn, supposedly a notorious recluse. Her friendliness and easy way around the child seemed out of character from what Mara had heard.

You must be Mara Grayburn, the visitor said. I met your husband, Fletcher, on the first walk-through.

Mara took Mercy’s hand in a shake and a shudder went through her body. The hand was not merely cold but almost electric in the way it contrasted to Mara’s warmth. Mara pulled her hand back involuntarily and then smiled to smooth over the awkward moment. She rubbed the hand across her shirt.

Something about the way Mercy had said Fletcher’s name bothered her. She sounded like she was describing a slice of chocolate pie.

Goodnight, Mrs. Grayburn, Mercy said, sauntering out past her and off down the stairs. She seemed to disappear like a puff of smoke.

Mara pulled up the chair that Mercy had used and re-tucked Jenna, not caring that she did not appear to need further fussing with her covers.

I like Mercy, Jenna said. She comes every night and talks to me.

Uh-huh, Mara yawned.

Where does she live?

Good question. I’m sure she used to live here in the owner’s quarters. She must be retired now, don’t you think?

Jenna nodded. She’s very, very old, Mama.

You need your sleep, my darling, Mara said. She laid a kiss on Jenna’s forehead and then let herself out of the room, turning off the light as she went. She next stepped into the room belonging to Jenna’s older brother, Dustin, who was Jenna’s caretaker much of the time in these first crazy days.

Dustin was sound asleep, sprawled across his bed fully clothed. One hand still clutched the book he had been reading. Mara cocked her head to read the title of the book. It was a math textbook.

No wonder you fell asleep, huh? Mara murmured. She kissed Dustin on the cheek and left the room.

Mara was still awake, lying in bed with the light off, as Fletcher came into the room. It was well after midnight. He pulled off his sweaty clothing and wrapped up in a robe. Mara called out to him, as he was just about to leave the room for his shower.

Fletcher? Are you there?

Fletcher stalled in his tracks and said, Mara? What are you doing up?

Mara sat up and rubbed her eyes. With some effort, she could make out the shape of Fletcher, one leg poking out of the robe up to his thigh. After a week of hard work at their old home and a week of harder work here, he was losing his paunch and jiggle and starting to look very buff. This only made Mara worry.

I wanted to wait for you and talk to you about something, she said.

Sure, Fletcher said, turning back into the room. He sat on the end of the bed and continued, What is it?

Did you tell Mercy Krause she could have the run of our flat?

Fletcher’s brows knit in surprise and he shook his head. Watching his face, Mara could see he was serious. No. Of course not. Why?

She was in here tonight when I got here. In fact, Jenna says she has been here every night to tuck her in.

What does Dustin say?

Poor kid. He was asleep when I got here. He’s trying to keep up on his studies. I didn’t have the heart to wake him.

Simple then, said Fletcher said, giving Mara’s toe a squeeze as he rose back up to leave the room. We’ll ask Dustin. There’s probably a perfectly ordinary explanation.

The next morning, Mara and Fletcher plied Dustin with pancakes and sausage at the breakfast table before work. They let Jenna sleep in, while they required Dustin to at least get up for breakfast, so he could get his marching orders for the day.

"Why is Mercy Krause visiting