Response to Tammy Drabble #62: Intruder (Someone is an intruder, or perhaps just expecting one that never comes.)
Disclaimer: I'm not Tammy Pierce. If I was I could get published.
Four small pairs of feet traversed a corridor so dark that it seemed to absorb the light from their lantern faster than it could illuminate the surfaces. It wasn't that surprising that all the players quaked in their shoes. The eldest was an unhappy participant – not having felt particularly interested in this type of adventure, but goaded into tagging along by the teasing of the youngest – Alianne, who was only eight years old. "You're not scared are you, Kally?" in that small, expectant voice was apparently more than she could take.
"We should be upstairs with the rest, enjoying the Samhain festivies," Kalasin muttered under her breath.
"It's just like you to think the 'dance of the faerie folk' is more 'portant than a' experiment of this megatude," Thom said.
"You mean magnitude, I think," Kalasin corrected formally, shaking her head at Thom's insistence at trying to use words he didn't totally understand.
Before the door to the Conte family crypt they faltered, each suddenly uncertain what had possessed them to follow Thom's ghost story to this extreme.
"We could come tomorrow," Alan said in a quavering voice. Of course tomorrow in his vocabulary was any future date which was not now. Kalasin thought that sounded like a capital idea.
"It has to be tonight," Thom responded in his most grown-up voice, which still held enough soprano timbre to keep anyone from being fooled. "If my Uncle Thom really did make it so part of Duke Roger langers here, then we'll only see on special holidays. "
"Lingers," Kally corrected, her voice dropping to a whisper. Thom frowned and stuck the key in the door.
"Who goes there?" called a voice that sounded to the children like a specter. All four shrieked and ran as hard as they could, leaving behind a confused crypt keeper, who, for a fleeting moment, thought he might have company on this lonely holiday.