The Turkey-Day Terror: a Tale of Oven-Roasted Dread (Millennial Horror Stories)

The crisp smell of fallen leaves struck me as I opened the door of my beat-up Civic. It was a pleasant aroma that would have been more delightful had those leaves not been shoved into dramatically black trash bags. My aunt Priscilla’s lawn was immaculate — not a stray leaf to be found. The scent clearly arose from her neighbor’s yard, where a charming sprinkle of dried leaves stopped dead at the property line as though by a force field.

I closed the car door and inhaled a deep breath, avoiding any drift that would send one offensive leaf across the barrier. With a small prayer that my morning toke would grant me serenity, I began the long march toward Aunt Priscilla’s obnoxiously red door.

It was time to face the inevitable.

As I neared the house, the lovely autumnal scent was quickly overcome by the stink of cigarettes and dying flowers. I took one last clean breath before I knocked.

Instantly, an onslaught of deranged howls struck my ears. I had angered the hounds.

Aunt Priscilla opened the door with a scowl, standing in a dramatic cloud of smoke. Her hounds stood behind her. They were quite small compared to the noise they were making, although they clearly believed they were larger than I.