Читать книгу Small Town Monsters - Craig Nybo - Страница 28

Craig Nybo

10

like that of a preadolescent walking home after watching a horror movie, tickled Kurt’s spine as he moved across the street. At one point he glanced over his shoulder into the dark to make sure he was alone. Hugh still sat there, perched on that rickety bench of his. The old man raised his bottle. Kurt waved over his shoulder.

Kurt shook off the jitters; Hugh’s stories were better than any movie. He went to his bedroom, put on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and collapsed into bed. As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his fingers interwoven behind his head, he found himself almost expecting to hear the shrill night cry of a wolf from the nearby woods outside his window, but the howl didn’t come that night.