A M Ialacci [Ialacci - Sight in the Dark

In the late 1800s, two brothers stumbled upon an unnamed village, surrounded by thick forest and fresh water to keep them protected and alive. The brothers were cruel men who wanted a home to call their own. In their darkest hour, the brothers slaughtered the villagers, dumping their bodies over the waterfall at the edge of town. People say the water ran red for weeks, giving the town its terrible name.

Ever since that horrible anniversary, Crimson Falls is haunted by its past with a present filled with violence and danger. Every October is filled with fear...and for good reason. On October 13th, the dreaded Founders Day, all the towns crime comes to a head. And by the 14th, fewer will be alive than before.

Crimson Falls is a fictional town, created and shared by 8 mystery, suspense, and thriller authors. Each novella paints a picture about life in Crimson Falls and the insanity that takes place leading up to Founders Day.

Do you dare to read them all?

Dear Cleo,

If you are reading this, I am now six feet under and pushing up daisies, and you have just been told that you now own my house in Crimson Falls and everything in it. I expect you to take good care of the house, all of my bluebird figurines, and especially Buttons. Ill miss them where Im going. Or maybe I wont. Who knows.

I think you need something new in your life. Youve made some terrible decisions and you need some time by yourself (and you are probably in need of a place to stay). I dont know if Crimson Falls is your kind of town, but life is what we make of it. I was going to leave the house to your cousin Geraldine, but her prissy cats wouldnt have gotten along with Buttons, and I know your dog is old and will die soon anyway. You were the logical choice.

There are some things you need to know about your new adoptive home, should you choose to move in, which you should, because if you sell my house, I will haunt you forever. This town was founded by some very bad people who killed some other people to gain control of the land, and they have been keeping the common folk around here under their thumb and scared ever since. Every October, the town celebrates its birthday, but strange things happen. Kids go missing, women get attacked, and people get killed. They leave that part out of the travel brochure, of course.

Some say its the descendants of that founding family reasserting their authority. Others say its just the evil in people coming out and taking advantage of the legend. Still, others say the town is cursed. I dont know whos right, I just know to stay indoors as much as possible during that second week of October, and make sure my mace is handy. In any case, the other fifty-one weeks of the year, its a nice place to live.

Ive enjoyed watching you grow into a woman, Cleo, even if you did make some stupid mistakes and marry some even stupider men. Maybe Crimson Falls will help you find your way.

Take care of the house, and dont feed Buttons any tuna. It gives him gas.

Love,

Great-Aunt Mildred

C leo Kemp nearly jumped out of her skin when the bang of knuckles on aluminum announced the arrival of her handyman, Nicholas.

Miss Cleo? his husky voice rang out.

Hey, Nicholas, she said, standing up from the leather recliner which had been her base of operations since moving into her great-aunts house. Cleo stretched as various joints made popping noises, ran a hand through her spiky pixie cut, and then padded to the front door and opened it.

The door sucked cool air and the smell of decay into the entryway. Nicholas Stubbs stood with his hands in his jean pockets, leaning on his back leg. A flannel jacket fit snug to his body. His weathered face was a collection of wrinkles and small scars, and he was rumored to have lived a hard life. He stayed at the only garage in Crimson Falls in exchange for a little cleaning up, and did odd jobs for town residents. Cleo was a regular client now, and she had known he was coming to rake the leaves but had forgotten.

Did you just want me to do the front? A whiff of cigarette smoke reached her as he spoke.

Cleo looked at her watch. Yeah, Ive got some errands to run later. We can save the back yard for another day. You know where the rake is?

Nicholas nodded, the ends of his silver hair brushing his chin as he waved at her and backed away under the canopy of the ancient oak tree in her front yard. Her gaze lifted to take in the whole thing, and a gust of cold wind knifed through her sweater from the open screen door. She let it slam shut and heard Nicholass voice from around the corner.

I need to put your storm door on soon. Too cold for screens in October.

She tucked her hands under her arms and breathed in the thick scent of rotting leaves. There were only patches left in that behemoth, and a heavy gray sky behind it. Nicholas had his work cut out for him.

Cleo closed the door, retreating to the warmth of the old bungalow. There were still boxes everywhere even though she had been in Crimson Falls for the better part of six months now. Her great-aunt Mildred had died and left her the house, a complete surprise but welcome coincidence to Cleo. Her second marriage had just fallen apart, and rather than get into a pissing contest with her crazy ex-husband about their stupid house, she had an instant escape plan. According to her aunt, Crimson Falls had a rather infamous history, but anywhere was better than living near her ex.

She hadnt turned the lights on yet and realized she could look out the front windows without being seen. Her Canon was never far away and she reached for it now, focusing the lens on Nicholas working out front.

She suspected that his lined face had been handsome once, and even though his hands were rough from hard work and often lined with dirt or grease, there was a quiet solidity to him. His presence was not unwelcome, she realized. Most men these days seemed stupid to her, or arrogant, or sexist. Every word that fell from their mouths was suspect. The few people in Crimson Falls in which she confided were women. A woman and a girl, in fact. Her neighbors, Imani and Kiara Fields.

Something about Nicholas drew Cleos attention, though. He was one of the few who knew she was not just an ambulance-chasing photographer. When he had come to fix her leaky kitchen faucet soon after she had moved in, he had seen the framed photos from her piece on homeless vets hanging in the hall, studying each of them for several minutes. When he was finished, he looked at her with pain in his eyes and nodded before turning to his work.

As he circled the tree, scraping the ground in swift strokes, Cleo followed his flannel-clad form with her viewfinder, watching in secret. She stopped a moment and reminded herself that she wasnt a paparazzo either. But her curiosity won out as she raised the camera again, looking for anything in Nicholass movements that might tell her about the reticent man.

Shooting behind glass would never do, though, and it wasnt like she was going outside. She carefully set her Canon on the coffee table as Oliver, her old hound-mix, plodded over to her and plunked his jaw onto her thigh. Aw, Oliver. Is it your turn for some attention? she asked, scratching his head and the spot just behind his ears. He sat back on his haunches and opened his mouth wide, tongue lolling, enjoying the scratches.