Beyond The Hallow Grave: Editingle Indie House Anthology (Ed
She inhaled deeply, let out a relaxed breath, and just as she put her teacup to her lips, a loud crash forced her to jump and dribble her beverage down the front of her dress.
“Bloody hell!” she shouted. Renfield dashed back around the corner of the house. Up from her chair and out onto her front walk, Mrs. Belfry craned her neck over the gate in her broken-down picket fence to look down the street at the source of the ruckus. There, in front of the small market where the town turned for fresh fruits, vegetables and other groceries, was parked a rather large, ugly truck with dented fenders and a flatbed surrounded by makeshift walls made of slabs of plywood. The cab was painted an off-putti
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