Finish the story begins with: “They finally made their escape.”
It was go go go.
Pedal to the metal.
Looking back there was no sign their departure had been noticed.
What had begun, as a pleasant weekend had not turned into a horror of potentially biblical proportions.
Their hosts were cordial.
The meals delicious though they did query the crumbed things in the octagonal bowl, the strange howling from the basement, the steam seeping from the locked attic door.
Their explanation of it being an old house with a character all of its own didn’t wash so well.
It was the sensation of noticing their eyes blink horizontally that threw them finally, along with the sudden whip like action of their blue tongues that gave them cause to pack up and make their exit.
As they hurtled east towards home they resolved not to accept another invitation to spend a weekend with the Beachams.