Curse of the Vendetta Horror Trilogy

Then, the children turned to stare at him. The adult couple was engaged in conversation with the flamboyant concierge. From his perch upon the bar stool, some twenty yards away in the lounge, Burton drew back in horror. Their faces were so old & their hair was white. The sinister eyes leveled at him were glowing from under the cowls. The effect was positively terrifying. Suddenly, Burton realized that they weren’t wearing makeup or costumes. These were the infamous twins that had brought them here. His bowels turned to water as the children smiled at him & telepathically conveyed their evil message. Their childish, giggly, troll-like voices were distorted & reverberated inside his head. "Stupid son-of-a-bitch, you did this to us. Now, you’re going to pay!"

Burton’s eyes began to bulge as his throat constricted. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. Gasping for air, he knocked his glass over & fell from the bar stool, squirming on the floor. It felt as if someone... a very powerful & invisible someone was choking the life from his body. All the while, he could hear the children laughing inside his head. His vision was dimming, but, Burton never took his eyes from the tiny monstrosities. A woman sitting at a table near him, screamed. The man sitting opposite her rushed to Burton’s aid. "Call an ambulance. This man’s in trouble!"

Mr. Joyce & the couple in the lobby had turned to see what the commotion was all about. The tall man immediately looked down at the children. He muttered. "Stop it...right this minute! Do you hear me?"

Mr. Joyce looked confused & perplexed. Wringing his hands, he rushed to the telephone. The lovely woman smiled & touched the children on the shoulders. Stooping, she whispered something into their ears. The pressure from around Burton’s neck was released. He lay on the floor for a few moments gasping for breath, like a fish out of water. His throat felt raw, as if it & his lungs were on fire. Still smiling, the beautiful woman nodded in his direction & ushered the giggling children towards the elevator.

The tall, elegant gentleman extended his hand & virtually lifted Burton from the floor. He was fairly slender, yet, it was obvious from his touch that he was extremely strong. He said. "Just a case of the vapors. It must be the heat. I’m terribly sorry, Sir. It appears that New Orleans doesn’t agree with you. Bartender! Give this man a drink to soothe his burning throat."

Then, introducing himself to Burton with a snappy but, antiquated bow. He added. "I am Brett Caesar, the owner of this establishment. Please, allow my staff to provide whatever comforts we can to correct this unfortunate situation. Do you need a doctor?" Gently, he touched Burton’s throat & all discomfort was immediately alleviated.

Backing away from him, Burton quickly downed the shot of bourbon offered to him by the bartender & headed towards the door. "No! I’m fine. Like you said, it must have been the heat. Thanks." He fled across the lobby & out the front French double doors.

Once on the street he scrambled into a taxi. "Mt. Moriah Cemetery... on the double!" He cried. Suddenly, the cemetery where all of his friends were waiting to perform their bizarre little ritual didn’t seem like such a bad place to be after all.