• Jeff South

Blogtober, 21

Word of the day: Mask

Marty wasn’t sure about a church in an old strip mall in a part of town he hadn’t ventured into in a long time. Buck Prince didn’t fit the mold of any pastors he knew. He wore a black t-shirt and faded jeans. His hair was closely cropped and his beard hung to his chest.

“So, Tanner sent you here?” He offered Marty some coffee, but Marty just wanted to cut to the chase.

“I think I have a haunted chair.” Saying it loud made him feel ridiculous. “He said you could help.”

“I can.”

“I thought priests did that. You know, the guys with the collars.”

“I don’t own any collared shirts.” Buck stood and grabbed a satchel hanging on a coat rack behind his desk. “Let’s go see about this chair.”


“She’s home.” Marty pulled into the driveway and pointed to Leslie’s SUV. “You might get some pushback.”

“Not a believer, eh?” Pastor Buck rummaged through this satchel and produced the same device Tanner used. “We’ll get her there.”

Marty led Buck into the house and called out for his wife.

“Leslie? I’ve got a guest.”

“In here,” she called from the dining room.

Marty and Buck found her sitting in the chair, a gruesome grin covered her face like a mask. It was a look Marty had never seen on her before. Unnatural. Evil.

“Nice to meet you,” Buck said. “I’m Buck.”

Leslie remained seated. “I’m Terry.”

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