It was a dark and stormy night...

As Susan lounged on the porch swing of her suburban ranch-style house, lightning flashed in the skies of southwest Missouri making her wonder if her instincts were right.

She picked up her glass of raspberry iced tea and headed into the house, her cheap blue flip flops making a flip floppy sound as she plodded toward the screen door.

“Did I make the right decision,” she murmered to herself as thunder rumbled.

The old house seemed colder than ever. She had always thought it was cold. From the time she was old enough to know what to be scared of, that house gave her the creeps. Seeing shadows...feeling eyes staring at her in every room she went. Especially the cellar, what horrible memories ran through her dreams at night about that damp, dark cellar.

As she closed the door and made her way inside, the sky flashed with lightning, and then suddenly the house went black. No lights. Of course, the one place she didn't want to go was the cellar, but she remembered that's where she left her flashlight. She made her way down the creaky stairs into the darkness.

Susan felt her way down the dark, damp stairs. She hated the dark. As she felt along the stone wall, she was startled by someone coming up the stairs. A flashlight turned on.

“Oh Doug! It's you! You startled me. I thought you went into town for some feed.”

Doug Toburen. Susan had watched Doug for a long time. He sure was good to look at. But she wasn't sure what he was doing in the cellar.

After her initial surprise at seeing Doug coming up the stairs, Susan decided it didn't matter why he was in the cellar. She was just glad he was there. Doug, after all, was the man of her dreams. He was confident but not cocky; narrow at the hip and broad at the shoulder, just the way she liked her men.

As her eyes adjusted to the light and she imagined what the night could bring, she realized someone - or SOMETHING - wearing a bright red, satin-trimmed tutu was behind Doug on the stairs.

Along with its bright red tutu, it had dark circles under its dark red eyes. It looked like a female with beautiful pale skin, and her hair was a light honey brown. Except she was immortally beautiful, like no person Susan had ever seen before. But there seemed something wrong with her.

Fear struck in every part of Susan telling her the woman was completely dangerous. It was almost like it came out in vibrating waves rolling toward Susan. The woman was hiding in the darker shaded part of the stairs so Susan don't think Doug saw her behind him.

Susan tried to warn Doug as the woman gracefully crept up behind him when suddenly lightning flashed and thunder crashed, shaking the house at its foundation. Susan reached for Doug's hand as she turned to race back up the steps.

But, there was nothing there.

She gasped - the vision of Doug was an illusion.

Lightning flashed again and Susan saw Doug really was on the stairs. The strobe light effects of the lightning made Doug look like he was part of a disco dance scene from “Saturday Night Fever.”

But it wasn't a flashlight he held in his hand.

Suddenly, Susan and Doug heard someone frantically knocking on the front door. They raced up the steps hand-in-hand.

When they got to the door, they found Old Man Peterson out of breath and soaking wet from the storm.

“You're not going to believe it! You're just not going to believe it! Come quick!” Old Man Peterson shouted.

They raced out into the storm frantically shouting at Old Man Peterson’s back. The rain whipped their faces as they chased the old man into the darkness.

As the lightning cracked, they could see the shape of the barn looming ahead. As Mr. Peterson forced the barn door open, the wind tore the screams from their throats as their eyes focused on the woman with beautiful pale skin and honey brown hair wearing a bright red, satin-trimmed tutu who stood there holding the thing - not a flashlight - that had been in Doug's hand just moments before.

On the woman's feet were Susan's cheap blue flip flops.

Old Man Peterson, Susan - now barefoot - and Doug with the narrow hips and broad shoulders were mesmerized by the woman's dark red eyes with dark circles beneath. The flip flops made a flip floppy sound as she moved toward the rain-soaked trio at the door.

Lightning lit the sky and thunder rattled the barn as her scarlet lips parted and she began to speak.

“What did you do, Susan? What did you do???” the woman with the pale skin and the honey brown hair spoke with a raspy voice. “Tell Doug with the narrow hips, the broad shoulders and the strong chin where the golden ballet slippers are and your flip flops will be free.”

Susan thought to herself, “He really does have a strong chin. Man, he is so hot.”

And with that, the pale woman with the honey brown hair disappeared into the night.

Doug looked into Susan face. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I don't know where they are! I don't, Doug! You have to believe me!”

Doug held her closely and said, “Everything will be all right. We will get to the bottom of this. I'm on your side.”

Old Man Peterson looked horrified by what had just happened. He began to reach into his coat pocket, then he fell to the ground with a thud.

Dead.

Doug and Susan couldn't believe their eyes! What could have happened to Old Man Peterson? Doug looked at Old Man Peterson. Then Doug saw that in Old Man Peterson's hand, he was clutching a note. Doug pried the note from his wrinkly old hand. Doug opened the note and read it.

“Read it, Doug,” Susan said.

Doug said, “It says: ‘Don't trust the power of the golden ballet slippers. It's a curse this wretched woman concocted to capture the fancy of young handsome men.’”

Susan didn't care about golden ballet slippers or some wretched woman in a bad outfit. She just wanted her blue flip flops back and for Doug to look at her with the same longing his gaze had revealed as he stared at the red tutu. Lightning crackled and thunder roared but they were no match for Susan's fury about her stolen shoes and Doug's lustful stares.

She turned and stomped barefoot through the mud puddles toward the house.

Suddenly, through the din of the storm, Susan heard Doug pleading, “Susan! Wait!”

She stopped and turned, her rain-soaked t-shirt clinging to her every curve.

Doug rushed to her and breathlessly said, “You are pretty, intelligent and extremely sexy.”

Susan turned toward Doug, realizing he was just feeding her a line, and shouted “I'm not falling for that!”

She raced into the house and up the stairs, her bare feet leaving wet footprints on the floor as she sped toward the kitchen for a sip of raspberry tea, then raced to her closet where she had a pair of brand new, bright red, satin trimmed, toe-pinching shoes, a perfect match for the immortally beautiful woman's tutu. She grabbed the shoes and ran back down the stairs to the kitchen where the woman in the red tutu suddenly appeared, grinning broadly as she traded the blue flip flops for the red shoes.

“Thank you,” the woman squealed as she piouretted down the damp, dark cellar steps.

Susan slammed the cellar door and said aloud: “My instincts were right; buying those shoes was a good idea!”

THE END

Contributing Authors: Susan Wade, Lori Anne Locke, Shannon Smith, Alexis Locke, Wayne Nale, Melinda Arnold, Pamela Clark.

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