• My fingers just start pushing the buttons for my email password. I hover a moment over the pound key. Only a moment, though. #
• "Thank you! Your call has been processed, and one of our representatives will be working on your case immediately. Have a nice day." #
• I blink at the phone's screen, now announcing, "Call ended". What the hell was that all about? #
• A man brushes past me on his way out the door. Pretty sure his hand touched my ass. Bastard. #
• I walk out the door of the shop, drinking the rest of my mocha. #
• I catch sight of one of the security cameras that were recently installed all across the downtown area to help stop crime. #
• I give it the middle finger. Can't arrest me for that, can they? …I hope not. #
• Guess I need to pack. It won't take long; I don't have all that much stuff. Benefit of not having a life, I suppose. #
• I trudge the seven blocks from the coffeeshop to my apartment. It takes longer than it should. I have no reason to hurry. #
• As I arrive, the Super comes out the front door. He seems surprised to see me. "What, they forget something?" he says. #
• I ignore him. I do most of the time, anyway. Today's just easier than usual. I walk past him and go inside. He follows me. #
• At my door, I reach into my pocket for my key. It's not there. Not in my other pocket. Not in my coat pockets. Not in my backpack. #
• The Super asks, "You lookin' for this?" He holds out a key. My key. It's still got the pink rubber ring around the head of it. #
• I nod, dumbly. #
• He jams it into the keyhole. "You always been quiet, and didn't complain none. I'll give ya five minutes. After that…" #
• His arm and thumb indicate where I should go after five minutes. #
• He throws the door open, but remains standing partways in the doorway. I have to push past him to get inside. #
• He smells like a cultist. #
• I look around at the bare walls. The empty shelves. The barren kitchen cupboard. The Super laughs from the door. #
• "Yeah, they did a pretty good job, dinnit they? Best damn movers I ever seen. In and out in 10 minutes, flat." #
• I should ask, "Who were they?" or "What did they look like?" or "Which way did they go?" I don't. #
• All that comes out is "Guess they got everything… Thanks." #
• The Super looks at me. I mean, really looks at me. Probably the first time he's ever really done so. #
• "Hey, you okay? You look…I dunno. You look kinda messed up." I nod, wordlessly. #
• He looks again, then says, "Alright, don't tell me. Five minutes are up. Time to get lost." #
• I start to go past him, still standing in the doorway, when he shoves a twenty at me. #
• "Don't tell nobody, yeah?" he grumbles, then stalks off. #

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• Coming tomorrow: "All Fall Down: A Gloaming Gap Story" by Jeff Burkholder. Stay tuned! #
• "All Fall Down: A Gloaming Gap Story" by Jeff Burkholder #
• …And with that, I find that it's Thursday afternoon, and I'm standing on Main Street. #
• Nothing to do, no place to go. Aimless. Directionless. #
• It's not that it was all that great of a job. Frankly, it sucked. But the company-provided housing was handy. #
• Now I need to find not only a job, but a place to live. By Monday. #
• Crap. #
• I just start walking. Seems more socially appropriate a thing to do than just standing there, getting cold. #
• Most people I pass largely ignore me, although I caught one middle-aged guy walking with…his wife?…checking me out. Ass. #
• I feel like I hit the "autopilot" switch. My feet have walked me to my favorite coffeeshop, and I go in. #
• A voice mumbles, "Gimme a mocha." Money exchanges hands. #
• trying to figure out who I am, who she is. #
• I've drunk half of the beverage before I even taste it. #
• I'm standing in front of the community bulletin board inside the shop. Band fliers. Dance classes. Unwanted furniture. #
• No "roommate needed" posts. But one catches my eye. #
• "Need help finding the next step in your life? Call today!" #
• God, do I need help with that. Hope it's not a cult. Cultists smell funny. #
• I pull out my cell phone. Punch in the digits. The touchtones play a tune: "Ring Around the Rosie". #
• A voice answers, prerecorded: "Thank you for calling! Is this Hope Bellicek? If so, say 'Yes' or press 1 now." #
• I'm startled at the information – no doubt gleaned from Caller ID – and say "yes". #
• The voice of the woman with the mousy, brown hair sounds soft, distant, disconnected. #
• "Thank you! Using your telephone keypad, please enter your password. #
• For 'Q', press 7. For 'Z', press 9. When finished, press the pound key." #

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“Holding Back the Night: A Gloaming Gap Story” by Jeff Burkholder with George Buss

Dell hated getting wet. Almost as much as he hated being cold. Right now, he was both, but he hardly noticed it. He didn’t notice the red and blue lights shining off the puddles in the road. Flint’s presence beside him barely registered, despite their years of friendship on the force.
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“Curses: A Gloaming Gap Story” by Vicky Burkholder and Jeannine Burkholder

Good afternoon, Gloaming Gap Emporium. Betsy speaking. How may I help you?

I’m sorry. There seems to be some interference on the line; could you repeat that? Perhaps there is a problem with the phone lines.
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“Interview With The Speed-Dater: A Gloaming Gap Story” by Jeannine and Jeff Burkholder

Date #1: Hi, there. Yeah, my name’s Vlad. …No, “Vlad”. It’s a – well, it’s a family name. One of my ancestors was named Vlad, and it’s been passed down. Right, just like “Vlad the Impaler”! That was my ancestor! … Oh, well, nice meeting you, too…
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“The Interview: A Gloaming Gap Story” by Jeff Burkholder

Can I help you? Oh, Mr. Parsons, from the newspaper, is it? Yes, I have you on the schedule to speak to the mayor at 3:00. You’re quite a bit early; if you’d like to take a seat, the mayor’s currently in a meeting.
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“665: A Gloaming Gap Story” by Jeff Burkholder

A subtle buzz on his hip startled Tristan. It was easy to get lost in his strength training, particularly with the sounds of Wagner in his headphones. But the buzz from his pager told him that the Deacon needed to see him. Now.
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“Sleep Tight: A Gloaming Gap Story” by Beth Dombach and Jeannine Burkholder

 
Dr. Frederick von Bedstein squirmed between the storage boxes and a few stray shoes under Emmi’s bed. It was too neat, and she no longer kept fun things under her bed. The only thing the least bit amusing he found was an old bell with bits of string tied to it, and the cat had already informed him that was NOT for him to play with, nor was it Emmi’s to share. Read the rest of this entry »

“Spirits in the Material World: A Gloaming Gap Story” by Vicky Burkholder and Jeff Burkholder

“The Resignation of the Succubus: A Gloaming Gap Story” by Jeannine Burkholder

February 14, 2009

Lamashtu Enterprises
613 Mara Lane, Suite 47
Gloaming Gap, PA 94823

Dear Ms. Lilith:

As you know I have been a trusted colleague and faithful employee here at Lamashtu Enterprises for most of my life. In that amount of time, I can say that I have found my employment here to be, on the whole, highly satisfying. I’m sure, however, that you are intimately acquainted with my increased frustration regarding my current assignment.

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