The Landlady

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I followed her up the stairs, but there was something unsettling about how quiet the house was. I hadn’t heard any sounds—no voices, no footsteps. It was as if the whole house was holding its breath. She showed me to a room at the top of the stairs.“Are there many other guests tonight?” I asked, trying to make conversation. The landlady smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, no. Just you, dear. I like it that way. Quiet. Peaceful.”That should have made me feel more relaxed, but there was something about her words thatfelt off. I couldn’t put my finger on it.
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She invited me to join her for dinner. I was too tired to refuse, and besides, she was so friendly. We sat at the table, and we started talking about my trip. But soon, her questions shifted to something else—something alittle odd. She started talking about the two young men who had stayed in her bed and breakfast before me. “They stayed with me for a long time. They’re still here,” she said, her smile widening just a little. “But in a different form now." I felt my stomach tighten.I excused myself after dinner, feeling moreuncomfortable than I had expected. “I think I’ll turn in for the night,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Of course, dear,” she said, her smile never wavering. “Sleep well.”

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