{"id":255295,"date":"2026-07-13T04:11:32","date_gmt":"2026-07-13T01:11:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/buxton-and-other-stories-dave-zeltserman\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T04:11:32","modified_gmt":"2026-07-13T01:11:32","slug":"buxton-and-other-stories-dave-zeltserman","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/buxton-and-other-stories-dave-zeltserman\/","title":{"rendered":"Buxton And Other Stories – Dave Zeltserman"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Lisa stepped backwards and then turned and ran for the front door as if she were running for her life, a full-blown panic swallowing her up. She had the door open when she heard Mitchell saying, \u201cIt’s letting you leave. I guess it made its choice. I do love you, Lisa. I\u2019m so sorry for what will be happening to you next.\u201d Somehow, she ran from the house to her car without collapsing to the ground. As she drove away, her heart pounded so hard it was all she could hear.<\/p>\n

She had enough presence of mind to realize she couldn\u2019t go home. Mitchell knew where she lived, and the police would have to arrest him before she\u2019d feel safe doing that. She stopped off at a dingy roadside motel. She would call the police from there. When she walked into the motel office, the clerk on duty looked at her with concern and asked if she was okay.<\/p>\n

She was far from okay. She understood fully the bullet she had dodged, but she told him she was. Her hand trembled as she picked up her room key. When she opened the door to her room, the sound of canned laughter filtered out. Someone had left the TV set on.<\/p>\n

She stepped into the room and saw the same Hollywood prop that had been in Mitchell\u2019s home was now perched on the edge of the bed, the bed sagging under its weight. What she thought was an immobile sculpture twisted it\u2019s massive, monstrous head and stared at her. She could see all of hell burning in its eyes.<\/p>\n

And then the demon turned back to stare at the TV. 1kitap1.com\/en A rumbling inside made Ghengi nibble halfheartedly on the cotton fiber. It didn’t help much to ease his hunger, but it was all he had, and he knew it could be days before he had anything else. Ghengi looked at what was left. Thin strands of cotton connected to that foul rubber padding. The cotton would be gone soon, probably before dark. Ghengi prayed that an insect would haplessly crawl within striking distance. Insects were good.<\/p>\n

If Ghengi tried hard enough he could imagine they were really pink wiggly things. Of course, they weren’t pink wiggly things. They were in fact only a poor imitation. But Ghengi knew they were as close as he could come\u2014as close as he could allow himself to come\u2014to those wondrous epicurean delights. With a start, Ghengi realized he was salivating; he had been imagining the taste of a pink wiggly thing.<\/p>\n

That was dangerous. If he dwelled too much on it, he would weaken. He wouldn’t be able to resist them the next time they came to brazenly challenge him.<\/p>\n

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Digital Edition Copyright \u00a92025 by Dave Zeltserman All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be used, reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.<\/p>\n

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author\u2019s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, companies, institutions, events or locales is entirely coincidental.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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