Owls

The real estate agent was hard selling the house. Harriet wondered why. Though she thought it might have to do with the six foot owl statues flanking the front steps. "How much?"

"Only a quarter of a million dollars, for eight bedrooms. It's a steal. They'll accept any reasonable offer."

"Two hundred thousand is as high as my budget goes." It was a huge house for only one person. She could however rent out the extra rooms and that had the potential of paying the mortgage for her.

"Done. You can sign the offer in five minutes." He tapped on his computer for a moment then left the room.

It seemed awfully quick.

He came back in the room evening up a stack of paper. "Just one thing. I am obligated to make the following disclosure," he cleared his throat,
“The owls are not what they seem.”

"Excuse me?"

"Ahem, this is all strictly anecdotal, but the residents of the house have a tendency to disappear. There is a curse that the owls will consume the residents if an offering of raw meat is not made to each of the owls on the night of the full moon." He chuckled.

Harriet considered things. Her grandmother always told her to respect things like curses. "Make it one hundred seventy-five thousand. I'll need money to pay for quality raw meat once a month..."




prompt quote ▼

Day 10:
“The owls are not what they seem.” —The Giant, Twin Peaks