By S.E. Casey
He left the door unlocked.
All doors were locked the nights the Red Girls visited.
Colonel Emerick Aldrich sipped his cognac. However, he couldn’t taste it. There wasn’t much he could enjoy anymore. Even the heat from the roaring fire felt dull.
He heard the door handle rattle behind him, a pattering of little feet on the hardwood.
They stood him up like a marionette. The old man smiled, he would get to see the Red Girls, a fitting finale to his life. But they didn’t turn him around, forcing him to take one step after another toward the fire.