Wednesday's Words: an excerpt from Small Town Secrets

    Welcome to Wednesdays where I share a snippet from one of my stories using the previous day's word from the New York Times' game. WORDLE. But there's a twist--and a prize. If you can tell me yesterday's WORDLE, I'll send you a copy of my short story, "The Encounter."

Don't comment on this post, but send an email to kristyswords@yahoo.com.

Here's an excerpt from Small Town Secrets, now available in Kindle Unlimited.

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I punched my pillow, wondering why I was awake. I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand and read the time. 2:29 a.m. Rolling onto my back, I watched light flicker across the ceiling. I bolted upright and dashed to the window. Someone or something had tripped the motion light detector at Sadie’s.

I jumped into my jeans, threw a sweater over my head, and shoved my feet into a pair boots. I only hesitated for a moment at the gun case. Sadie had obviously some strong opinions about guns, but I had strong opinions about her safety. I grabbed the shotgun, made sure it was loaded, and bolted out the door.

The cold took my breath, but I didn’t stop to button up. I sprinted across the pasture, my jacket flapped around me like wings. Through the window, I watched shadows caper across the kitchen walls. I inserted the key into the lock as quietly as humanly possible, and pushed open the door. It swung without a sound.

Something or someone scrambled in the kitchen. It sounded like a dozen nails scratching the wood. I cocked the gun and raised it.

Buster hurtled down the stairs, howling. Footsteps followed.

“Sadie?” I froze in the mudroom, straining to hear Sadie swearing beneath her breath. A cool breeze swept through the room—she must have opened a door or a window. More scurrying, more swearing... Curiosity drew me to the kitchen. Sadie stood in the center of the room, brandishing a broom, while two fat raccoons scrambled around her feet.

Relief made me laugh and drop the gun onto the counter. “Where did they come from? How did they get in? I thought your mom had this place as secure as Fort Knox.”

“I don’t know, but they can’t stay!” Sadie waved her broom, but the raccoons escaped contact.

“Do you have any vinegar?” I strode into the kitchen.

“Stay back! They might be dangerous!” Sadie tried sweeping her broom across the floor, but the raccoons ignored her and jumped onto the kitchen table.

“Maybe, but probably not.” I opened a cupboard I thought might have supplies and pulled out a bottle of apple cider vinegar. “Remember, they’re probably more scared of you than you are of them.” I pulled off the lid, and the rancid smell filled the air. Shaking the bottle, I sprayed vinegar over the table and doused the cookies.

The creatures bolted out the open door.