The Silk Crypt

My mother ran a silk nightgown boutique.

Her nightgowns were outrageously expensive—twenty thousand for a short cut, forty thousand for a long one.

Yet female clients flocked to her place in an endless stream. They claimed my mother's silk was exceptional, that slipping into one of her gowns left your skin glowing and your complexion radiant.

My older sister, Emily, desperately wanted to wear one, but Mom strictly forbade it.

Emily refused to accept that. She planned to sneak into the back warehouse and steal one for herself.

Late that night, strange sounds drifted up from the warehouse.