Welcome to our 2018 50 Word Horror Story Halloween Contest! Here is our BIGGEST contest this year. You know how much we love Halloween, and instead of giving you promotional money, we are giving out hard cash. We’ve decided to change the monetary prize to the 50 word contest. In the past our 500 word contest would carry a promotion prize, and publication, but honestly we didn’t get the amount of submissions we wanted. This year, we want it right here on this page. We are giving out 500$ to the winner of this contest! The deadline is October 28, 2018. We will announce the winners on Halloween Night in our movie and chat. There will be a 2nd and 3rd place winner, but there is no money given for those positions.
Here are the rules of our contest
Stories:
- Must be high quality horror stories
- Must be 50 words or under
- Must be a complete story
- Have to be in before our deadline.
- Deadline is October 28, 2018
- Enter as many stories as you like!
- Post your story in the comments below.
- Scariest Story Wins
We will announce the winners in a movie chat night, like every Halloween.
What you win:
- Your story will be placed on a tile and shared on our social networks
- You will get a winning announcement post with links to your books and/or website
- You will win $500 cash.
We hope to also do a print issue this year, but no promises, we’ve had a lot of trouble with this in the past. We want your best 50 word horror story! POST THEM BELOW DO NOT SEND EMAILS.
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This Is No Dream
Something really scary is happening. I’m being strangled on my bed. My heart is pounding and my body drips with sweat as I fight my attacker. But I’m losing.
“I’ve always wanted to feel what it’s like to take someone’s life,” he rasps into my ear.
This is no dream.
As the cold wind and rain whipped around my blood spattered dress, my blood drained from my ravaged neck,and the smoke wisps trailed from my gun, I peered down at the werewolf who, in one fatal swipe of his claw, had ended my life as I had ended his.
As the zombie slashes into my flesh, I feel the heat of his rancid breath as he sinks his fangs into my neck. I hear my screams as my lifeblood drains from me and I fade into death. The last thing I see is my death in his yellow eyes.
A few minutes after taking a bite of fudge wrapped in foil the stooped and smirking man had dropped into my Halloween bag, I knew something was terribly wrong. A horrible pain began throbbing in my stomach. I became dizzy and disoriented. Why had he done this to me?
I walk past the house, the wind blows my hair around blocking my view for just a moment but that is all it takes. When I wipe my long locks from my eyes the sight of it, is the last I see and the scream that deafens the night…
I can smell its putrid scent through the door. Heavy footfalls circling my cabin in a remote wilderness area causes my heartbeat to accelerate, because I’m afraid and unarmed. Wood knocks not far away signal it’s not alone. When a terrifying vocalization shocks my nervous system…that’s when I know.
Halloween, my favorite night. I answered the doorbell.
“You’re supposed to dress up,” I said.
“I’m a pyschopath. No costume is needed.”
I threw my hands in front of my face and screamed.
Walking along the path, I inhaled the sweet scent of autumn. I reached for a beautiful falling leaf-and realized it wasn’t red; it was blood-soaked. I looked up in horror at the dripping tree in front of me before I felt a blow to the back of my head.
Even from a distance, I could see the exceptional detail of the carved pumpkins. Fascinating. I strolled up to the farmhouse to get a better look. Oh my god. They were heads. Human heads. The carver turned around slowly. “Ah, just in time for dinner.”
When she’d stepped into their “honeymoon” suite the week before, she’d expected champagne glasses, sweeping views of the mountain vista, and perhaps a few romantic picnics by the cliffside. She’d hardly have expected to be holed up in the once-stainless steel kitchen, clutching a paring knife and praying for her life. She could hear the scratch of nails on the ceiling above her head. A sob choked her throat. She had loved her husband, even when the darkness of the attic had begun to touch him, to deform him. Now there was nothing left of her husband to love. There was only a monster. She clutched the knife tighter to her, reaching around to grab a steak knife as fast as she could, all the while trying to keep the kitchen door in the corner of her eye.
When she turned, the door hung open.
The wind howled through the trees as she ran blindly through the woods. Crouching beside a stump to hear if he was still chasing her. She felt his hands tighten around her throat from behind and as tears streamed down her face, she prayed that is was all a terrible nightmare.
Shadows flit across the basement. An overpowering stench arrives and dissipates as these shadows appear and disappear. Books fall from shelves by themselves. Weird voices come from behind the walls. I can feel an invisible presence blowing its sepulcher breath on my neck. All I want is to be untied.
“Rosemary’s Miscarriage”
I don’t cry but hum along with the vacuum’s garbled whir. I finish the living room, inspect my work, see satisfying vacuum lines. They’re drenched in the blood of my miscarriage.
He touches my back. “We’ll try again.”
Now I cry, quietly.
“Make me a sandwich,” he says.
“Beyond”
A ,wheezing, noise fills my head. It is me, gasping through my, collapsed, windpipe. My toes rake the sand . If only I could reach. I saver the sun light, shining through the burlap sack. It turns to darkness. I listen, but nothing. Suddenly, I’m not alone, as my victims whisper.
My feet curl into the blanket as I try to block the crying sound of my wife outside. It seems like all she’s been doing the last few days. It wouldn’t be bothering me this much if it’s not for the fact that my wife’s dead six days ago.
Lara ran frantically through the house trying to find her crying baby. The construction crew made it hard to hear. She rounded the corner as they uncovered the body of a woman with an unborn child in the walls. She suddenly remembered that cold autumn day when her husband snapped.
Timmy has always loved to dance. The elegance, the rhythm to each step, it makes him smile. Suddenly, the woman in his arms slumps. He growls and lets her fall. Her corpse splashes in the pool of blood. He lets out a disappointed sigh, “They always die too soon.”
I squinted sleepily, trying to find the source of the creaking floorboards, but there was no one there. I forced myself to close my eyes only for them to snap open when a clammy hand grazed my cheek. All I saw was darkness as a voice whispered, “Sleep my child.”
Keep off the Tracks
A low whistle echoed throughout the hollar. The train huffed through swirls of steam. The loudspeaker crackled. “This is your Conductor. Folks, we’re making an unscheduled stop.” Passengers poured off the train. A whirring roar, the forest overtaken by shiny chainsaws. The Conductor cackled, “Folks, this is your last stop!”
” Veil”
A, silky, black veil, the ocean’s surface separates me from a strange world. As I watch the ripple’s distort the moon, as if a grimaced face, I feel… nothing. Our anniversary, she was so valuable. Yet, the stillness, as her final glance passes through the veil, confirms her worthlessness
” Cold Morning”
Mother tells me to keep moving but everything hurts. I miss home and wonder if I will ever go back.This land is grey, quiet and everyone is somber. We are lead into a, tightly, crowded room, a german soldier slams the door. In the darkness, I see an angel.
“The slashes were left to right in a downward motion, from a back-swing to generate more power. This was to knock the victim down as well- more manageable that way.”
“How do you now that detective?”
“Because, that’s what I did. Now hold still and this will be over quickly.”
Title for the 50 Word Anthology: THE NIGHT-SHIFT
Correction:
“The slashes were left to right in a downward motion, from a back-swing to generate more power. This was to knock the victim down as well- more manageable that way.”
“How do you know that detective?”
“Because, that’s what I did. Now hold still and this will be over quickly.”
Title for the 50 Word Anthology: THE NIGHT-SHIFT
Halloween invitation
Theme: Hell or heaven
Menu card name :
Special Spooky Party Menu.
Starter:
Blood Soup with Cheese Croutons & Fried Nail with elbow Cluster.
Main courses:
Twisted leg With crispy Shoulder
& Roasted Pepper teeth with Blood drink.
King Nose Sizzler with Sticky Ears. Desserts:
Pudding Skin Custard Creme.
I was watching TV from the mirror I can see the front door, there was a swoosh of air, realised I was alone at home and I saw a tall black figure jiggling the door it opens and crashed closed but it never opened
There’s a cold burst of air, I am asleep, a whooshing mechanical sound rumbles down the pitch dark passage way it stands right by my head very large pitch black eyes glare at me laughing with the stench of death, rotting decaying meat like garbage says I GOT YOU! !!
I step into the shower
with the same fear every time,
when my eye lids close.
Frantically I scrub away the soap in my hair,
cautious of my surroundings.
Because we’ve all seen something,
heard something.
When home alone,
when all alone.
But I never thought to look up.
The Boatman
Exploring the baked-dry lakebed, we’d lifted the crumbling husk of a rowboat – disturbing broken oars, a skull, a rusted lantern. We ran as a sudden deluge turned dust to mud.
The storm rages on, the lake a seething black sea. A flickering light dances on the waves, drawing ever closer.
Must go.
Now.
Screw the doctor, Gonna chew his hand off anyway, once I am done with her.
–And by the way, Mom, your uterus tastes like shit.
Happy Birthday to me…Happy Birthday to me…..
I thought I was dead.
I woke up, eyes still closed; they couldn’t open. Though, I sensed everything. I could feel the needle going through my skin inside my mouth… there was tugging from the thread. I tried to scream, but I was paralyzed.
Someone was sewing my mouth shut.
The scrape of his tongue on my bare stomach sends ripples across my skin. He towers over me, his breath heated. He breathes deeply of my essence, then dips his head. Pain, like a knife against my ribs. This is what it is to be eaten by a lion.
She couldn’t save them all, but God how she wished she could. Saving herself was the primary objective now. Her phone had been smashed against the wall. There would be no calling for help. The screams from the dying followed her as she ran from the house.
He walked slowly down the sidewalk. The cemetery to his right was awash in sunlight. No reason to fear the dead. His incessant cough began again. Looking down, he saw something on his leg. He paused to brush it off but could not. Instead, it began to grow. And climb.
A true story:
He held the gun to my head. Silver and bright, like the moon during the depths of winter. “If your boyfriend doesn’t pass, you know we have to kill you right?” Oh, I know. To have your fate lie entirely with the actions of another….I feel cold.
Darkened woodland sprawled in surrounding view as grip tightened around a fainting candlelight; the neon beams striking steadfast into the engulfing void, sinking quickly. Sounds suddenly approached calmed ears – a crackling essence from deep within the heart of this insidious wilderness; laughs of lunacy rang out on the forest floor.
A thought flashing in mind: the jump is high, though I shall not die – for surely my end will be met in hiding from THE BEAST. Emerging from the greyed cover-space of sloppy coffins, air rushed the nostrils, smelling of exotic bloodborne pathogens, mixed mammal plasmas; dioxin fumes morphed rain radiant skies. Standing amongst the dead, sensed a stilled young woman, staring into her frosted-marble spectacles and the royalty blue crested onto her junior lips.
Commencing the ceaseless screams, connecting a long, narrowed corridor. To tear a fair soul, pouring it’s demonic graces thoughtfully into the shuttered domain. In life, in death – looms the darkness of THE BIRTH WOMAN, stirred by the great powers of evil; & from The Demoned Shire – surely slaughtered there The Cretan Witches, where lunar light trembles into mirrored, hazily infinite seas.
A murdered feeling crept into beating spine, leaving a jagged impression, with notes of misfortune and sour disease. The Shire sprouted into the air, from a foundation of prehistoric rocks and decayed homo-sapien remains. Of the sunken sea, serpents sprang feverishly into the blazing neon of the night-moon sky.
Isolated in a cabin during a period of stagnant creativity, beginning to feel that a demonic entity of ancient origins is nearby. Encounters it outside, in rinsing her hands in the water of a frozen lake. A shadow appears to have formed at the bottom of the frozen lake, outlined by an obsidian-black silhouette. The figure jumps from the lake’s liquid bottom to the solid subsurface.
Bloodied, serrated long-jaws snap in airspace not one millimeter from your right eye socket. A brief hint of its chompers paralyzed frosted human nostrils, sour by the stench of dried bone-marrow saliva. You clip the door locked, sliding the heavy metal bolt in X-Axis fear, banging on the door as goes THE BEAST from behind it.
He had a look in his eyes that she had seen before. It was a sickly sort of glee a predator has when they spot their prey and it was in that moment she lost all hope. The sheriff took off his belt and she pretended to be somewhere else.
I was five the first time she spoke to me. She said she would protect me, and she did. My father was always abusive. She caught him in the act. His body was never found.
She’s my favorite dolly in the whole world.
I’m twenty-seven now.
I still have her.
The door opened. She released the breath she was holding and screamed. She added another tally mark to the wall with the blood pooled by her feet, staggered forward, and tried the door again. The door opened. Tally mark. The door opened. A new light, she fell to her knees.
Bistrian finally regained consciousness. He felt as his arm swung and his grip was tight. The thick blade cut through her flesh before he could stop it. She collapsed and he dropped the blade. “M-master.” He said, his voice broken. The feeling flooded his mind again. He could only watch…
“Go check the chickens. Eggs and more scratch.”
I walked through the snow towards the coop.
Something moved, it was me.
I was dragged across the snow, I couldn’t feel it,
I just watched the coop get farther and farther away.
The snow was crimson,
My body, broken.
It left.
Tourists loved the decorated pots she made from river clay, never dreaming each design was a curse carved with the broken bones of her ancestors, sick slaves thrown overboard three centuries before, not even when, after they got home, the fever claimed them, too.
Aunt Marie taught me to be a vegetarian. She said it was evil to kill God’s creatures to eat. When my office mates played a trick hiding meat in a cake I ate, I was furious. Surprise! Barbara, the ringleader,was missing when I served cake for Anne’s birthday.
“How do you feel?”
“Better. A story,Mommy.”
“Tommy the pumpkin.”
“Tommy? That’s my name.”
“Tommy was to become a jack o lantern. They cut out triangles for eyes,nose and one big mouth with two teeth.”
Tommy coughed.
Mommy screamed.
Tommy’s face had been craved out like a pumpkin.”
“What? Mommy?”
Susie Finally Gets First Place.
She was destined to be second at everything in life.
She was the second child,
Second daughter, and second oldest.
She couldn’t catch a break.
Until one night where she placed fate into her own hands.
With a bottle of sleeping pills.
And became the first child to die.
What I Did For Love
He cheated on me.
I know he did.
And even though he wouldn’t admit,
His mistress did,
Right before I threw her off the Golden Gate Bridge.
Now he knows not to cross me ever again.
It’s crazy, the things that we do for love.
The water turns black, you swim.
Escape turns to struggle.
Like mud, the Lake grips you.
The more you swim the more the black covers you.
Vision blured, breath chocked.
You feel heavier, slower.
The black embraces you as it swallows you down.
The Lake doesn’t want you to go.
The Victim
I stand, nonchalant-like, against the van, watching for the right one. Ah, there; headphones in, staring down into a blue-lit screen, fingers pecking…. oblivious. Perfect.
He never sees me. Just one firm rap and I haul him into the back. Easy-peasy.
Maybe one more, then I’ll call it a night….
Perception is reality.
A good lesson…
He hummed as he dug the knife deep into her cheek; blessing her with a bloody and permanent smile. She would stop fighting soon; her fault for wearing that disgusting frown. She was his masterpiece…
His perception…her reality… together forever.
Sonia tries to contact Maya to find what she wants. She gets a call from Maya, saying that the spirit wants to kill them all, nothing else. The terrified group then discover that Sonia is actually dead and Maya is speaking through her. Neena asks the time from Neel,
“We are heading out now.”
Joanne nods gleefully but Stella is hesitant. “What about the knock-knock killer?”
“Joanne, stop scaring your sister.”
They walk out.
*Bang*
*Bang*
A knock at the door?
She hears a shriek and turns to her sister, suddenly bleeding on the floor.
*Gasp*
An open door?
A bird begins to fly off the windowsill
“Bye-bye little birdie.”
“Bye-bye little girl.”
“Woah! You can speak?” She says stumbling as it returns to the window.
It changes expression, almost smiling.
“I can do more than that.”
Two girls pass.
“Ew what is it eating?”
“Probably a mouse.”
I didn’t think I was capable of this. Yes, he humiliated me. He made me feel like nothing but dirt on his shoes. I guess he should’ve known this would happen. That I would sink low through his digs on me. The blood though…. where do I put the body?
Lance watched his best friend’s head roll next to his feet. He jumped from behind the door and swung the machete at the silhouette. Lance jabbed the air while dodging lightning rays. His blade connected with one. It bounced off the ceiling hitting the boogeyman’s heart. His green body exploded.
Mike watched the zombie eat three meaty brains and an exposed intestine. Minutes passed. A sneeze built in Mike’s throat and ripped out his mouth, echoing throughout the room. The zombie’s yellow eyes landed on Mike. The monster howled and lunged forward. Mike pushed up from the floor and ran.
The teenagers giggled as they followed their tour guide into the historic cemetery. “Beware,” he said, “for within these walls is a long dead cat whose scratch will take your life.” The grin on one girl’s face departed as she slid one hand over the blood-tinged mark on the other.
You were banished to an abandoned island
It’s been 4 years, and you know every crevice
You wake up to sticks cracking under weight
An inhuman shadow dances across the tint lining
flames begin to envelope the site
then you see his eyes, deaths eyes
A child’s voice is heard. I trace the pitter patter of footsteps overhead. The couple has no children. Conversations ensue. The cat scratches at the door. Turning the handle, I hear, outside, a little girl. At the same time, the adjacent front door closes. I see only my neighbor.
12:01 am and you’re approaching your mirror. Your eyes feel irritated. Flummoxed, you glance up at yourself and your heart stops. Maggots begin pouring from your tear ducts and as you wipe them away, the room around you begins to shrink. You’re left with maggots and limited oxygen.
Your eyes blearily open, expecting familiar scenery but instead are met with blood an inch deep on your floor. Next to you lies your dead loved ones. But those images in your head, they weren’t real! Only they were and you’re a killer with no idea how.
I jerked awake when my bed dipped besides me. Still disoriented from sleep, I see a blurry figure sat over me. Even in darkness, I knew that he’s looking at me, grinning.
“You should’ve stay asleep.”
Was all he said before lifted up his arm whit a knife in it.
I jerked awake when my bed dipped besides me. Still disoriented from sleep, I saw a blurry figure sat over me. Even in darkness, I knew that he’s looking at me, grinning.
“You should’ve stay asleep.”
Was all he said before lifted up his arm whit a knife in it.
‘Slick slack’. The bracken beneath the feet. Wind blowing like a jagged knife, cut against the face. Sunken limbs, bones, eyes deranged. The tremble in the spine of a threat. Pressure pushing, pulsating on the heart.
We disappear.
We all believed in the Halloween Man, because he always appeared out of nowhere this night each year in our remote village deep in the desert. He smelled of sulfur, grave dirt and tombstones while selecting one person to go with him…never to return. This Halloween, he selected me.
Her mother would enter the room to abuse the child. Her daughter had given her the key to the flat. God only knew. The old hag was going increasingly mad trying to catch her children. Like some bad old spirit from slavery she hovered- a demon to the last.
There he was. Playing the master again. Voice booming, trying to dominate. She imagined dancing on his face in spike heels then leaving him alone.
The stranger emerges from a dark alley, walking casually, carrying a gleaming machete. He focuses his attention on the nearly deserted street, seeking an unwilling victim and someone to share his blood sport fascination. He practices by slashing at the air. There is no hurry. No hurry at all.
I’m injured at the bottom of an abandoned well where I’ve been dumped after being assaulted by a deranged mental hospital escapee. It ‘s dark, damp and freezing without clothes. Then a rope drops down and his terrifying voice begins repeating, “Dearie, dearie, don’t despair. I forgot to collect your hair.”
We made a lottery pact–whoever won would split with the other. Amazingly,Sandy won, but when I saw her coming towards me with an axe, ,I knew she had another split in mind.. I had suspected this might happen and I had a surprise for her too…
Maybe it’s the mega millions mania, but this story hit me as both hilarious and horrifying.
Our first stepfather didn’t believe in Halloween trick or treating. He said it was “begging” and we weren’t beggars. He threw our costumes in the trash. Mom tried to protest but she was too cowed. Andy went in the attic and came back with Dad’s old rusty Civil War sword….
Abduction
Eeny Meeny Miny Moe, catch a human by its toe.
If it hollars…
–Goody Goody! We love hollaring…love hollaring…yes…yes….
Oh yessss….
Vittles
“I thought my mother was going to be here for dinner.”
“She is.”
“Oh, okay. So, what are we having?”
“Pot roast.”
They say a person’s head remains conscious
for fifteen seconds after being severed from the body.
Start counting.
I thought there was something a little strange about the nurse the Company hired to give on-site flu shots. “Call this number if you have any weird reactions,” she said giving us each a card with a Halloween pumpkin on it. “Like what?” I asked. “You’ll see” she snickered…
“What are you gonna be for Halloween?” “A vampire sucking blood?” “That’s not scary!” “A zombie who eats people” “Old hat”. “An Alien from Outer Space who kidnaps people”. “Yawn, so boring” “A corrupt politician who tries to eliminate Social Security and Medicare?” “Now THAT’S Really Scary!”.
Maria cried when someone died.
When she walked into the bedroom, blood caked the floors and walls. Her fiance’s heart carved out of his chest. Her Ex-boyfriend feasting on it with a growl and a smile.
She used to cry when someone died.
But this time she smiled.
She stayed at the bar too late, drowning her sorrows, praying for her husband back. The graveyard would have been a good shortcut, except for that figure following her. She tripped over a tombstone, her pursuer looming over her. He came back! She smiled as he choked her to death.
A bump in the night. His eyes open in complete darkness. The maddening noise continues. It is a heartbeat, but not his.
“Shut up,” he tells the corpse on the floor. He pulls the blanket up with blood-stained hands and prays for a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow’s work requires rest.
That cat creeps around outside every night. It belonged to the woman who died in this house. When it looks into the window, my goosebumps tell me she’s watching through her cat’s eyes. It never eats. Me either, because I’m too afraid to leave. I guess I’ll die here too.
You kept screaming to them
All you could do was yell and pound and cry and scratch
You kept screaming to them-but they couldn’t hear a thing
Your throat went raw and your arms grew heavy,
your legs gave out and your head went steady
It’s dark in the kitchen, so dark you can only see silhouettes and you do. You see a silhouette of a man turning around. Just as he turns you grab a kitchen knife and drive into him, killing him. As you turn around you’re driven through by a kitchen knife.
Going Home
I know when we’re getting close to my hometown. The smell hits you first. It’s god-awful, putrid and sulfur-like, as if the town itself is decomposing. Not as bad as the bodies they find sometimes, but almost. It repulses others. They don’t understand that to me, it smells like home.
Supposed to be the thing of dreams for newlyweds Chelsea and Dean.
Chelsea’s being a drama queen, a raging bitch, it seems.
Swimming in the ocean blue, ignoring the sign in her view.
Thoughts of whose-fault in her head while blood’s between her legs.
Sharks attack, now Chelsea’s dead.
The phone rings.
“You will die tonight,” a monotonous, somber voice says.
You scream. It laughs.
You wake up, reach for the lamp. Just a nightmare.
The power’s out.
Fine.
The doors are locked.
You are safe.
Secure.
Nothing could possibly get in.
“Or out,” the same voice whispers.
The record player continues spinning, oblivious to the stranger.
“I know (I know)…”
She shouldn’t have invited him in.
He just seemed so harmless.
“You belong…”
She can’t breathe.
Her fingers dig into the carpet.
“To somebody new…”
She only wanted to be polite.
“But tonight…
You belong to me.”
She dreams of a convertible. Hair blowing in the wind, sun hot on her cheek as she cruises through tiny seaside towns.
Or maybe a rollercoaster. The metal car screeching around loop after loop to shrieks of delight.
If only the stitches circling the base of her neck were stronger.
I picked up the axe. The silver blade reflected the blue moon. I heard her calling me again. My blood curdled with rage. She was trying to control me. I dragged the axe towards the back door. It left a scar on the grass. I said calmly: “I’m coming mommy.”
You can’t escape me.
No matter how fast you run. How far you run. How hard you try. There’s no escaping me.
I always linger in the shadows, waiting for you to mess up.
Why escape me if no one will believe you?
Come on child, let the games begin.
She was drenched in sweat, unable to breathe. Her eyes almost popped out. There was something under her toenail; something that crawled and dug its way into her flesh. Desperate, she ripped her nails apart—only to find herself.
Pitch alleyway. A portal painted in bile.
“Enter, old man,” whispers my son. “Death is painless.”
Dare I obey? Dare to confront the hatchet awaiting my throat?
“No son of my making…..” I protest.
“Humph,” says he.
I bear no guilt for his revenge; yet, I hesitate at the door.
Come, ghouls. All forever wandering souls embrace me on this hallowed day, for I deserve to join your ranks.
Suck my breath, devour my flesh, decimate my blackened soul.
Leave of me no trace behind.
DEADBOLT
My eyes slowly opened, semi darkness – an obscured man sat rocking in my chair. “A dream,” I thought, turning away. Two nights then a third, same dream. The next night, same man, this time he stood up. “Your deadbolt needs fixing.” He said holding the hammer. It wasn’t a dream.
Fog swirled around him, denser by the second. He was as good as blind. Afraid to walk on the boggy marshland, he stood still, struggling to breathe. Then the scream. Spinning round in his grey world, he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Laughter followed. And then heavy breathing…
With a little cry, I fall. Down and down into the pit. Hissing, writing bodies await me. As I plummet headfirst, fork tongued, scaly faces meet mine and fanged mouths open. Like synchronised dancers, they bite. Burning agony floods my jerking body as I land. And they swarm over me.
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Foreign footsteps behind hastened my pace down the deserted street. Reaching sanctuary I bolted the door. Suddenly a determined pounding began.
Terror solidified my resolve not to open the door. Eventually silence ensued.
Sunrise swept away the night’s horror. Word came of my neighbor’s brutal murder.
She opened her door.