#140Horror (2012)

  • The carved pumpkin chortled maliciously. Billy, believing the ancient rite to be nothing more than lore, had doomed them all.
  • The witching hour tolled on the clock tower. The ancient molesting tree angrily rent its fettered roots from the Earth. Time to feed.
  • Gregory didn’t mind digging graves. He enjoyed listening to the tortured, lost souls as they pleaded for him to avenge them.
  • The pixie had tricked Elli. She had freed him in sympathy, but now she was alone, and what had hunted the little one now hunted her.
  • The demon laughed as Brad traded him his ring for mere riches. It had protected him, but now there’d be some real fun.
  • Voices taunt him with foresight of tragedies that can only be stopped with murders. Would any believe he killed for their safety?
  • Bone weary, Eliza stepped to the edge of the oddly still pond. “The water’s warm,” cooed a voice from the depths “Sleep with us.”
  • Hexed with belief in his own infallibility and martyrdom, he was doomed to destroy everything beautiful and good in his life.
  • The young boy listened as the sturdy tree in the empty field that had been there since before the Civil War asked him to play swing.
  • One by one, the rocks around me lifted themselves into the air until they encompassed me. I should not have ventured so far.
  • All the birds in the trees stopped their usual chatter as Erin entered the woods, then began chirping in ever quickening unison.
  • What was that?! Leaves rustle, yet there is no wind. The sullen moonlight casts shadows everywhere. My heart races, and I wait.
  • Wary winter wippoorwills wistfully whisper warnings when weary wanderers wander where wrathful wraiths walk.
  • As the rider raced on I was ashamed by my treachery and fear. That rider was no man but instead something terrible, and he hunted my friend.
  • The blood moon reached its Zenith as the dead rose from the grave to stalk the night. Be weary of living on the day for the dead.