50 Halloween Stories: #s 8 , 9, 10 , 11 and 12
More creepy/stupid stories for Halloween, both taken from my posts at 100 Words, which I am reminding you to visit on a daily basis.
And yea, I'm not gonna make 50. My muse left me for a bit.
Five short stories for you reading pleasure (or otherwise) below the fold.
#8 Down in a Hole
My skin is walking off my bones. I’m uptight. Restless. I rub the skin on my arms until it flakes but it still feels like it’s crawling away.
I pace. Forward five. Turn. Back five. Five is all I can go in these shackles. I want to go ten, twenty, five hundred, home. I can’t.
It’s dark and damp and every sound is amplified. This place is cavernous. Yet I feel like I’m in a mousehole.
I hear footsteps, going away. A door slams, my heart jumps, my stomach drops.
I wonder when he’ll come back.
I pace forward five.
#9: Hungry Like the Wolf
I stay within the shadows
blend with the darkness,
until it’s too late
A flicker of movement
bursts from the night
I am on them.
Surprise is their weakness
no time to defend.
the flesh is hanging from their throat
blood painting the ground
I drag the victim to a private place
I devour skin
until I am sated
I leave the remains
for the wolves;
more my brethren than humans.
I walk the streets
become me again
or leave me again
it’s hard to tell.
#10: My Cup Runneth Over
I know it’s wrong, but nourishment is scarce since the plague; healthy blood is hard to find and I’d rather not wither to dust.
I entered the church at midnight and located the sacristy. Still feeling uncomfortable about what I was doing, I did a quick sign of the cross (that does not kill us) and drank. Lucky me, it was blessed. I could feel the life coursing through me.
Then I saw the priest standing there.
He cut my stomach out with a pocket knife, squeezed and drained my fluids into the wine vessel.
Good thing I’m already dead.
#11: Escape Clause
“It was a dark and stormy night. I was in the cemetery, minding..”
“Looking for bodies...”
“I’ll wait for my attorney.”
“Will he be here soon?”
I glanced out the window. “Sun’s down. Should be soon.”
A few minutes later, a bat appeared at the window.
“Let him in.”
“Excuse me? The bat?”
“Oh come on...”
I bared my teeth a bit, let my fur stand up.
He opened the window.
The bat flew in and, in one small poof, became Dracula, Attorney at Law.
The officer fainted and Drac flew us out of there. Works every time.
#12 Season of the Creep
The Creeping Season lasts only two weeks but it feels like forever. It comes the morning of the first frost, has for hundreds of years now. We just pray a lot and peek out the curtains to watch the fuzzy brown stuff creep out the forest and over the stream and onto the street and the grass and our sidewalks. It moves real slow, like it’s taking it’s time, the bastard.
When it’s gone after two weeks so’s one of our young ones. The creep has gotta eat, I guess. Maybe after the frost is when kids are in season?