Cold wind bristles the trees. Leaves scatter as the children move like sheep, walking from house to house. Collecting their treats.
Cute princesses and adorable pirates. Kids dressed as faux vampires, scruffy werewolves, and pop-star zombies. Silly costumes, trivial things.
Things that won’t trick.
Not in the slightest.
They’ve no idea why they’re dressing up. What the goal is.
But I do.
And I partake properly.
Not because I’m stingy. Or because I’m some crazy “purist”. But because I know.
Tonight—and tonight only—it’s happening. They’re here.
Continue reading “Spirit of Halloween”
The river runs, and it runs, and it runs.
Right through the building. Washing over every floor. Coating all the walls, and filling every hall.
The river runs.
Black tar, river runs.
It builds on the walls. Closes off the doorways. Makes open and shut impossible for them. For us.
Time is running.
Running river, black tar.
Run from the river. The river is running for you.
It runs for you.
Run, run, run from the river.
Run. Continue reading “Spill”
Used furniture is never a good idea.
I told her that. I definitely, absolutely told her that. You have no idea what happened on that couch. No idea what kind of creepy-crawlies could be lurking inside that cabinet.
But, what does she do?
Does she listen to me?
No, of course not.
She goes out and buys a used mattress.
A used mattress.
How the hell am I supposed to sleep? Huh? How can I sleep not knowing?
How can I sleep when the mattress moves?
How am I supposed to live with that? Continue reading “Demon in the Mattress”
It tasted like sanitizer. Like rubbing alcohol. Like pouring acid down my throat. A plastic bottle full of poison.
But I drank anyway.
Let the burn run through me as the haze settled in. As I started to sway, to fog up.
An impossible thing, forgetting.
But I’ll try anyway. Continue reading “Hyde Within”
Knowledge is power.
That’s what my old man would tell me, right before he went off to fight. To claim back “what was taken”. To push back against evil. It was the last thing he told me, right before he never returned.
Knowledge is power?
What a load of crap.
Knowledge isn’t power.
Just because you know those lights at the end of the tunnel are a train doesn’t mean you’ll be saved. Knowledge isn’t power.
There are things in this world coming for you. Things that are nearly impossible to stop. Knowledge just lets you know. Makes you understand exactly how much fear you should have. Continue reading “Rise, Helsing”
A jungle is no place for the faint of heart. No place for someone who doesn’t know—doesn’t accept—the law of the jungle.
Predators are kings.
And everyone else?
Continue reading “Heart of the Jungle”
Captain’s Log: Day 3212.
We found it. We finally found The Mission. We’ll be climbing aboard soon, doing our best to glean what we can from the surveillance and from the wreckage. But, we know it’s alive.
It’s still here. Continue reading “Submerged”
People are foolish.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my thousand years, it’s that.
People will believe anything they want to believe. The truth can be staring them down, ready to eat them, and still.
They’ll believe what they want to believe.
A plague of their own. A curse that they consistently choose:
Ignore the ugly truth.
Not that I’m complaining.
Honestly, it makes my job a whole hell of a lot easier. Continue reading “Undead Truth”
Nobody outside of the community would know, because there’d be no way for them to know. This curse is ours, and ours alone. No other land sees the creature—no one else has to fear it like we do. Our ancestors spilt the blood on this land, and this land makes us pay for it.
And over again.
When the crops rise, and the harvest moon peaks its bleary eyes out over the night sky, we know.
It’s almost time. Continue reading “Part of the Crop: A Tale of Harvest”
Basements—especially the unfinished ones—were my least favorite. You never knew what you were going to find down there. Unfinished ones were usually designated storage space. Sometimes you’d find weird things, like mannequins, or halloween decorations, or old machinery. Sometimes, there’d just be mounds and mounds of boxes.
Sometimes, you’d find the source of their problems.
The cause for their fear.
Basements were hotbeds for them.
Bugs. Continue reading “Giant Problems”