He followed her into the woods. Coppery hair hidden beneath a dark hood, her fleet footsteps were soundless on the path. No snapping branches, no crunching leaves, no gasping breath betrayed her passage. The silence raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Continue reading
Content Warning: domestic violence
Anton jumped at the sound of the doorbell. The Seth Thomas clock above the fireplace read 11:57.
Only ax murderers ring doorbells at midnight. Continue reading
Florence watched through the window, as the lamplighter worked down the street. The methodical routine soothed her jangled nerves. The man bent to twist the knob and start the gas flowing, then reached up with the pole-mounted lighter. He pulled a lever and the striker sparked. A cheery glow spilled across the cobblestones as he moved onto the next post. Twist. Spark. Glow. Repeat. Continue reading