Flash Horror Story
Heart racing. Breath shallow. John waited. The closet around him was small, only just big enough to allow him to hide inside.
He could see the light shining underneath the door, with a red undertone from the carpet. John had to fight hard to keep his body still. He was trembling violently, terror permeating every cell in his body.
Downstairs, he heard it again.
John remembered when it came, the sounds from below. He had been working at his computer, writing a critical statement about the painting of Jesus on the cross, and then he heard them.
Screams. The most awful screams. Screams of fear and pain; screams of death.
He was alone now, so very alone. His wife, his daughter, gone now. The screams lasted for several minutes; a lifetime to experience. Behind them were noises, grunts and snarls, like feral dogs feeding. From their sounds, he knew they were dying. Now there were only the occasional growls from the thing below. They must be dead by now.
The closeness of the closet walls were making him cramp. He shifted his weight. Something fell. He held absolutely still, with even his tremors frozen in fear. Surely it would have heard that.
John heard footsteps on the stairs. It was coming up.
He could hear each step as it sought its prey. Each step, though muffled by the carpet, seemed to ring out in John’s ears.
The light from beyond the door was eclipsed. It was just outside. John remembered the screams. He let out one short sob. The thing snarled. It had found him.
The door was wrenched open, and he saw it. Six feet of snarling evil with hunger in its eyes, covered head to feet in writhing black ooze. John inhaled one last time, and it pounced.g here ...
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