Pain pulsating from grinding teeth to the temple. A hard lump does not belong. Long and white, sharp like a canine; that of a wolf. Ten hundred years passed now Howling Hill seeks new blood. How foolish to think the escape was real. Ooze ran over fingertips; an earthy essence captivated the nostrils. By the fall of the noonday sun, this town will be overrun.
“Flee!” The man demanded. His voice now a growl.
Screams erupt – fur tufts sprout. Blue eyes turn to shadow. Footsteps scurry – before the blinding sun. Time is running out.
About the Creator
Len Lei
Life is intense, as is suspense!
Disconnect from crazy and plug into the world of characters through fantasy, sci-fi or even poetic reads.
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Dead and Wearing Green
She was wearing that green dress when I first saw her, five years ago to the day. Flowing meadow fabric draped over long legs, thick auburn hair flowing down her back. That smile. Of course, she is still beautiful now. But now she is no longer alive.
By Karen Cave8 days ago in Fiction
A Letter to the Firestarter
Dear Firestarter, We can all see you, we've been watching you since you began. In case you didn't know we were here before you and we will be here after. We witnessed your rise, your setbacks, your guilt and your lies. We witnessed you start the fire.
By Donny Foley6 days ago in Poets
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