You feel a wet pulse of air across your legs, another
across your back.
You quiver mindless.
Shapes flicker in the dark fog. You can’t move, you can’t breath.
Grey reaches out of the dark. Twisting elbows, deformed hands.
Your heart freezes. You turn to stone.
They add you to the wall.
You know the well has to be close, but your lantern only makes the fog harder to penetrate.
You know there’s nothing but ope…
A sequel to They Don't Come Out at Night
Published on November 01, 2007.
This story (like all ficlets) is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 License. What does this mean?
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