|the house on the hill (standard:horror, 440 words)|
|Author: kendall thomas||Added: Mar 06 2003||Views/Reads: 2080/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|moomlight creates a hungry loser.|
THE HOUSE ON THE HILL by Twisted Wabbit The night was wrapped in a silvery cloud through which the full moon barely shown, but it still worked its powerful influence. The man was no longer human in shape; he had a nuzzle like that of a wolf and broad, fur covered shoulders that had recently ripped through his denim shirt. There was a light in the distance, and hunger drove him toward it. The gothic-style house sat on a slight rise above a long, L-shaped building near a deserted road. A faint light was shinning from a second story window. The wolfman tried the door; it was unlocked. Inside there was a stairway in a musty, broad hall. A faint glow came from an open door to the left of the landing on the upper floor. Cautiously, he climbed the stairs, the sharp claws of his hand scarring grooves in the antique mahogany railing. Slobber fell from his ragged teeth as he peered into the lighted room. He could see a woman sitting in a rocker, next to a lamp on a side stand, her back to him. She was still. Probably asleep. Without hesitating, he leaped forward on powerful legs, pouncing on the woman, gnashing at her spindly throat with his sharp teeth, tearing at her clothes and flesh with his curved claws -- but something was wrong! The flesh was old, dry like a mummy's. The bones rattled around inside the brittle sack of flesh like pebbles in a gourd. The wolfman gagged and spit out the mouthful of parchment-like gore he had ripped out of her throat. He glanced down at the scattered pile of bones and flesh on the floor. The woman had been dead for a long time -- years. Suddenly he heard the front door open. Glancing around he saw a bathroom through an opening. He entered the shower stall and pulled the slightly translucent curtain closed. Soft steps entered the room and through the filmy curtain he made out the vague form of a woman. She stooped over the desiccated remains by the rocking chair, silent and unmoving for a moment. The wolfman could hear his stomach growl in anticipation of a meal. He made ready to spring as the woman came toward the bathroom -- but before he could move, the woman jerked the curtain aside and shoved a long, thick bladed knife into him. Again! And again! And again! Splattering wolf blood all over the floor, walls and ceiling . . . . Down by the L-shaped building a neon sign was flickering, on and off: ~ BATES MOTEL, VACANCY ~ Tweet
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