I'm in a rundown school, inside its Church. Its floors are lined by old pews and rubble, the altar, decrepit. The building's cracked and full of moss, the moon being the only source of light, given way by roof's holes. I got separated from my group, and I turn around as footsteps trail behind me. A pale, frowning man clad in suit and tattered tie claims to be one of us, and demands I come with him.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories (reconstructed)
Historia CortaThis is a reconstructed anthology of the randomly generated stories I had in mind during 2015. (Read segment title for the list of unsettling content in each category)
