Horror Stories - 1 second planning

The Frog-Looking Man

The dark silhouette had been pacing around the edge of the forest for some time now. It was a shape of a man, and it never strayed from its place. That was last Sunday. Now it was the next Sunday, and the man had gotten closer. Much closer.

Now walking around the edges of our backyard, the silhouette's gleaming grotesque smile could be seen when it was rounding a particularly dark corner. Its smile was the only thing that stood out. Other than running away fast when we came near it, it caused us no harm. Of course, Dad had called the police, with no proof or real evidence. Of course, the police thought he was hallucinating. They theorised he was intoxicated or he was a drug addict. But my whole family saw. We know what we saw.

That was when we heard the footsteps. Loud thumping sounds, then snapping. After that, sadistic chuckling. Every night, we heard the sounds, right below us. After a few nights of the whole family tossing and turning, Dad went to check, legs shaking, hands trembling, clutching a wooden stick in his white knuckles. When he came back up the stairs, his face was white. He had found a note, edges dog-eared and smeared with blood. On it it was written, 'I can cure her'. On the back was a sketched picture of a man oddly disturbing but familiar. The man was balding, with a bulging, abyssal eyes, and a wide, grotesque and gaping smile. His nose was small, and his eyes and mouth gravitated towards his small nose, giving him an appearance of a frog. A very familiar one.

The next day, in the morning, my sister was shaking and crying, lying on her bed. Her hands were clenched together and she was dancing up and down like a Mexican jumping bean on her bed. Her legs were gone. Two bloody stumps were left. The sheets were awash with blood, and a note on the bed beside her. 'I can cure her'.

That night, Dad went to consult the silhouette pacing around our garden. This time, the silhouette didn't run away. It turned, stepped into the dull moonlight, and Voila! He was the man in the picture on the note, 'I can cure her'. After a few minutes and the frog-looking man touching his face, Dad turned around faced the window I was standing at. His face was—ripped off! I fainted.

I feel someone holding me down when I gain consciousness. Dad. His face is still hanging off in shreds. He's alive, warm blood from his face raining down onto my body. Then he tells me. That the frog-looking man needed blood to cure my sister. And a new body. That is where my body comes in. To comply to the extra legs and organs that my sister needs. Dad betrayed me just to save my sister. And then I look beside me. There's my sister, her body twisted like a pretzel into an abomination. I feel a sharp pain in my abdomen. Life ebbs. I slowly and torturously die.