I can hear them. I can hear the music, the conversations, the sound of their feet shuffling about on the floor. Upstairs are having a party. I struggle vainly against my restraints, and the pain shoots through my upper arms and they bleed. I only stop when I feel on the verge of fainting. I would scream for help, if only my lips weren’t sewn shut.
YOU ARE READING
Little Things
HorreurA collection of six-sentence horror miniatures, ideal for horror readers with short attention spans.
