The baby's cries shredded the night. The hagridden mother stood up and strolled to what passed as its crib: a box so small it looked eerily like a coffin. Her child was purple in the face from crying, but didn't need changing or feeding. "Night terrors," thought the mother, as she took it into her arms to rock it back to sleep. "Don't cry, little one, everything is going to be just fine," she cooed. Outside, the world burned.
YOU ARE READING
Little Things
TerrorA collection of six-sentence horror miniatures, ideal for horror readers with short attention spans.
