The cashier swipes my items across the scanner as I stare at the floor. I find it easiest to get through my anxiety by avoiding eye contact with other people. That's why I only go shopping at night: fewer people to avoid.
"Did you find everything okay?" she asks casually.
"Mm-hmm," I mumble to the floor. Her voice sounds nice. Pleasant. Curiosity wins over and I glance up.
The cashier's head is completely caved in on the left side, blood streaming out her eye and ear on the right. Probably a car accident. I snap my gaze back down towards the floor and feel vomit at the back of my throat.
After I pay she gives back my change in a hand so mangled I'm surprised it can hold anything at all.
Thanking her, I grab my bags and turn towards the exit. Immediately I see a man looking through magazines at the storefront. The skin on his face and hands is the consistency of a hot dog that fell into a campfire. Burn victim.
I turn the other way and see a woman with a purple bruise surrounding her neck, her eyes bugged out and bloodshot. Death by hanging.
I rush out the door as fast as I can. In my car I finally catch my breath as I lean my forehead on the steering wheel. Eventually I look up and see my familiar reflection in the rear-view mirror: my head is blown open in the back. Gunshot victim.
Why did I ever wish for the power to see how people die?
YOU ARE READING
Short horror stories
Misteri / ThrillerThis book is about random short horror stories that I found on internet. And here under is just write in Netherlands Dit is in het Engels geschreven dus als je geen Engels kunt vertaal het dan. Dit boek gaat over enge zinnen van Horror verhalen. He...
