May 16th, 1981
My father's voice haunted my dreams last night. Not the bellowing he did, but the pleas for me to understand his fear of Grandpa Wes.
I saw his description of his teachers skull, still dripping blood to a basement floor. A pretty woman's face just below the saw line across her forehead. My heart was pounding and I seemed to choke on air. Grandpa Wesley's eyes met mine. His laboured frown turned to a spite filled grin and he nodded.
I became dizzy, as if I had been holding my breath, when I could feel myself choking. The room turned red and everything disintegrated.
I laid flat in my bed when I came too. Red is the answer and I have a plan.
YOU ARE READING
The Franklin Series: Torment
HorrorBook Two of four in The Franklin Series Wesley has been through hell. He is alone with only his morbid memories to keep him company. No matter how lonely the journey, he will always have his professional curiosity to keep him occupied. These are the...
