I stare at the wine bottle in front of me. It calls me, pulling me toward it with its vicious magnetism, its false safety—its lies. I slap my outreaching hand away from it, chiding myself. Lies. All lies. Nodding, I stand up, ready to go to bed. For this living nightmare to be replaced by a sleeping one. But . . . isn't everyone a liar? Amanda's a liar, for not telling me. Brittney's a liar, for going along with it. And, most of all, Jake's a liar. They lied to my face as I laughed with them, as I confided in them, as I loved them. So what's indulging in one more?
YOU ARE READING
Snap Terror
HorrorFlash fiction and short stories that are kind of almost-horror, ya know? Fair warning, they can be kind of creepy sometimes (if I do say so myself), so just . . . proceed with caution.
