Oʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴘᴏsᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴅᴅɪᴛ ʙʏ:
IPostAtMidnight
Have you ever walked into a room and found a vampire?
No, not the sexy kind, but a foul creature with bony limbs and ashen skin? The kind that snarls as you enter, like a beast about to pounce? The kind that roots you to the spot with its sunken, hypnotic eyes, rendering you unable to flee as you watch the hideous thing uncoil from the shadows? Has your heart started racing though your legs refuse to? Have you felt time slow as the creature crosses the room in the darkness of a blink?
Have you shuddered with fear when it places one clawed hand atop your head and another under your chin so it can tilt you, exposing your neck? Have you squirmed as its rough, dry tongue slides down your cheek, over your jaw, to your throat, in a slithering search that's seeking your artery? Have you felt its hot breath release in a hiss against your skin when it probes your pulse—the flow that leads to your brain? Has its tongue rested there, throbbing slightly as if savoring the moment? Have you then experienced a sinking, sucking blackness as you discover that not all vampires feed on blood—some feed on memories?
Well, have you?
Maybe not. But let me rephrase the question:
Have you ever walked into a room and suddenly forgotten why you came in?
YOU ARE READING
Short Horror Stories
KorkuWʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ɢʜᴏsᴛ sᴛᴏʀɪᴇs, ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ sɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴀ ᴄᴀᴍᴘғɪʀᴇ, ʀᴏᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴀʀsʜᴍᴇʟʟᴏᴡs, ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ sᴘᴏᴏᴋʏ ᴛᴀʟᴇs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴛᴏʀᴄʜ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴍʏ ᴄʜɪɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴛɪʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴛᴇɴᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ. Dᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀᴄᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪsɴ'ᴛ ᴀɴ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠɪᴛʏ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴇᴠᴇ...
