By Kenneth Oppel
My father and I lay tensely side by side in total darkness, not daring to breathe. The space was small and smelled bad. We were flat on our backs, scarcely able to lift our heads. Above us, the thing shifted restlessly on its bed, grunting. I hoped it would settle itself soon.
Finally the thing stopped moving. I counted seconds. Was it asleep? Or just lying there awake, waiting?
"Now," my father whispered in my ear.
And very slowly we reached out and up to grasp the child's ankles with our cold, dead hands.
YOU ARE READING
Half Minute Horrors
De TodoA collection of very short horror stories. I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE STORIES OR THE CHARACTERS IN THEM. I WILL SPECIFY WHO THE REAL AUTHOR IS OF EACH STORY. I GOT THEM ALL FROM A BOOK I HAVE CALLED HALF-MINUTE HORRORS.
