Our Black Magic has back-fired.
We are in the graveyard, breathless and ready to run.
The mausoleum door hangs open like a broken mouth, the shadowy figure standing at the entrance moans.
It's awake and it's hungry.
The house looms ahead and we bolt for the door, praying to find it unlocked. It is.
Dark, quiet, heavy inside. Like death.
Time is running out and we need to hide.
Six people, six hiding places.
Off we go.
I find a quiet closet in the second floor study, coats hanging in my face.
I don't know what has become of the other five, I only exist in soundless breaths, face buried in the musty coats.
Footsteps on the first floor at the entrance, floorboards creaking.
A throaty growl that reverberates through the old house.
My heart pounds so loud and strong I am sure it will burst through my ears and betray my hiding place.
Silent tears soak into the old coats.
Into the kitchen the footsteps trail.
Along the counter, past the sink, over to the pantry....
A blood-curdling scream drowned into gurgling silence.
One down, five to go.
I pray the beast finds a full belly before it finds me.Sweet dreams,
~Story Siren
Ooh, goosebumps! Well told. You should publish an anthology!
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