It was just a bit of fun. No-one really believed in Blanca Mortons, but had you really even done your last year in social studies and psychology without investigating the most popular campus legend?
All in Horror
The lights in the underground parking lot flickered on one by one, each band of yellowy light illuminating the darkness, pushing it back to reveal the dim shapes of cars and concrete pillars. They weren’t very bright, but Illya was more concerned by the way they lit a straight path deeper into the darkness. The concrete stretched on it seemed forever, until the lights became mere pinpricks and then were swallowed up by the dark.
Masks
“Just leave it! Come on, we’re going to be late, it’s fine.”
Richelle, caught in a pool of light from a streetlamp halfway between their gate and the taxi, cast a fretful look back at the front door of their house. Dan, one leg dangling over the taxi’s doorframe, the rest of him already securely seated, scowled at her around fake fangs.
Safety and sanctuary
No-one knew about the Hamelin Sanctuary, or at least no-one talked about it. Gloria stumbled upon it quite by accident, her fur matted and dirty, paws aching, stomach growling. She’d never known there was anyone living in the forest.
Beyond the placid shore
The van’s suspension groaned under Detective Yilmaz’s weight as she ducked into the dimly lit interior. Reported as suspicious three days ago, parked in front of a house, not moving. Dark finish to the paint-job, though this close it was clearly old and flaky, peeling off to reveal rust underneath. Not a matter for the police, but perhaps for the council, towing away abandoned, decrepit or illegally parked vehicles.v
The missing
Making a painting that followed a viewer with its eyes was a simple task, if you had a modicum of skill and some paint. Or charcoal, chalk, anything that could colour a paper or a canvas. It was just pigment and the human brain confusing itself with a trick of perspective, lies the eyes told the mind and the gullible neurons believed.
Eyes in the dark
The putrid stench of corrupted blood hung thick in the air. Father Gascoyne knelt, his cloak pooling around him like the shadows that lurked in the hall, and touched the stain on the ground. As his fingers brushed against the paw print the world leaped into sharp clarity, colours and light swirling across his vision.
Dark lurker
Betty was worried. I didn’t even need to be her twin to know that; supposed mystical bonds and other claptrap aside, it was obvious to anyone with eyeballs. Helped that she told me, too. I wasn’t one of her clique, not one of the shallow hangers on that flocked around her at school. I was unthreatening, safe.
Reboot
Only thirty-nine years ago, people had to live with all the detritus of their lives, all their messy emotions and foolish embarrassments swirling through their brains, making it hard to think straight, see clearly.
Appleseed of my eye
Fat and black like grapes, barely a sliver of iris left to show that her eyes were usually a pale green and not bloated ink blotches staring out of a worn face. They quivered under his scrutiny.