A collection of short, creepy stories. Here you'll find tales from zombie lice to sun-eating monsters!
The Sins We So Kindly Commit is featured in @Ambassadors Aim To Engage collection and was the winner of the Paranormal prompt. https://www.wattpa...
We saw the Devil Stag with our own eyes the night of Misha's twenty-first birthday party. All of us, now of legal age to drink (like that had ever stopped us anyway) had been downing white wine spritzers and tequila shots till we could barely remember our names.
It was Eddie who heard the window of the farmhouse break. She screamed when she saw a black leathery figure creeping through the shards of broken glass. When the rest of us saw the huge deer-like antlers protruding from its head, we began to run in a state of sheer panic.
Its eyes looked like pieces of the moon. Though it had hoofed feet and hands, it was able to stand up and walk as a person does. Part deer, part vampire, its mouth was full of razor-sharp fangs. My friends tried to flee. We all tried to get away.
Twelve party-goers. Twelve heart-beats. Twelve feasts for the beast. The Devil Stag paused momentarily to commit the twelve to memory. Then it was time to feed.
The scent of blood found me. The sound of anguished cries seeped into my brain. The Devil Stag tore into the flesh of a guy I'd once kissed. I saw blood spurt from a hole in his stomach. I saw blood spill from lips I once had thought of as dreamy. The sound erupting from within him was that of a tortured animal. If I live to be a hundred (which I doubt), I'll never forget that sound.
I got away. I don't know how, but I did. I ran. I ran faster than I'd ever run before. Tore right off into the grove of trees of the farm. An orchard of apple trees slept soundly. Yesterday, Misha and I had walked in the sunshine, eating apples fresh off the trees. We had wondered if we had enough liquor for twelve people. That was our biggest worry. I wish I had something that frivolous to worry over now.
Darkness was never my friend. The moon above looked down on me in pity. In the Lunar craters, I saw the Devil Stag's glare.
My heart raced. I thought my lungs would collapse. I fell against a tree, torn between weeping and catching my breath. When I drew in a breath, I smelled blood and death.
Branches cracked. With my heart lurching to my throat, I turned in fear that twin antlers would find my very eyes and poke them out only to use them as decorations on the tips. When I saw nothing, I still did not relax. I knew it would come for me. It was a matter of time.
The legend of the Devil Stag was that its appetite for flesh was insatiable. When it found prey, it would not stop until every heartbeat had been extinguished. It heard my heartbeat the moment it entered the farmhouse. It had counted twelve. I was the twelfth. I would not be spared.
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