At the drop of midnight, a person awoke. His skin no longer lotioned and smooth, yet still intact but so scaly, he did not recognize himself in the light of the moon, peering into the pool of water right beside his unforsaken grave. The whistle of the wind made his skin crawl. He was so sure there was something inside of him, creeping silently like a mouse under his scaled skin without body cavity, excreting a ticklish sensation that would run up his spine if it was not broken. One last look into that muddy, unclear, shallow pool of liquid made the man, that is if he was even a man, do a double take. This lead to realization that it was not the man looking in the puddle, it was me.
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Troubling Tavern; The New Place in the Hundred Haunted Oaks
HorrorShort stories of horror attempts, straight from the Troubling Tarevan itself. Includes some one paragraphs spooks, so out of ill-faith keep all lights out.
