Six Sentence Story-Horror Feast


Horror Fest had been anti-climatic again this year and Phillip wondered if he’d ever get the rush of pure terror he’d gotten when he was a kid.

It was his lifelong pursuit of a ‘high‘ he hadn’t been able to repeat since he was nine and had hidden in the closet secretly watching Dawn of the Dead along with his unsuspecting parents.

The Halloween after-party would have been just as disappointing as the film festival if it hadn’t been for a most delectable surprise hors d’oeuvre called Jalapeno Popper Mummies of which he gobbled up more than two dozen.

It was after midnight when Phil finally drew the covers down and climbed into bed falling quickly asleep to the comforting-somewhat spooky- sound of the tree outside of his window rhythmically tapping a branch against his house in a crisp Autumn wind.

By the Devil’s Hour, a mist rolled in surrounding a contorted dark figure, outside the window, obscuring him from the surveillance camera allowing him enough cover to breech the bedroom and crush Phil’s skull greedily devouring his brain!

Cacophonous screaming woke every neighbor on the street, who summoned the police, who battered the door down, then raced up the stairs, finding Phil quivering in a corner tightly hugging his knees as he frantically rocked back and forth babbling, “Never, never, never, again…jalapenos! Never, never, never again…jalapenos!… Nev…”


31 thoughts on “Six Sentence Story-Horror Feast

      1. It’s absolutely the worst! Milk, lots of it. And those tablets that taste like sidewalk chalk. Sometimes helps, sometimes, you just have to burp fire until it passes.
        Have a fantastic weekend!

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