#WritcoStoryChallenge
Hisses following me sounded closer. I ran through the empty woods with my heart pounding in terror.
I turned a corner and stopped short.
I had reached a dead end.
Tales were once told
never to be spoken into the midnight.
Whenever we could light a match and reignite our warmth, we would.
It was just past 9 pm, but Celine had already gotten cold feet from the jump
It speaks to me she says
It sings to me, she weeps
It's like me, she seems
I'd think she couldn't hurt a fly
Until the story began, and she was overjoyed once again caught up in the thrill, we are purified of our jagged edges as our sleep is snatched off our eyes.
When she snaps 3 times
She will betray us to awaken it,
while we are zombified alive,
Memories will be sucked out dry.
In just one draw of her proboscis
our lady dreamer has her Phantom
to slave away for her nourishment, until the successive tale by moonlight rekindles a new misfortune to paint our woods red.
© Tђєє ⓞrเginɑl🩸