I enter your room as a chilled breeze while you slumber deep. My translucent hand glides along the wood as I hover near your footrail.
Memento mori is what they say. Life’s short so do what you must. Live in the moment, and in this do trust— if you were
I wondered as he puttered around, could I kill a man with the strength of my legs? Could I crush the life from his chest—
He had stardust in his eyes, and even now, they twinkled under the moon’s light. His soft parts firmed and stoked her passions. She wondered
She pondered life and whether there really was such a thing as right or wrong. She had sinned, yet no hand smote her. A calculated
A fifty-word micro fiction horror story.