www.sinister-anthology.co.uk

by Writers Anonymous.

It was the winter of 2004, and in a deserted garrison town somewhere on the East Coast, a group of seven individuals, each nervously clutching a suspicious but unique package, crowded around a shuttered shop front attempting to shelter from the evening rain. One of the group took a small key from her pocket and inserted it into a well concealed hole. As she twisted it to the left, two hidden electric motors burst into life and the shuttering clattered upwards revealing an entrance in the shadows. Each of the group slid his or her way into the dark interior, cautiously glancing back over their shoulders, with a furtive air...

I'm afraid of the dark
of something nameless,
Wordless
Crawling slowly up behind

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And then I spied her, lying flat on the floor under the table, her legs stiff, her eyes closed, and her neck (oh God! Her neck!).

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After a moment she rose and backed away from the statue, subservience in every line of her body. Lowering her head submissively.

Bags, coats and umbrellas began to fly around and passengers started to scream.

Despite my horror, I was fascinated and reached up to touch it, but then he smiled at me.

Darkness enveloped me like a cloak and I couldn't see anything. As I listened, the cries grew louder.

I try shutting my eyes but I still see. I see limbs dropping from bodies alight. I see blackened skulls.