A collection of short horror fiction.
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The shopkeeper cowered as Stacy Quinn aimed the shotgun at him. An excited smile appeared on her face when he began pleading not to be hurt.
She teased him by beginning to lower the shotgun, before firing it at him point black. The back of his head exploded, showering the wall with blood.
Grabbing the rest of the cash from the register, she strolled outside and jumped into the back of a yellow van. There was no remorse in her voice when she tapped the driver's shoulder, "Go."
The approaching police sirens made her glance out through the window. She hoped it wouldn't be too long before she got to have some more fun.
Peter Haven waited. He had been here for hours, listening to God praise him about his good work. Rubbing his eyes to stay awake, he figured it had to be nearly dawn by now. Time they were coming back after their night of sick pleasure.
He had been killing them for a long time now, grateful that it got easier with each victory over their depraved numbers. The thought that they were onto him crept into his mind, it was sick how much they would have enjoyed themselves during the night. As he reached for the keys to start the engine, he was almost blinded by the headlights of their car.
Hiding behind the seat, he heard the Mercedes' engine grow silent. Raising his head, he saw a well-dressed man approaching the loading bay door, glimpsing the first rays of the rising sun outside.
The clicking shut of the Mercedes door made him look toward his target, a long white fur coat wrapped seductively around the expensive black dress she was wearing. Satisfied there was enough distance between them for him to do what was necessary, he fumbled to start the engine.
The Land rover smashed into her.
He saw her body flash into the windscreen and disappear over the roof. Bringing the Land rover to a screeching halt, he scrambled out toward the body. He fumbled for the Saturday night special in the pocket of his dull jacket and emptied the gun into her boyfriend's chest.
As the boyfriend fell onto the cold concrete, Peter focused on the blood covering the woman's face and found it amusing that things like them could bleed. He pulled down the back of the Land rover and dragged out a large plastic sheet, using it to cover the woman before shoving her inside.
He slammed the door shut and rushed behind the wheel. He had to get into the sunlight before the woman came back from whatever Hell these creatures experience in their brief moments of death.
His chest was on fire with pain as he opened his eyes. Joseph Lawford could feel the aching sting of the slugs and staggered to his feet. It pissed him off getting shot. He had never liked it ever since the first time back in 1756, remembering that moron of a farmer shooting him just because he killed the guy's wife and three daughters. He hated being subdued so easily even if it was only for a minute or two, there was more than enough time to finish him off.
The Land rover smashed him back down.
Forcing himself to stand again, he staggered toward the beams of sunlight falling on the floor. He halted as he saw the Land rover reach the lane leading into town. He knew he couldn't go any further and that pissed him off even further. That was it, he decided he was really going to have some fun killing this moron.