Goodreads asked Don Bendell:

Can you tell us a two-sentence horror story?

Don Bendell Dusty, dry, and weary from several days of travel in the hot sun trying to track down that ruthless killer of women and children Johnny Three-Guns, my left hand held the saddle horn as I wearily stepped out of the stirrup. To my shock, my right foot went down into the ground, then my whole body, as I slipped into the camouflaged pit he had dug by the hitching post, and I could easily see the sharp spikes pointing up at me ten feet below, as I held onto the left stirrup with one hand and prayed for help.

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