B. James Wilson
I can try.
Paul entered the rotting house on a dare, though he knew better. It was he who found the torn body of the last one to take the dare and now, he could hear the sound of skittering in the dark around him, the soft, snarling of maniacal hunger, a movement of shadow among the shadows ahead; "Hello," was his final query.
Paul entered the rotting house on a dare, though he knew better. It was he who found the torn body of the last one to take the dare and now, he could hear the sound of skittering in the dark around him, the soft, snarling of maniacal hunger, a movement of shadow among the shadows ahead; "Hello," was his final query.
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