Thomas Miller
I woke up to my dog Smitty growling at the foot of my bed, his fur bristling as he stared into the darkness of my room. Then I remembered… Smitty died four years ago, and whatever he was growling at just whispered my name.
The old funeral home’s door creaked open as I stepped inside, my footsteps echoing in the dim light of the embalming room. The corpses were sitting up, their hollow eyes locked on me, and in unison, they grinned.
The old funeral home’s door creaked open as I stepped inside, my footsteps echoing in the dim light of the embalming room. The corpses were sitting up, their hollow eyes locked on me, and in unison, they grinned.
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