Mr. Rempel

As Jill stared at the dying Mr. Rempel, she heard a deep, croaking voice behind her that was eerily calm.

“No, she got that right.”

Jill clutched the bat handle tightly, then felt a terrible hammer blow to her back. It felt like something had blown a hole through her. She swayed, feeling sick, and looked down the front of her blouse. She recognized the tip of her gardening shears protruding below her breastplate.

She stumbled into the work bench, pushed off it, and somehow managed to turn around.

Before her stood a muscular creature almost five feet high. Thatches of the same pubic-like hair, except even more wiry and tangled, coiled from its head. It had similar bulging eyes, but laced with bloodshot veins, and a warty eyelid sagged over one.

But what was most horrible were the weeping lesions. Ulcerous craters covered its body. A crimson slime oozed from them. Jill tried to speak, but a pink foam only bubbled from her mouth. She started choking on her own blood. The creature staring coldly at her seemed to smirk.





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)