What's The Worst That Could Happen? - Mary Perkins (reading fiction .TXT) 📗

were remains of a campfire in the center of the cave and Daniel had said we could camp there sometimes. I couldn’t understand how he didn’t feel the evil of this place. I felt it. It had met me outside before I had stepped a foot across the entrance. It talked to me now in whispers. It ran it’s cold hands over my arms, giving me a chill that a thousand campfires could never dispel.

In the back, Daniel had found a skeleton. It lay on it’s back on a mat of what once must have been grass or straw. It’s head was thrown back, and something was wrong with it‘s teeth. They looked like dog teeth poking out of a human jawbone. Against my will, I reached out and touched the fangs, ran my hand over each point. They were wickedly sharp.

“Dude, I’m outta here!” I whispered. “That thing, whatever it was, is not normal!” I headed for the entrance to the cave and for once, Daniel followed my lead.

He grabbed my arm as we headed down the slope. I could feel him trembling. Whether he would admit it or not, he was scared as badly as I was.

Back at the camp, the fear in me began to ease away. Daniel and I talked about what we had seen until dawn began to lighten the eastern horizon. I had very carefully hidden from my friend the small cut on the middle finger of my right hand. Those teeth were wickedly sharp.

We had woken the next day around noon, packed our gear and headed home. Oddly, we’d never talked about our discovery again.

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Until tonight when he’d told Mitchell. Big mistake, dude, I thought, as I reached toward them, the nails on my hands sinking into their soft flesh.

They were wickedly sharp. Like my teeth.



Imprint

Text: All Rights Reserved.
Editing: Ricky Perkins, Jennifer Myers
Publication Date: 01-22-2013

All Rights Reserved