bloody diary

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What you’re about to read is the last entry into the diary of Duncan Hall, supernatural hunter:

23 April 1989 – Day 45

I’ve been following this cruel figure for 45 days now, watching it take its human prey. I call it heartless chameleon, because of the way it only seems to desire the hearts of its targets and it seems to just appear and disappear, seamlessly blending in with its surroundings. Unable to help any of the victims, I’ve been trying to figure out how to stop this monster, unfortunately to no avail.

Tonight I followed a young woman, the type I think he would go for. She stopped to light a cigarette, the slow glow of orange lighting up her face. Then a shadow that seemed to just glide along the wall – no body to cast it, followed her for about ten feet. Suddenly it morphed from the wall; its hand wrapped over her mouth, so no screams could be heard and with a twist of her neck she was down laid on the ground. I looked on as it began to strip off her coat and blouse, then pushing its hand through her rib cage, standing over her body with its claws in her chest. It tilted its head back, its jaw cracking, the sound echoing off the walls as it opened wider and wider. Slowly it raised its arm and the still warm, blood soaked, heart was dropped into its mouth still whole. Shuffling to get a better view I knocked over a milk bottle; it stared in my direction, I ducked down, shaking and praying it wouldn’t find me. I began to crawl away, after a few feet I looked back and it was gone. I made my way back to my apartment where I started this entry but something’s not right, the walls look different, pictures on the walls obscure.

I see it……

This was the last entry in this blood soaked diary and to this date Duncan Hall has never been found.

Copyright ©#horrorsquadww 2013

MURDEROUS MIND

I always had dark thoughts when I was a young boy, my world always seemed thick with black. As I grew older killing insects was a thrill; I would pull them apart and listen to the little sounds they made, almost like screams, my mind was curious. Things had become cloudy again when I met Megan. A lovely woman who would talk to me for hours and seemed to lift the fog that lurked in my head. I liked her a lot and became very attached to her.

I watched her silky skin as she made drinks for us one day, Megan asked if I could help hang a mirror on her bedroom wall “Of course” I replied. As we entered the bedroom I saw a picture of lions tearing antelope apart and then, suddenly, waves of rage entered my head. I swung the hammer I was holding, hitting Megan on the back of the head again and again, I couldn’t stop. Eventually I dropped the hammer and looked at what I had done, still my mind was intrigued. I grabbed her legs and began to take her downstairs her head bounced making a thud as I dragged her body down each step leaving a bloody line behind us. I took her to the kitchen, a knife in my mind, but I remembered the insects. I began to peel her skin with my bare hands, slowly peeling the flesh piece by piece, blood covered my hands and the scent of her still warm flesh began to make my mouth water. Sat hunched over like a starved zombie I began to bite through the chewy veins and tendons savoring her divine muscle, like a rare steak euphoria setting in.

I sat back and caught my reflection in a pane of glass on the door, blood all over my hands and face, a smile emerged. I knew then in that moment what I had done.

I was a killer and there would be more, as the fog clouded my mind once more.

Copyright ©#horrorsquadww 2013