She looked at me. Her face, contorted. Her right hand covered her mouth in disgust. The other hand dropped the plate on the bed. The movement of her head signalled an urge to throw up. I didn’t know what to do. Why did I agree to it? Why didn’t I say I couldn’t, in the […]
This is truly a mosquitoes slaughterhouse. Blood, blood and more blood. Unfortunately it’s the butcher’s own blood. Hunter turned hunted.
ZZZ the mosquitoes buzz at the break of dusk.
“Let’s attack him,” they urge each other. “Wait, he is still not asleep,” the younger skinny one complains. “He is never fully sleep. You will starve if you wait for him to,” the father warns…