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Horror First Line Game
- Thread starter badducky
- Start date
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It took a moment to realize the tall, dark, long haired man who followed me only existed in the store window's reflections.
Just an F.Y.I.; having black zombie goo running all over you at two o’clock in the morning, with the accompanying smell of rotting flesh, is not pleasant.
It was a pleasant morning, sunny, 80-degrees, a light wind blowing out of the south, and then the old lady fumbling her way down the sidewalk in the direction I was walking started to scream and exploded in a bloody spray of entrails and gobbets of flesh.
This morning was worse than usual. Not only did I wake up with a hangover, but I quickly discovered I'd been buried alive.
There was an unusual aroma as I awoke that morning - not the normal smell of hard tack and biscuits. I pushed through the tent flaps and emerged, deeply inhaling the scent of freshly-barbecued rebel.
Spider-like legs emerged from the inky puddle forming near the broken chandelier on the ceiling of the old Wotton Place.
Five advil so far and it still feels like my skull is trying to claw its way out the base of my neck... I fear it may be succeeding.
The black street rose up a block in front of my car and rolled toward me like an asphalt tidal wave.
The shark plucked me from my Australian crawl at the top of the wave, yanking me by one leg from the light and air into the murky depths, my last breath trailing bubbles already tinged with red.
Her soul tasted as dank and bitter as her attitude - but I have a rule, so I never spit one out, no matter how sour its essence.
It was the headache that woke him and the axe that killed him, today was clearly going to be one of those days.
When I smiled, the twin succubi started giggling; with a flick of my forked tongue, I realized I still had a bit of soul stuck in my teeth.
There's nothing quite like the blood of a wino to take the bite out of a chilly winter's night.
I checked the number of rounds remaining in the magazine. Nope, there was no way I had enough bullets to kill every zombie in the room.
The SUV barely slowed as Harv steamrolled the werewolf. Chrome silver bumpers had been a wise investment after all.
- Joined
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"Killing gets in your blood. Once you have done it a few times, it becomes second nature to you."
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