Hand in hand brother and sister ran out the door to play. Mother told them not to play too close to the gate and they must never, ever go through it. She always told them that, never saying why.
As the days passed they ventured closer and closer to the gate until they were caught and scolded.
“I’ve told you a thousand times,” she yelled.
But why, they implored. Nothing ever happened.
She looked terribly sad and scared. “Bad things have happened,” she spoke softly, her voice shaky. How could she explain? They wouldn’t listen. Saying only bad things was far too vague. “People… Children have gone m
Farnsworth and I cowered low behind the tombstone.
“You had to open the dashed thing!” he chastised me.
“My dear chap,” I kept my voice as low as possible, “do you think now an apt time?”
“Damn you, woman!” Van Dyke bristling he grimaced. “If this is the last of me…”
“I shall ensure to send a conciliatory missive to your dearest and your mother,” I japed, rising as we cocked our flintlock pistols at the ready.
We had come to make the gravest of errors; the assumption that which we hunted—or more accurately, hunted us—was human.
Protoplasma - A horror haiku triptych by Cem-Bilici, literature
Literature
Protoplasma - A horror haiku triptych
Woke by crash of glass
Trembling with fear, intruder
She rises to look
Atop shining shards
Rat comprised of blackest night
Oleous skin creeps
Frozen, utter fear
Shifting darkness rushes forth
Blood curdling death cry