Hourglass Skull Novels & Stories

From a tiny crack in the window, sunlight was streaming into the pitch-black chamber and falling on the blood-spattered arms. The white shirt had been stained red by blood. The veins in the arms and shoulders were still green. His jawline was seductive, his long neck rested on the ideal collarbone. His large skull wound erupted in blood, spilling down his face to his strong chest. His broad skull wound erupted in blood, which then trickled down his cheekbones and into his powerful chest. His lips had ripped corners and were dry and bloodless. His eyes were puffy and thick.

Hazel felt its presence before she saw it. It had been strangely lurking around but she could not see it —till she did. An image began to form in her eyes. The image had extra long hands which were longer than its legs and were scraggly. Its head was a misshapen square with eyes that had no eyelids and brows. As if that was not enough horror, the appearance had a mouth that had teeth poking out with no lips, a nose that seemed to be missing half the flesh on its left nostril, and hair which were mere wisps.