#immortalizing the queue.

bloodied knuckles | tear stained cheeks | rust | a busted lip | claws | fangs | a bloody nose | chattering teeth | a dark space underneath the bed | scratching noises on a wall | creaking metal | fog | dancing under moonlight | blood dripping lips | heavy breathing in the dark | a feeling of unexplained dread | a figure in a dark corner |  dirty peeling wallpaper | a bloody handprint on the wall | sobbing in the dark | bite marks on the skin |eerie whispers | a hood covering a stranger’s eyes | the growl of a hidden animal | the sound of a blade being sharpened | a deep, dark forest | walking on the streets alone at night | a cobweb-filled, abandoned building | eyes darting in paranoia | a heavy beating pulse | the feeling of being trapped | struggling to get out a scream | boards covering broken windows | a quiet graveyard | a gas station in the middle of nowhere | a road that never ends | heavy fog rolling in | the scent of blood in the air | eerie old photographs | walking along traintracks at night | a chill going up the spine | gathering crows | a dusty, dimly lit study | mist over a deserted cobblestone street | ghost towns  | shadows around a campfire | the sound of chanting | church bells tolling | an orange harvest moon | a broken down carnival | a dirty stuffed animal abandoned | wiping bloody hands on fabric |nightmares | waking up in a panic | a power outage | heavy lightning storms | a secret trap door | the feeling of being watched | fear from trauma | a ouija board set out on a table | an eerie doll | a scream of anguish and pain | withered plants |a room that’s been forgotten and gathered dust  | owl eyes in the dark | curled, dead tree branches | a ritual altar | flickering candles | a lantern held up in the dark | fear of being followed | creaking floorboards |repressed, horrible memories | clenched teeth | soft, echoing piano keys| an old book covered in dust | many pairs of glaring eyes | stumbling in pitch black darkness | being stranded in the middle of nowhere | tarot cards on a table | a trail of blood

     "IT’S TUESDAY. It’s UFO night. Why are you out at night?”

     HE HOPED she was not a girl scout. At first sight she did not look like one (no uniform, no flawless smile on her face, no box of homemade cookies decorated with pink flowers or cute flying moose), but one was never too careful. He was not really in the mood to deal with indoctrinated young good Samaritans. He had been watching old horror B-movies on an unknown channel he would not find ever again till 1 AM or so, then he had blacked out and woken up ten hours later. Fuck. Fucking fuck. His brain was collapsing and had decided to shut down without warning him first. His reality was still intact, but he would spend the rest of the day in a terrible mood, swinging from deep burning wrath to bouts of insanity in the matter of seconds. He was currently digging holes in his front yard and planning to toss some corpses inside them after nightfall. Now, though. That girl. She was staring at him. He felt her eyes burn on his skin as if her gaze was made of acid. He repressed an angry growl and turned to her, shovel in his hands. “What is it?”