There Was A Man Who Did Things To Me As A Child. He Came Back.

Tommy straightened, panting, observing his work. Blood splatter painted the cabinets and floor, slow trails that oozed like reaching fingers. Stephanie was weeping, eyes squeezed shut, twins mimicking their mother’s sorrow.

Tommy ran a hand through his hair, exhaling, his eyes meeting mine. He smiled, shaking his head, like he couldn’t believe it. He then turned to Stephanie and motioned for the babies.

“Give them to me. Clean your husband’s mess up.”

My nails were digging into the table top, knuckles white. I couldn’t believe the carnage I had just witnessed, the brutal execution of my brother-in-law. I was shaken to the core, my vision spinning in disbelief.

Tommy leaned down and snatched the babies from my sister, “Go. Put him in the basement for now.”

“W-why did you have to do that?” Stephanie squeaked between sobs.

Tommy began to soothe the twins, shooting a look at my sister, “He wasn’t right for this family. Now clean him up.” Tommy walked into the living room, motioning for me to follow him.

My chair scraped loudly against the floor as I stood, watching my mentally shattered sister begin to drag her husband towards the basement door. Drool leaked from her lips as she whispered loving apologies to the deceased. She was breaking.

In a horrific daze, I followed Tommy into the living room, feeling like I was in a dream. I wanted to murder this monster, rip this cancer from my family. But another part of me knew I couldn’t, that attempting to do so would just bring more violence. There just had to be a way though…

Tommy had settled the twins and was now watching me, “You ok Matt?”

About the author

Elias Witherow

Elias is a prolific author of horror fiction. His books include The Third Parent, The Black Farm, Return to the Black Farm,and The Worst Kind of Monsters.

“Growing up reading the works of King, admiring the art of Geiger, and knowing fiends like Pinhead left me as a pretty jaded horror fan today. It takes a lot to get the breath to hitch in my throat and the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.. My fiance is quite similar, so when he eagerly begged me to let him read me a short story about The Black Farm by Elias Witherow, I knew it had to be good… And I was not dissapointed. Elias has a way of painting a picture that you can feel with all your senses and plays the tunes of terror created when our world meets one much more dark and forces you to keep turning the pages hungry for more.” —C. Houser

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