by Nicki J. Markus
She knew he was doing this on purpose—to scare her. She had never hidden the fact that campfire ghost stories terrified her. She’d only come with him tonight because it meant so much to him. Breaking down halfway through the forest on their way home was too clichéd to be anything other than a sick joke.
“I’ll take a look under the bonnet.” That’s what he’d said an hour ago. The bonnet was still up. There was no movement.
When she finally got out to take a look, she found his bloody, severed head placed neatly atop the engine.
Impressive! My friend and I started together again a writing blog just for practicing our writing skills. I guess such stories demand a precise talent.
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