He’d been following her since the pub, her silhouette outlined against the pale moonlight. She’d caught his eye immediately, her black dress and furry bucket-hat screaming “money.” She wasn’t bad on the eyes either. Most of those stuck-up bitches weren’t.
She took a sharp turn down an alley. He grinned as he glanced around. No witnesses. Pulling a knife, he rushed down the backstreet and grabbed her, slamming her, back-first, against the wall.
Her hat fell.
His eyes widened as her hissing hair slithered and coiled.
His scream died in his throat as he fell back, shattering against the ground.
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alt="Stone Jaws by Evan Baughfman"
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height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Mannequin People by Michael J. Stiehl"
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loading="lazy"
width="1200"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Gator by Randall Andrews"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Rude Awakening by Richard Lau"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>