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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Dark · #1659579
On a beautiful spring day, the world goes to hell...
It started out as a beautiful spring day when the dark things came. They would just come up to you, snatch you up in their wet hands and suck your soul into them. Your face would soon be the newest addition of their collection in their hands. Their eyes glowed blood red and teeth black as themselves. Really, they were like pure black mud that never dripped (except for when they crapped, which was also the same color as they were). They were fair creatures with such sharpness and an evil personality, always laughing when a building blew up, or a gun weilding civillian blew a hole into them. The hole wouldn't fix itself, it would just stay the way it had been when the blast went through. No pain was afflicted on these creatures, so what was a hole in their stomach to them? Nothing. You couldn't kill them. The most you could do was blow their black heads off, which didn't stop them much. They still moved and walked to their victims with great cooridinants as if they had an extra set of eyes somewhere else in their body, somewhere hidden where no one would ever find them. No that wasn't it. Their senses were almost perfect. These are The dark Things.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1659579-The-Dark-Things