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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #1893854
Is a madman really recognized before it's too late?
Cobham, England slept as a dour fog crossed the moorlands and blanketed a towering gristmill’s silhouette.

Muted, childish whimpering coming from Cobham Mill’s dismal cavity went unheard as leathery wings rattled in the rafters. Down below, vermin’s sparsely haired tails twitched while patiently waiting for another easy meal served on the grinding wheel.

One by one, a crazed madman hurled his innocent victims overhead and bashed their skulls upon the cold stone. When the carnage ended, the killer howled, “Suffer little children.”

At daybreak, the chameleon donned his tweed jacket and checked vest, and helped search for the missing infants.
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