Horrorstör

by Grady Hendrix

Trinity was one of those happy, super-popular, high-energy girls who reminded Amy of the creatures from Gremlins: she was fun for about half an hour, then you wanted to stuff her in a blender.

“Firing Ruth Anne is like clubbing a baby seal. It makes you evil. Everyone likes Ruth Anne.”

“I don’t want to hold hands,” she said. “Trust me,” Matt said. “I have a way to complete the circle without holding hands.”

“Shut up,” Matt said. “You’re sure this isn’t satanic?” Ruth Anne asked. “It’s a nondenominational séance,” Trinity said.

Churches are built where saints were martyred.

Twisting, screaming so loudly and for so long that she forgot she was screaming, Amy clawed at the maple flooring but only succeeded in peeling off one of her fingernails like a wet postage stamp.

“It will be the backbone of your cure. For toil is the great grinding stone to make keen the blade of your spirit. Toil is the ladder by which your putrid flesh ascends into health.”