Kill Creek

by Scott Thomas

It was an old soul in a new shell.

“Funny thing about rumors,” Sebastian said softly. “It doesn’t matter if they’re true or false, only that people believe them.”

“Horror no longer goes bump in the night. Horror stuffs the bodies of dead hookers in his crawl space and then pulls a twelve-hour nursing shift taking care of your sick mother. Horror sits in his cubicle and fantasizes about sucking the toes of the high school cheerleader he plans to strangle after work. Horror stays awake at night dreaming up ways to hurt you and your family and your pets and everything you hold dear. Horror is perversion.”

“Celebrate it?” Moore scoffed. “Are you honestly that simple? While you look to the heavens and sing hymns about rolling away the stone, I’m lifting up rocks to expose the pale writhing worms beneath. They’re there, Slaughter; you just don’t want to admit it.”

That may be the most perverse thing of all: ignoring the horror, even as it happens around you.”

That’s the root of all fear: the loss of control. Not being able to stop the evil.”