Hunting Mother Day 17

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The Hollow shifted.

As we slept, the Hollow moved, and we woke up in a building different than the one we’d fallen asleep in.

We broke our fast in silence, and by the time we were ready to leave, the sun had finally revealed itself. The orb was lower and wider than it should be, and the air of this Hollow felt wrong.

We all noticed it, but none of us remarked upon it. I could see the knowledge in my brothers’ faces as easily as they could see it in mine.

I checked the loads on my Colts, and they checked on their rifles as well as the long, curved blades sheathed at their sides. When we finished with our preparations, we moved out at a slow and steady pace.

There was an unnatural stillness to the world, and I realized there was a lack of birdsong or any other animal sound for that matter. Even the dirt beneath our feet was barren of ants.

We’d not gone more than a few miles before the path we followed dipped down and curved, a harsh, hot wind rising up to meet us. A sickly odor hung upon the air, and I drew both Colts. My brethren held their rifles at the ready.

The path straightened out and came to a pond of still water.

The wind shifted, and the smell of putrid flesh assailed us.

As I watched, the water rippled and shifted. A malevolent sigh escaped from it, and a pair of small figures clambered clumsily from a set of caves. They stopped and stared at us. Then, their jaws slackened, and they moaned.

It was a terrifying sound, and as it issued forth, I heard it repeated again and again and again.

Around us, more of the small shapes appeared, the stench of decaying meat nearly overwhelming us. I brought up my Colts and pulled the triggers. The closest body stumbled back but didn’t go down.

Amir raised his rifle, fired, and the closet body’s head exploded.

The small form fell with a splash into the water.

“Undead,” Amir stated, and we fell back.

The five of us picked our shots as we retreated and as scores of the creatures appeared from more caves.

Against the undead, all you can do is shoot well and conserve your ammunition.

So that’s what we did.

#horrorstories #mother

Published by

Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

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