Skinstalker

I listen to the skinstalker as it creeps through the darkness, tracking the movement of its many long, brittle limbs with my gun.

I wait until it has gone as still as the trees around me, then open fire.

It’s only as the muzzle flash lights up the woods that I realize,

Those aren’t trees.

...

Short story written by Peter Chiykowski

Story prompt taken from a photo by Banter Snaps