When my first son was young, probably four or five. He came and climbed into bed with me and his mother, crying.
I asked him what's wrong and he said in a scared whisper, "The big fat man with a bloody hole in his forhead kept trying to open my window."
YOU ARE READING
Horror Stories.
Short StoryThis book is for you to stay up all night, afraid that the thin little lady will crawl to you under the duvets. Welcome to the world of horror. #18 in short stories. Vote/commemt/follow.