Three quirky horror drabbles for you today. Enjoy.
Arrival
She descended to Earth on spiked wings, feathers sharp and jagged. Black ichor dripped from her fingertips, staining the dirt as she settled to the ground, her clawed feet stirring dust. Sulphur wafted through the air as she strutted forward, scratches and inky slime leaving a trail behind her.
She had escaped, she was free, but at a cost. Scars burned into wrists and ankles from her former chains, claw marks gouged across her cheeks, blood spatters on her skin attesting to the bodies left behind.
A sound ahead of her. A human. She smiled, dinner.
And she was famished.
Home, Sweet, Home
No one went to Castle Andras anymore. Too many rumours, too many stories. The village whispered about the lake of blood, the ghosts, a dozen legends, all worse than the last.
Very few of them were true.
The lake ran red once with blood, after the massacre, the owners caught on the wrong side of some war. The castle passed through a few hands since, but none lasted. Many blamed ghosts, but the reality of living in a drafty building in the wilds of nowhere loses its appeal quickly.
Not that there aren’t ghosts.
I should know, I am one.
A Bad Afterlife
I swear, I’m the unluckiest man alive. Well, technically not alive. Not anymore. Still around though, thanks to that witch, who I swear must have been nearsighted or something. Because how can you make a mistake like that? The skeletal remains of a werewolf do not resemble a recently deceased prince!
So here I am, yanked from my grave wandering the world as a zombie, all human bones and a decaying wolf head. I thought being a werewolf was hard, but this wolf zombie thing is the worst. I creak, I smell, and I still want to chase cars.
Yuck.
Be Afraid of the Dark 
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