Autumn is an eerie season. The nights get longer, the air colder. The ground becomes wet and boggy. The leaves turned to skeletons reaching for the void above. Autumn is a season when spirits are out, most prominently around Halloween. But even the more festive Yule season has quite a creepy edge itself.
In celebration of the spookier side of Autumn, I've been taking pictures of appropriately seasonal scenes and using them as inspiration for some two-sentence horror stories. Here are five of them, with the pictures that inspired them. You can check out more of my two-sentence horror stories here, here and here.
Glastonbury, CT 1:34 PM
Their anger only grew each day that their faces remained uncarved and their interiors unlit by the soul-candles of the Returned Dead for whom they’d been grown. Now they have found a place with plenty of fresh souls and they will claim them all, whether or not the original owners are actually dead.
Their anger only grew each day that their faces remained uncarved and their interiors unlit by the soul-candles of the Returned Dead for whom they’d been grown. Now they have found a place with plenty of fresh souls and they will claim them all, whether or not the original owners are actually dead.
Rocky Hill, CT 9:30 AM
They found him lying in the fallen leaves under his great-grandmother’s magnolia, quite dead and covered in thousands of tiny, ring-shaped bites. So preoccupied were they with his body that none noticed the crimson droplets glistening on the tips of the tree’s winter buds.
Middletown, CT 11:34 PM
Peering out the frost-edged windows, I saw a mote of green phosphorescence bobbing over the tall marsh grass and assumed it was just the ghost of Mr. Jameson out for a midnight stroll. Only when the glow moved closer did I see that it emanated from a collection of human heads trapped within the transparent belly of a beast whose own head and limbs were hidden by the darkness.
Cromwell, CT 1:23 PM
No matter where we move, the water tower always finds us eventually. It still believes we are its children, and it will not sleep until it has absorbed us all into its rotting wooden womb.
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East Hampton, CT 12:48 PM
When I finally worked up the courage to peer into that ruined tower, I saw only a carpet of ferns and nothing more. Not until I went to sleep that night did I see what lay beneath them and realize the fate of that thing that we’d chased out of the little door under the cellar stairs last autumn.
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