Rhys B. Crabtree
Bio
Originally from the Mississippi Gulf Coast (USA), I now live in the Lowcountry of South Carolina (USA) with my three cats.My larger work can be found at www.thesevenworlds.net and amazon.com/author/rhysbcrabtree
Stories (24/0)
Liars Into Lessons Part 8
I've lost count of how long it's been since he couldn't fight back or run anymore. I'd torn the ligaments that allow his hips to operate properly pretty early on after he'd managed to toss me into the coffee table. After a chase through the kitchen, under the dining table, and back out into the living room trading punches and kicks as we went, he'd managed to split my lip from a well-timed punch and I'd repaid him by blinding one of his eyes.
By Rhys B. Crabtree6 years ago in Horror
Liars Into Lessons Part 6
The shadows of the living room are deeper than the ones upstairs. They're all encompassing and as I step into the far corner that gives me an easy view of the stairs, whole living room, and the kitchen entrance, I let those shadows wrap around me like the arms of a lover. I snuggle into them like you would a favorite blanket on a cold, rainy night.
By Rhys B. Crabtree6 years ago in Horror
Liars into Lessons Part 4
I don't take my time with the harlot because the sound of someone dropping the toilet seat down clicks through the silence of the apartment and let's me know that at least one of my main targets is awake. Which annoys me because she is an adulterer, which I loathe nearly as much as I do liars, and as such she deserves the slow, painful death that befits her kind. Unfortunately, I just cannot take the chance that playing with her will alert the remaining two to my presence.
By Rhys B. Crabtree6 years ago in Horror
Liars Into Lessons Part 2
I carefully set the glass down on the welcome mat and roll my eyes at how cheery it is. Welcome to our home! It never fails to surprise me just how brainless people can be. Reaching into my pocket I pull out my tools and get to work on the simple deadbolt. I lean heavily against the doorjam while I work, swaying on my feet every so often like I'm drunk and struggling to get my keys to cooperate. It's dark on the "porch" that runs the length of the building, my liars having turned off the light once everyone arrived home and went to bed for the night. So stupid, leaving themselves open like this with a welcome mat that invites anything in, let alone a humanoid monster.
By Rhys B. Crabtree6 years ago in Horror
Liars Into Lessons
It begins with an itch under my skin; an insistent need to destroy something, to rip into someone and hear them scream. And it always starts when someone lies to me. When that lie turns into something bigger and I end up being used, end up being made out to be a monster? That itch becomes a rash that spreads and spreads until I can no longer tell if I ever had clear skin.
By Rhys B. Crabtree6 years ago in Horror
Monsters
Your body kind of sways to the sound of music heard in the distance as you clutch your gun closer hoping the twitters in the shadows heard down the alleys to each side of you aren’t monsters stalking you for dinner. I know what it is to fear those sounds that are echoes of memories from when you were little and hiding under the covers in mommy and daddy’s room because there were always skittering, twittering, scratching noises all around your room. Sounds that ignited into life the second the night light ran out of juice after your parents turned off the big lights for bedtime.
By Rhys B. Crabtree6 years ago in Horror