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The Axeman of Indiana

Don’t Go Out At Night

By Brandon CorlinPublished 6 months ago 2 min read

As the sun began to set over the small town of Millfield, Indiana, the locals went about their business, unaware of the horror that was about to unfold. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional car that drove by, and the only sound that could be heard was the gentle rustling of the autumn leaves.

Inside the old Victorian house on the edge of town, something sinister was brewing. The once-beautiful mansion had been abandoned for years, and many of the townspeople believed it to be haunted. They whispered stories of ghosts and ghouls that lurked within the walls, but little did they know that something much more terrifying was hiding within.

The maniac had been living in the house for weeks, unnoticed by the outside world. He had been watching the town, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And tonight was the night.

As the moon rose high in the sky, the maniac slipped out of the house, axe in hand. He made his way down the quiet streets, the only sound the soft thud of his boots hitting the pavement.

The first victim was a young woman, walking home from her job at the local diner. She never saw the maniac coming. One minute she was walking along, humming to herself, and the next, she was lying on the ground, her body twisted in unnatural ways.

The maniac moved quickly, his axe gleaming in the moonlight as he made his way through the town. He took down his victims one by one, each one more gruesome than the last. Blood stained the sidewalks, and screams echoed through the night air.

The townspeople were in a panic. They had never seen anything like this before, and they had no idea how to stop it. They locked their doors and windows, hoping that the maniac wouldn't find them.

But the maniac was relentless. He smashed his way through doors and windows, his axe swinging wildly. He seemed to have no motive, no reason for his killing spree. He was simply a force of pure evil, driven by an insatiable hunger for blood.

As the night wore on, the maniac grew more and more frenzied. He laughed as he hacked his victims to pieces, his eyes glowing with a wild, crazed energy. He was unstoppable, and the townspeople knew that they were in grave danger.

Finally, as the first light of dawn began to break over the horizon, the maniac vanished into the shadows. The town was left in ruins, its people traumatized and terrified.

No one knew where the maniac had gone, or if he would ever return. But one thing was certain - the horror of that night would never be forgotten. The memory of the axe-wielding maniac would haunt the town for years to come, a reminder of the darkness that lurks within all of us.


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