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    Crescent Moon Masacre and other tales of horror
    Crescent Moon Masacre and other tales of horror
    Crescent Moon Masacre and other tales of horror
    Ebook38 pages36 minutes

    Crescent Moon Masacre and other tales of horror

    By G.R.V. Stone

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    About this ebook

    A witch's thirst for revenge releases terror on a small village. A farmhouse infest of the walking dead hides sinister motives. A lost wager gives a man new sight that leads to murderous deeds. A cranial growth revealed in shadows haunts a crooked congressman.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherG.R.V. Stone
    Release dateJul 29, 2010
    Crescent Moon Masacre and other tales of horror
    Author

    G.R.V. Stone

    G.R.V. Stone is an elusive and secluded author that puts a limitless value on his privacy. Having his face horribly disfigured in an aerobics incident involving Richard Simmons, a bottle of Jack and a half smoked pack of Winstons, the author chooses instead to use any number of scarecrow photos as his public face.

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      Book preview

      Crescent Moon Masacre and other tales of horror - G.R.V. Stone

      Crescent Moon Massacre

      By

      G.R.V. Stone

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2008 Derek A. Schneider. All rights reserved

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      By the time the witch came down the hill and out into the cluster of apple trees, it was too late. She sighed hopelessly as the smell of burning skin invaded her nostrils. Thoralisa had been caught by the humans and the foul beings had burned her. She had to be sure.

      Moving down and behind the small cabins that made up the village’s housing area, Agatha peered around the corner of one of the broken down old shacks. There, in the town’s center, was her sister’s funeral pyre. Agatha instantly recognized the burning form in the midst of the blaze even through the charred and blackened skin. It was the nose that gave her away. Long and bulbous, it resembled a dill pickle more than a nose. It was her own nose. The same nose that all women in their family had. In those raging flames she could see her future.

      She decided then and there that she wouldn’t let it come to that. These humans, with their holy ways and their unwillingness to except those that seemed different than them, would pay for their actions. They would pay dearly.

      Humans were an endangered species in Terra Ferna, and the law passed last year by the king made a harmful act against a human illegal and punishable by death. Though Agatha wasn’t afraid of death, she had no intentions of getting her own hands dirty. No, this was not a deed for a woman her age, witch or not.

      The morning sun shone down on her ancient skin as she weaved in between the swaying cornstalks. The harvest was nearly upon the village and soon the field would be reaped for the ears of corn that grew with delicious plumpness. The witch had come about a hundred yards or so into the crop before she reached the straw man that was hung there. Crucified for the sake of unmolested vegetables.

      Hello, my friend, Agatha said in scheming tone. The scarecrow didn’t answer. Instead, he continued to hang there, head down, unfeeling, unthinking.

      Opening the satchel that was strapped across her chest, she pulled out the rabbit from inside, holding it by the nape of the neck. With her free hand she produced a knife from a sheath that was strapped to her calf. With a flick

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