A Collection of Horror Story Haiku
Alone in the dark,
low chuffing in the tall grass,
which way did they go?
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I fall from the bridge,
through memories toward my wife.
The coarse rope snaps tight.
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Faint heartbeat chides me
eviscerating the air,
through worn gray floor boards.
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Small town like Inwood
no one comes and no one goes,
not entirely.
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You can feel the smell
of blood soaked into concrete
reverent butcher.
