Artie Margrave is a developing writer of horror fiction.
When I woke up this morning, I was frozen, rigid. Not that I could not move. I was caught in something's embrace, something warm and hairy, and my waking awareness was groggy at best.
The thing that wrapped tightly around me was filled with ugly wrinkles. With its deep, blood-red countenance, engulfing length and millions of tattered cilia, it kept me in bondage, pinned on my back, helpless.
Then the tantalising aroma of seasoned chicken stew wafted into the room and filled my nose, waking me up completely.
I cast my bedsheet aside and hurriedly made for the kitchen.
Artie Tobi Margrave likes Lauren Scharhag