Don’t Read from the Book!

This one is based on the weekly picture prompt from The Writer’s Mess below, and me watching the Mummy this weekend.  It is exactly the dark wtf you are probably expecting from me, and I think it’s similar to something I have written prior, but cannot seem to find now. Anyways, see what happens when you read from the book.


Whoever said nothing bad ever came from reading a book hadn’t read from the one that they held in their hands that night.  It was supposed to be one of those sleepover jokes, reading from the book that Larissa had picked up at the second had store. 

The book was old, not in Latin, but not exactly in middle-English either.  It was in that badly written English where you could sus out the words, but they were spelled wonky, and they had to sound it out one word at a time to figure out what it was saying.

They had all stood in the yard at midnight under the light of the full moon, dressed to the nines, post their usual sleepover makeovers to do it, just like the book called for.

It wasn’t the first sleepover they had, it was the last though. While the three of them were cleared in the deaths of the other four girls that were there that night, they never wanted to see each other, or that book ever again.

Maybe, if they were lucky, someday they would even be able to forget what had happened.

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