Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The old house at the end of Grimwood Lane had always been shrouded in mystery. No one dared to go near it, especially at night. The villagers spoke in hushed tones about the strange occurrences that surrounded the place—whispers of eerie sounds, sudden cold gusts of wind, and most unsettling of all, the eyes.

It was said that if you walked too close to the house after sundown, you would see them. Two glowing red eyes, staring out from the darkness, following you, burning into your soul. Some claimed they had seen them from a distance, peering out from the shadows, but no one had ever ventured close enough to see what those eyes belonged to. Those who did, never returned.

Young Billy had heard the stories all his life. He was the only one in the village who didn't believe in the legends. He was tired of the constant fear that kept everyone away from the old house, and he was determined to prove that it was all just superstitious nonsense.

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One chilly autumn night, Billy set out to put the rumors to rest once and for all. Armed with nothing but a flashlight and his resolve, he walked down Grimwood Lane, his heart pounding in his chest. The full moon cast long shadows across the road as he approached the house.

The closer he got, the heavier the air seemed to become. His flashlight flickered as if it was struggling to stay alive in the oppressive darkness. He paused at the gate, hesitating for just a moment, before pushing it open with a loud creak. The sound echoed in the silence, making his blood run cold.

He stepped into the overgrown yard, the tall grass whispering against his legs as he moved toward the front door. The windows were dark, lifeless. Billy reached for the doorknob, but before he could touch it, he felt it—the unmistakable sensation of being watched.

He turned slowly, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes locked onto the darkness behind him. There, in the shadows, two glowing red eyes stared back at him. They were not just watching—they were waiting.

Panic surged through Billy. He fumbled with his flashlight, but the light was dimming, the batteries dying. The eyes grew brighter, more intense, as they began to move closer, silently gliding through the darkness.

Billy's courage evaporated. He turned and bolted for the gate, but the path seemed longer, the distance stretching impossibly far. The eyes were gaining on him, the darkness closing in around him. His lungs burned as he ran, but the gate was nowhere in sight.

Suddenly, he tripped on something unseen and fell to the ground. The flashlight slipped from his grasp, rolling away as the last of its light flickered out. Billy was left in total darkness, with only the red eyes to guide him.

The eyes loomed over him now, a low growl emanating from the shadows. Billy's scream was swallowed by the night as the darkness claimed him.

The villagers found the flashlight the next morning, lying in the grass at the gate. But of Billy, there was no trace. The only thing left behind was a faint scent of something foul in the air and the uneasy feeling that something was still watching from the shadows.

The old house at the end of Grimwood Lane remained abandoned, its legend growing with each passing day. The eyes in the dark were real, and now, everyone knew it. No one ever dared to go near the house again.