by Sydney Leigh


“I can show you my face,” it dared. Shapes of words dripped from serous holes and writhed in puddles at my feet. “But you might not like it.”

Something it had said? slithered up my leg, sucked my skin like a leech.

What could be worse than this?

“I have to know,” I whispered back, words I instantly regretted.

It withdrew its fleshy hood, revealed a countenance etched in infinite darkness so achingly familiar that blood rushed through me in waves and the parasites swelled.

“I warned you,” it scolded, but the words came from my own mouth this time.


Sydney Leigh is the evil literary double of a mostly sane writer, editor, photographer, artist, English teacher, and native of the North Shore. Look for her on Goodreads, Facebook, and at Villipede Publications, where she spends her days charming letters and constructing nightmares—or drop into her website at

About Russ Thompson

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This