100 word stories. Post all you like, maybe we'll dip in and use yours?
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Post by MonsieurMoustache »

I saw him dancing and swaying through the cornfields in the pale moonlight. A husk in tattered rags, his dead limbs creaked like an old barn door. I could feel it as he looked at me from the places where eyes used to be.

I've tried to get away from him, but still he follows me. He wants my feet to join the dance in line with his other victims. I hear the stomp stomp of his boots and I know he's there.

Where do you come from? Where do you go? Where do you come from Cotton Eye Joe?

Co-Written with Noah Van Buhren
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