The Dark Winter by Flint Maxwell EPUB & PDF – eBook PDF Details Online
- Author: Flint Maxwell
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Genre: U.S. Horror Fiction, Horror Suspense
- Price: Free
- File Size: 2 MB
THERE WAS blood in the snow.
I stood about twenty feet away from the parking lot of a small grocery store,
squinting against the weak sunlight shining through the clouds. My heart was
thumping hard, and despite the cold, I thought I felt a trickle of sweat roll
down my back.
The reason for this surge of adrenaline was what lay before me.
About half a dozen bodies were piled near the store’s entrance, the red of the
blood a stark contrast to the white of the snow. There might’ve been more
buried deeper, I wasn’t sure.
I thought of turning back, moving as fast as I could, but I had come too far to
Still, in the back of my mind, I was wondering what had killed them. Was it
the monsters that came out in the darkness, or was it some person who’d lost
their mind like Ed Hark?
This much I knew for sure: it was murder…because you didn’t typically
bleed when you froze to death.
Helga had told me about the grocery store. It was called Penny Wiser’s. We
had been staying with her for at least a few weeks, and these were the best
days the four of us had lived since the snow started falling.
I took a step toward the pile of bodies. I was wearing a pair of old snowshoes
Helga dug out of her deceased husband’s closet. They were frequent visitors
of Avery’s Mills, a local ski resort, when Calvin Thompson was still living.
There were a few pairs, two of which were in decent condition. They looked
like large tennis rackets made out of wicker. I was amazed the first time I put
them on and walked outside. It made moving so much easier. Instead of me
sinking and the snow coming up past my waist, I only sank down a few
inches, but you couldn’t move fast and you had to be conscious about picking
up your feet. If you didn’t, you’d fall on your face like I had on more than a
few occasions. Tweaked my ankle in the process. It sucked.
Stuffed in the pocket of my too-short jeans was a small pistol. Hell if I knew
what kind it was. All I knew for sure was that if I pulled its trigger, it would
shoot, and that was all I needed to know. A ski pole was gripped in each of
my hands, helping me move through the arctic wasteland. These also once
belonged to Calvin Thompson.
The sun was out, but it brought no warmth. That was okay. We had learned
the shadows, the wraiths, weren’t fans of light of any kind. What the
monsters exactly were, we still had no idea. The term wraiths had popped
into my head a few days ago, and I had mentioned it in passing conversation,
and the term stuck after that.
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