Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The town of Rook's Hollow had always feared the forest.

Dense and knotted like veins beneath the earth's skin, the trees grew too close together, whispering secrets no human wanted to know. People went missing in there. Animals came out… wrong. But none dared to speak of the Werebeast—a creature said to have made a pact with something older than time.

They called him Thorne, and his name was only whispered by firelight, with salt circling the hearth.

No one knew what he was—wolf, man, or something between—but when the moon swelled red and full, his howls cracked the sky, and his claws carved scripture into trees. Entire bloodlines vanished overnight. Survivors were found gibbering mad, their teeth replaced by thorns.

Elias Crowe, a grieving hunter whose family had been taken, sought answers. He didn't believe in curses or gods, but desperation has a way of making skeptics bleed faith.

So, he entered the Hollow with a satchel of silver and a book of forgotten rites—The Pact of Old Flesh, stolen from a mad friar's cellar.

By moonrise, he found Thorne.

The beast was massive—nine feet of twisted sinew and fur that shimmered like oil. Eyes green with rot and sorrow. And strangely… it did not attack.

Instead, it spoke.

"You seek vengeance," it growled. "But vengeance is a twin-headed beast. One head bites your enemy. The other… you."

Elias raised his blade, trembling. "Give me your curse."

Thorne laughed, a sound like branches snapping in frozen wind.

"So be it. But you must understand the price. You will slay your foes. But you will hunger after. You will lose names, faces, your reflection. You will be a shadow of a man, bound to blood and moon."

Elias nodded.

The pact was made in silence. Not with ink, but with a single bite.

Weeks later, Elias returned.

Changed.

He walked upright, but his shadow snarled. His eyes glowed with a cursed fire. The town cheered as he slaughtered the corrupt magistrates who sold out villagers to the forest's will. They praised the Beast of Justice.

But the moon comes again.

And again.

And now… he doesn't remember the names of his children. He can't recall his wife's voice. The mirror shows only fangs and eyes made for the hunt.

He howls beside Thorne now. Bound to the forest. To the hunger.

Together, they keep the pact alive.

Villagers still disappear.

Some say it's punishment.

Others believe the pact must be renewed every generation—one soul given to keep the Hollow from spilling into the world.

You'll know when it's time.

You'll feel it in your bones—like a growl behind your heartbeat.

And if a stranger knocks at your door on the red moon…

Don't answer.

Not unless you're ready to sign.