This week we’re supposed to use tactile descriptors, basing our entry on this photo:
The place looks innocent enough in the gold light of sunset. Nobody’s lived here in years, and of course the current inhabitant doesn’t live at all. There is rot in the air: rotting wood, rotting fabric…something else. Rotting. I know the smell of blood anywhere.
The steps creeeeeak, but I’m safe. He can’t rise until after dusk. The door bangs behind me as I enter. I retch on the death-filled air, but keep going.
The coffin’s lid makes the loudest creeeeeeak of all. I place the tip of the stake, raise my mallet…and his eyes snap open….