The loggers reached the dilapidated farmhouse amid stumps and foggy morning light.
“How?” one asked. “This wasn’t here when we clear-cut last week!”
He opened its door, then screamed facing a huge double pupil.
The house groaned, rising on arthropodic legs that emerged with the car-sized pincer that seized him.

Text is Copyright © 2018 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

Baba Yaga Baby
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There’s definitely some shade of that here, glad you enjoyed. :-)
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Nice 😊
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Thank you! :-)
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