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22 Maple Drive
The shadow slithered across the ground, as if it were a python. It coiled and consumed everything it touched; changing things into the same darkness it was originally made from. The shadow knew nothing, cared for no one, and was only driven by it’s instinct to kill. House after house it passed, searching for it’s next victim, which it found on 22 Maple Drive.
It poured through the keyhole as sand did in an hourglass. Sensing a weak being in the kitchen, it sped its ghoulish pace. It paused at the door, listening to the cheerful hum of an old woman cooking. It then made its move. It zigged, and zagged, making its way beneath the table, which the old woman was sitting at, until finally, it crawled up her leg and coiled around her torso, forcing her to inhale its gas like form.
The woman began to convulse: Her head thrashing from side to side, her eyes rolling up into her skull, and black ooze pouring from her mouth. She struggled, but she was too weak, the shadow now controlled her. Rising from her seat, she made her way into the living room, standing behind her two grandchildren as they watched television.
“Grandma, is dinner ready?” one asked, sensing his grandmother behind him. She grinned a black smile and replied.
“Why yes it is dear, but Grandma gets to eat first!”
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