“How much further?” huffed Karen. “We’ve been walking for hours.”

“Not much.” replied Jim. “and we’ve been walking an hour at best.

“Couldn’t we have driven here?” she moaned.

“No, the suspension wouldn’t take it.” They had walked for over an hour now.

“This place creeps me out and it’s getting cold.” desolate Hob’s Moor was not the most hospitable place in Devonshire.

“There it is.” Jim pointed excitedly to something white in the grass.

“Is that it?” asked Karen in dissapointment. It was the size of a cow’s skull, there was something strange about the shape of the eye-sockets and the teeth were long and pointed. “We walked all this way for a dead animal?”

“It’s the ancient Devilskull, I bring all my girlfriends here.”

Continue reading at Kyt Wright