Killer Treads Friday

One Writer Ranting

The web page flickered across Big Bob’s face as he stared at the ad. He couldn’t believe it, a great top of the line treadmill for only twenty dollars. He reached down and pinched the gigantic roll of fat around his waist.

“You my friend have to go.” He ran his hand through his middle aged hair then picked up the phone and dialed the number on the screen.

No answer.

A short story about a man who buys a twenty dollar treadmill and finds out too late that the machine has a taste for blood. A short story about a man who buys a twenty dollar treadmill and finds out too late that the machine has a taste for blood.

He held on a moment longer and just as he was about to hang up. Someone picked up. It was an old sounding voice; no not old, creaky was the word I was looking for. It had the feel and sound of one of those old doors that would swing open in a scary…

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