Samples of my "inktobers of 2025" this year

 Vacant

On the edge of town, where the fog clung to the trees like damp rags, a single streetlight flickered over the old cemetery gate. Every Halloween, people whispered about the Vacant One—a zombie that wandered out from the graves, its eyes dull and hollow as old marbles.

It never moaned or reached—it simply watched, motionless beneath the lone streetlamp.

Kids dared each other to shout its name or shine a light in its face. Most ran before getting close.  But it never blinked. Never moved. Just stared back.

But one boy didn’t. He stepped right up to it, heart pounding, and stared into those empty, vacant eyes.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then his reflection blinked first—and smiled.

The next morning, there were two figures with vacant stares waiting by the gate.

Button

During World War I, buttons were used in surgery as “suture buttons” or “button bolsters” to distribute tension across wounds and prevent sutures from tearing through tissue—a recognized medical technique, not just a battlefield improvisation.

 

Inferno

Rivals

On July 11, 1804, two political rivals met on a dueling ground in Weehawken, New Jersey. Alexander Hamilton's shot went high—perhaps deliberately, perhaps not. Aaron Burr's shot hit Hamilton in his abdomen, pierced his liver, and lodged in his spine. Hamilton died the next day.

Puzzling

Mary Jane Kelly, the youngest and final known victim of Jack the Ripper, was murdered in her small Whitechapel room on November 9, 1888. She was a young woman struggling to survive in poverty, and her death was the most brutal of the Ripper’s crimes. Though her killer was never found, Mary Jane deserves to be remembered not for the violence she suffered, but for the life and humanity that were taken from her.

 

The Monkey's Paw

The White family received a magical monkey’s paw that could grant three wishes. Skeptical, Mr. White wished for 200 pounds—and soon their son, Herbert, died in a workplace accident, leaving them the exact sum. Overcome with grief, Mrs. White urged her husband to wish Herbert back. That night, he returned—but as an unnatural, terrifying thing. Horrified, Mr. White used the final wish, and when the door opened, no one was there.

Lesson: Be careful what you wish for.

 

Second Skin

On Halloween night, the old graveyard behind Miller’s Farm stirred with a sound like rattling dice. From a cracked tomb, a skeleton crawled out, its empty sockets gleaming with cold hunger. It wandered toward the town, where laughter and candlelight filled the streets. The skeleton loved how the living looked — warm, soft, full of color. So it began to collect… not bones, not trinkets — but skin.

One by one, it found the stragglers — a boy lost on his way home, a man cutting through the woods, a woman waiting for her ride. Each time, it peeled away what it needed, wrapping the stolen skin over its rattling frame, patch by patch.

By morning, the town awoke to see a stranger among them — pale, stiff, smiling too wide. No one noticed the seams along its neck, or how its hands looked too tight, as if the skin had been stretched to fit.

And every Halloween after, someone new appears — always a little quieter, always a little colder… and always wearing a face you almost recognize.