#5 The Phantom Pompadour

| November 5, 2012 | 2 Comments

The witching hour, a night bird cries in the distance. A chill creeps into air, like the skeletal hand of death itself. You feel a clammy sweat covering your forehead. ┬áIs that faint surf guitar you hear-perhaps the revving of a distant hot rod? The ghostly image of rockabilly hair is seen, floating down the hall…

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Category: 2012, Horror, Humor

About the Author ()

Illustrator/Designer, American expatriate living in Sydney AU, about yea tall and I like most cheeses. You can find my daily sketchblog at: http://www.nathandrawsdaily.tumblr.com

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