Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Sheikha A. @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Benazir
by Sheikha A. 

to giving Venus a rainforest
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It has begun raining nightmares –
red-striped lizard tails like sleet
.
slaking her glass dome of reality.
She stealths the days on acid feet;
.
her nights, cloudburst of molten lead.
She has /been/ warned: forfeit shadow/s
.
to the spirit of charity – emerald fruit
plantations on her mercurial being –
.
no one can touch her dark tresses:
canopy over secret lands she sows.
.
They say her death was mysterious;
she was excavated from a distance
.
of failure. Flakes of ice sparked fire
where she stepped. They harnessed
.
what they could not co-in/habit –
howls of her crying: falling rain –
.
re/constructing her seal: tombs
of grace. Motes of unbreathable air
.
lay low and heavy; emerald flashes
of noiseless thunder. Her wails pulse
.
in her veins. The night, black velvet.
The cosmos, panther in the wind.
.
.
for Marge Simon, Krysia Jopek and Saad Ali
.
.
Fiction © Copyright Sheikha A.
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.

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More from author Sheikha A.:

Screen Shot 2019-12-17 at 10.57.17 AM.pngNyctophiliac Confessions:
Poems by Sheikha A. and Suvojit Banerjee

“The night is cold enough to inspire poetry,” says Sheikha A. in her poem, “Reading My Bones.” This is the basis of Nyctophiliac Confessions – poems that are introspective and luminal, poems that require a certain amount of silence and space to be fully formed and appreciated. Reading these poems, I imagined that they were the kind of poems that assert themselves unbidden during a bout of insomnia. (A nyctophiliac being someone who loves the night or loves darkness).

Nyctophiliac Confessions is the 17th installment of Praxis’ chapbook series and contains twenty-six poems written by two poets, Sheikha A. and Suvojit Banerjee, interspersed with abstract paintings by Robert Rhodes.

Available Here!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Lynn Ruzzo @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Invasive Species
by Lyn Ruzzo

As the newborn caps glowed in the soft moonlight, the flora around them shuddered with revulsion. These invaders did not belong. They were not of any kind the locals were familiar with. Their aura did not connect, their language was not the same. Fear deeper than any caused by bi-pedal infestation rooted itself within the forest’s conversation amongst itself.

The luminescent growth spread, and with it all succumbed to its conquering nature. It feasted on all that lived and died. It devoured the forest both from above and below. As it consumed, it reproduced, populating the dense land with nothing but itself.

As it reached the edge of that which was natural and it sensed the teeming world beyond, it prepared to spread until it could spread no more.

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Wicked Deeds: Witches, Warlocks, Demons and Other Evil Doer’s

Sometimes wicked people do wicked things simply because they can… The twelve stories in Wicked Deeds tell tales of witches and warlocks with ill intent, devilish demons bent on destruction, and other doers of evil who make the world a terrifying place. What is a mother to do when her daughter is gifted but lives under the thumb of her fanatical preacher husband who will brook no talk of the supernatural? What of a demon so desperate to free himself of a trap that he will force another to repeat his atrocities and condemn a young boy to his demonic fate? Or maybe the story of a crotchety old witch with a score to settle against the town she lives in is more to your liking – what evil will the seemingly harmless town-crazy call upon when faced with an ultimatum? If you’re looking for wicked people with supernatural abilities doing wicked things, this is the collection for you!

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Kim Richards @Kim_Richards @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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His Master’s Voice
by Kim Richards 

Nip remembered his father taking him down to the museum one summer. They walked among displays of varied and aged machines. They passed mechanical typewriters and a treadle sewing machine. His dad stopped before an old gramophone. He pointed to the metal disk atop the box and beneath the Morning Glory shaped horn.

“Wow,” Nip exclaimed. “I never knew the records were metal.”

He leaned over to peer close. Noticing a small dog sitting before an outline of a gramophone etched on the disc, he tilted his head a little and asked, “Why is there a dog on there? Is this a recording of a dog barking?”

Dad grumbled low and muttered, “It’s a logo of your namesake.”

Nip laughed. “What?”

“The dog is named Nipper; same as you.”

“You named me after a dog?”

“I just told you so.” The older man turned away and waved his arm for the boy to follow him. “Come.”

Nip never questioned the old man. He turned on his heel and followed.

Because of the memory, when Nip found a gramophone among his father’s things in the attic, it didn’t surprise him. He wondered why he never saw the old man play it. Perhaps it didn’t work.

Nip gathered the horn and the body, taking them downstairs in separate trips to avoid damaging either by accident. Once there, he set them on his kitchen table. Then he cleaned them off with a soft cloth, oiled the visible mechanical parts and affixed the horn in place.

He picked up the metal disc and held it up in his hands to look closer. The grooves circled its surface as expected. Nip marveled at how they could capture sounds and how such a tiny needle could bring them to life.

The familiar dog image was imprinted next to the center hole, along with the recording title:  His Master’s Voice.

“Hi Nipper,” he said to the little image. “Let’s see what you sound like.”

He carefully wiped down the disk and placed it on the center peg of the gramophone. Then, he grasped the handle and wound it twenty rotations. Unsure of how many turns to give it, he figured twenty worked for a first try.  He lowered the needle arm and sat back to listen.

At first the voice sounded scratchy, as if someone were sick with strep throat. Still, Nip recognized it as the voice of his father. He leaned in close, straining to understand the words. As the sound cleared a little, it sounded like poetry but in a language other than English. Something guttural and harsh he couldn’t place.

Mesmerized, Nip tilted his head as he often did when listening. Wispy red smoke streamed from his nose. His eyes widened he was unable to move any other parts of his body. The smoke thickened and darkened as it moved from his nose over to the gramophone horn, traveling deep inside.

The sound slowed as the mechanism wound down. Drowsiness replaced Nip’s fear and the smoke stopped. Then he closed his eyes forever.

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Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Nadia Corin @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Melon Head
by Nadia Corin

I don’t know why they pick on me, or call me names; what’s wrong with having stripes on your head? They have swirls, but who cares? It’s what’s inside that matters. They laugh and point, giggle and snort – they have no idea what it feels like to be treated this way.

But I’ve made a new friend that understands me. He’s different from his own kind, too. He doesn’t mind what I look like, doesn’t snicker or leer. We understand one another.

They don’t laugh any more, now that they’ve met my new friend. Because no matter his or my outside, the venom coursing through him works instantly, and he doesn’t like the way they treat me.

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Michelle Joy Gallagher @Aphelia @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Horizon 
by Michelle Joy Gallagher 

It should never have come to this. The longer Eliza sat at the bottom of the hill, the worse she felt. It had been 180 days since Frank… Since the ghosts from her past finally caught up with her. She went from housewife to vagabond instantly, living hand to mouth with the only possession allowed her: her father’s old car. She slept in the back seat all these weeks driving back toward her childhood home, hoping for some semblance of escape and now she had finally run out of fuel and strength. She cursed Frank, she cursed God, she cursed the old car and she cursed herself.

There were hours of nothing and more nothing. Then she sensed movement shimmering in the middle of the road some ways toward the east. She dared a glint of hope, but the form never grew nearer. A heat mirage flickering in the noon day sun and nothing more. The morning was cool but here in the open it was sweltering. She was sweating and it rolled down her face mixing with dirt. She was a wreck and the full weight of all those lonely weeks finally hit her full force. She began to sob heaving for breath until she was interrupted by a voice.

“Eliza.” Almost a low growl. Familiar and frightening.

It found her here in the middle of nowhere.

She looked up to find more nothing, just the faint glimmer on the horizon like before. She wiped her tears and stood up. Shielding her eyes she strained to see what it could be moving at the horizon.

“You should have known I wouldn’t leave your side.”

She was grasped around the waist and pulled toward the car by an invisible force. The door flung open and shut her in. She screamed and tried to get out but the door wouldn’t budge. The heat was oppressive and she gasped for breath. Soon she grew weak and lay her head against the window. She looked up, eyes losing focus as she faded out.

Frank stood there at the door, grinning down at her.

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Fiction © Copyright Michelle Joy Gallagher
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Michelle Joy Gallagher:
31dLq1v2KHL._SX308_BO1,204,203,200_Disremembering
Welcome to Blackhawk, Colorado. Blackhawk has always been strange. Natural disasters. Disappearances. Murders. High strangeness is a part of daily life. We can’t hope to explain it, but we can chronicle its past. Learn from it. Fear it. Blackhawk is an experimental fiction series set in a shared universe, written by a variety of talented authors. It is the brainchild of David M Brown (Plague Doctor, Modern Animals) and Carl D Smith (Moleb the Giant, Darkness Out of Carthage). Each story will contribute to an organic, evolving mythology as diverse as the voices behind its tales. For fans of True Detective, Lost Highway, Twilight Zone, and The Terror. This is Volume Two of the series and contains five stories by five different authors, each in tune with the specific strangeness Blackhawk has to offer. NOTE: For fans of Lake Lord Publishing’s prior horror titles, be warned that Blackhawk will contain content that is perhaps more disturbing and mature.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Rie Sheridan Rose @RieSheridanRose @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Do No Harm… 
by Rie Sheridan Rose 

My husband is ill.

Given his proclivities, and the resemblance he bears to my father, who was his age, I am not surprised. With his corpulence, and the drinking till almost dawn, I am merely surprised it took this long.

I did the expected thing. I rushed to the apothecary and begged for help. We have no established physician in the village. Poor Marta does what she can, but she is overworked and out of her depth. Still, she sent me here to the forest to fetch mushrooms for a poultice that should make him well.

I searched until I found what she was asking for. The slender brown mushrooms that all know are safe for all manner of things—from soup to the desired poultice. But I also found something else.

And that is what has me sitting here in the dirt weighing my options.

Beside the helpful brown mushrooms, I found some of the Dead Man’s Blood that my mother always warned me not to touch. Even the briefest contact can poison you.

So, I sit here and remember…the pain of his brutality; the taunting scoffs of my uselessness; the working from dawn till dusk without a word of thanks ever.

I wonder what life would be like if I were free…

Marta is bound by the doctor’s oath to do no harm, even if she isn’t technically a doctor. But I…I have no such stricture. And the purple is so beautiful.

Who would guess how deadly it is?

 
Fiction © Copyright Rie Sheridan Rose
Image courtesy of
Pixabay.com

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Overheard in Hell:
Dark Poetry

Poems exploring hell and damnation. Tales of sorrow, vengeance, betrayal, and redemption. Ghosts, ghouls, and demons stalk these pages. Don’t read in a lonely house…in a darkened room by a single candle…

…unless you like the touch of an icy finger up your spine.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author K.R. Morrison @KRMorrison2 @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Quentin
by K.R. Morrison 
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She hummed The Tune as she tidied her sitting room. As she waltzed, thinking of HIM in her arms, her glance went to the gramophone sitting on a small table by her favorite chair.

She hadn’t even considered going to the auction, but something had compelled her to attend, and she was forever grateful to whatever powers had convinced her to go.

For there it sat—the very gramophone that HE had listened to—the poor, cursed soul who had haunted her dreams ever since she was a girl. That television soap opera—better than any that had gone before or would ever follow after.

She had paid far more than her meager allowance could afford, but she felt as if she had had no choice. The instrument had been calling to her, in a way.

She fluttered down into her chair, remembering the times she had stolen over to her neighbors’ house to watch the ongoing drama of this show, especially the episodes concerning the drop-dead gorgeous man who had become one of the cursed inhuman—a werewolf.

Oh, how she had wished for a chance to comfort him, to help him rise above the ignominy that had fallen upon him!

The music grew in her mind, blocking out everything else, until she fell asleep humming to herself.

After a most peaceful sleep, she sat blissfully in her chair with her eyes closed, thinking back on her dreams.

It wasn’t long before her senses woke, making her realize that something wasn’t quite right.

First of all, it was now nighttime, from what she could see through the windows…

…which were not hers!

She sat bolt upright and looked around, alarm in her heart.

This was not her room! This room was appointed entirely in Victorian furniture and decorations. Incredibly enough, it looked like one of the sets in the TV show she had fallen in love with all those many years ago.

She heard a stirring to her left, and chanced a look in that direction.

That glance immediately became a full-on stare. For, incredibly, there was another presence in the room!

It was…HIM! There he sat, in a chair that did not belong to her, in a room she had never been in.

But that look in his eyes! She remembered that agony, as he fought to quell his cursed needs.

His eyes caught hers, and she fell into that glance, that soulful, agonized glance…

At that same moment, the full moon broke through the clouds outside the window…

 
Fiction © Copyright K.R. Morrison
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.

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More from K.R. Morrison:

Enoch’s Return: Pride’s Downfall Book 4

All hell broke loose, as demon fought saint, and undead fought mortal. Fangs and swords, fire and light, mingled in a cacophony of noise that would have awakened the dead — if they hadn’t already been in the pitch of battle.

Toby was looking forward to celebrating his 21st birthday with family and friends. However, the day is shattered by the arrival of his sister, Erica, fresh out of the juvenile detention center, where she has lived in isolation most of her life. There is something very wrong with her still; witness her biting the ear of her taxi driver and licking the blood from her lips, and the way she antagonizes everyone around her. The other thing that is very off-putting about the day is a gift he receives – a musty tent and a few iron spikes that have been lying in the ground for years. Toby faints at the sight of the “treasure,” while Erica reacts violently and runs off to who-knows-where.
While he is unconscious, Toby learns who he truly is, and of his mission.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Elizabeth H. Smith @bethsmithwrites @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Lifecycle
by Elizabeth H. Smith

A dream within a dream, she appeared as I slept, deep in my mind. She spoke with a soft voice
and with gentle words. But they spoke of terrible things. Things to come, things that were soon
to go…

She hushed my want to tell the world what was coming. I was special. I’d been chosen and my
fate was decided. There was no choice in the matter. I begged and begged to save them, to
save them all. But she told me it could not be done.

As was told, I survived the end. I watched everything and everyone die. I wanted to join them in
mass extinction, but I knew I had a purpose. Once all was gone, I walked the barren Earth,
seeding life wherever I went so it could begin anew.

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More About Elizabeth H. Smith:
Elizabeth H. Smith is a storyteller who writes while trying to keep her cat, Luna off the keyboard. The musical group, Rasputina is her muse. She was born in the state of New York and would never feel at home anywhere else.

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Through Clouded Eyes: A Zombie’s Point of View

Through Clouded Eyes: A Zombie’s Point of View: a collection of twelve stories told from the Zombie’s perspective.

They’re shambling toward you, feet dragging on the broken roadway. Arms outstretched, faces slack, they move as if they’re tracking your scent on the wind. You want to run, but you know there’s nowhere to hide.

Aware of their insatiable hunger, fear paralyzes you. These things were once human, people someone loved. Is there anything left inside them – some sliver of humanity that may save you from this nightmare? Your mind doesn’t want to accept the inevitable, a single thought consumes you: what are they thinking?

With your chance of escape dwindling, you snap out of it and run like hell knowing there is little to no hope; fate is coming for you. Soon you will see what they see Through Clouded Eyes…

Featuring stories from Maynard Blackoak, Calvin Demmer, Paul M. Feeney, Stacy Fileccia, Trevor Firetog, DH Hanni, Shannon Lawrence, Josh MacLeod, Zachary O’Shea, Neal Privett, Mark Steinwachs, and Alex Woolf

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Melissa R. Mendelson @melissmendelson @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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I’m a Hot Bitch on Wheels
by Melissa R. Mendelson 

My arm was killing me, and blood was pouring down fast.  My heart was screaming in my chest.  Funny enough, my mind was only focused on one word.  MOVE.  Sweat ran down my skin, and finally, I saw it.  That damn car that I needed to survive, but last night, I craved sleeping in a bed.  Yeah, I’ll be safe, I thought, and now I’m running for my life.

I slid across the hood of the metallic beast, swung around and dove into the driver’s seat.  My hand slammed on the steering wheel, shimmered from pale flesh to dark gray metal, and the beast roared to life.  The rearview mirror tilted down, and yes, they were coming for me, smelling the implants buried beneath my skin.  And my foot hit the gas pedal.  Sorry guys, but I’m a hot bitch on wheels.  Yeehaw.

The horde ate my dust as I peeled off, and I glanced down at my arm.  She tore it open pretty good, and damn, she was quiet.  I never heard her sneak into the room, creep upon me as I slept, and then she was quick, ripping open my skin and eating my flesh.  I hope it doesn’t become infected.  I hope she didn’t get to the implants.  I’m gonna need my gun, and I’m gonna need it soon.  But first, I have to stop the bleeding.

Most models no longer have cigarette lighters.  Fuck that, I said.  If I want to smoke, then smoke them if you got them.  I pushed the cigarette lighter in, waited for it to warm up, and the beast roared again.  The road was clear.  Well, except for the bodies and debris, and the buildings were deceiving.  The people were either dead, hiding or infected.  The fucking zombie apocalypse except it wasn’t from disease.  It was caused by malfunctioned computer chips, and the cigarette lighter popped out.  I howled with fury as my skin burned, burnt flesh out the half open window.  Come on.  Dinner’s ready, and so were they, pouring out of the buildings like rabid animals.

“Shit,” I grumbled, and the beast coughed.  “Don’t cut out on me now, girl.  We’re hot and tearing up the road.”  I glanced down at my arm.  No sign of infection.  Yet.  “Damn it.”  I saw the bent, stumbling, twisted bodies of what were once people folding among each other, arms outward, begging for a piece of my car, thirsting for me.  “I guess I’m gonna have to do it,” and I didn’t want to.  It was going to hurt like hell.  “Shit,” I said again.

I slammed my injured arm down on top of the dashboard and pressed my hand against the windshield.  My pale flesh turned metallic grey, the implants activated, and a hole formed in the windshield.  My fist now a cannon aimed at the horde, and small sonic booms exploded, knocking the people, or what were once people down.  And my car finished them off, bumping up and down as I plowed into the rest of them.

“I’m not gonna make it,” but my foot never left the gas pedal.  My arm screamed with every blast.  My other hand steadied the wheel.  Somehow, I kept on until the last of them met my tires, and clear road waited up ahead.  Few bodies, some debris, but clear enough for me to tear up road and keep on going, leaving nothing but dust and broken bone behind.

My arm returned to its normal state, and I finally breathed.  I would move on to the next town, me and my beast.  Hopefully, there would be some quiet time waiting for me.  I glanced at my arm, some of the skin had darkened, black.  I’ve seen that color before, that color on them, my heart froze.  No, it’s just the burn from the cigarette lighter.  I’m fine.  I’m a hot bitch on wheels, but my beast knew different.  I could feel it as I forced the car to drive, and like the blood stained on my arm, the sun saturated the sky.

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Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
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About Author Melissa R. Mendelson:

Melissa R. Mendelson is a Poet and Horror, Science-Fiction, and Dystopian Short Story Author.  Publications featuring her writing can be found here: https://linktr.ee/melissarmendelson

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Kathleen McCluskey @KathleenMcClus4 @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Luke 
by Kathleen McCluskey 

Luke stepped out of the star cruiser onto the foreign planet. He kicked at the dried dirt. His helmet seemed to be too heavy for him; he adjusted it, “This planet is nothing but dust. I don’t know who told us that there was water on this world but they were sadly mistaken.” As the twin suns began to set Luke could see the reflection of water on the blackened horizon. “Wait! Wait! I think I see water.” He began to sprint towards the shimmering impression of liquid.

The rover that had the rest of the crew followed quickly behind him. Luke stopped on a ledge that was at the top of a large chasm. He was in awe at what he saw. His shipmates got out of the vehicle and were also stunned at the sight that was below them.

“Have…have you ever seen colors like that?” Luke gasped. “Look how vibrant they are. They are so bright that it feels like it should hurt my eyes but mine are fine. Jordan?” Jordan only shook his head. They looked at each other and began to descend into the crater.

When they got to the bottom they could hear a soft humming and muffled chimes. They stopped and listened. Jordan pointed towards the origin of the sound. There were abundant trees and tall grass reminiscent of Earth. All of it seemed to have an internal luminescence as it swayed. It purposely touched the legs of the men as they walked. Suddenly the grass came to an abrupt end; they stood on the shore of a large pond. The neon purple bioluminescence of the mushrooms shone the brightest as they hummed in unison. The two men began to become entranced as bright pink spores began to cling to their spacesuits. The dust began to grow; veins of purple and pink shot across their torsos. The bulbous throbbing vessels began to pulse in deeper hues, then lighter, then darker; in unison. There were no recognizable human features left as the pulsing blob sank into the ground. Puddles of blood boiled to the surface along with clean human bones. The plants surrounding the puddles began to sway and hum in concert. The rest of the crew had already heard the siren song and their fate was sealed.

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Fiction © Copyright Kathleen McCluskey
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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More from Kathleen McCluskey:

The Long Fall: Book 1: The Inception of Horror

Lucifer always cunning and intelligent challenges father to a battle of wits. Being the angel of light he casts a judgemental eye upon mankind. He begins a war with his fellow archangels and God. Michael, along with his siblings defend their home and mankind from their deranged brother. Broad swords and hand to hand combat drench heaven in blood. The four apocalyptic steeds are released, each having their own destructive power. Betrayal and lust are at biblical levels. Understand the very creation of evil and the consequenses that transpire in the first of THE LONG FALL series.

Available on Amazon!

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