Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Asena Lourenco @ElaLourenco @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_02_JulyLOHDays End
by Asena Lourenco

The shining blue popping out bright,
As they float about in the dead of the night,
Glowing like stars and the large, strong sun,
And all coming together as a force, as one,
But until the day of death which sadly came as told,
Removing all livings things with hearts of gold,
Gone with the blue butterflies flapping their wings,
Gone with the mushrooms and other beautiful things,
Gone with all life and all creatures around,
Gone with all music, and every single sound,
Stolen from whom but the selfish, greedy king,
The leader of all, those dead and living,
The lord of all has taken from us,
The holy one, Christ, our very own Jesus.
Fiction © Copyright Asena Lourenco
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More about Asena Lourenco:

Asena Lourenco is 12 years old. She loves reading, playing Scottish traditional fiddle music on her violin, dancing, and martial arts as well as writing her own stories.

She would like to be a teacher and writer when she grows up. She also loves cats and babies!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Lydia Prime @LydiaPrime @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_04_JulyLOH

Next Meal
by Lydia Prime

“Hello?” Whimpering from the darkness startled cautious visitors; their footsteps came to a standstill. “Is, is someone there?” The voice asked weakly. 
Twenty feet from the opening, they huddled close together, not sure where the voice had come from. A summer breeze blew through the open room, wafting the scent of fear and sweat toward the damp chasm.
“I can hear you, please, help me,” the voice pleaded and the feet crept closer, certain a little girl was calling to them. Heel to toe, they made it to the edge and peered down, their flashlights just barely able to penetrate the darkness; perhaps a trick of the light, but one was certain something skittered across the ground from one corner to the other.
“Hurry, please!” She called out again; her voice was beginning to sound impatient and less distressed. The men looked at each other before deciding which one of them would go down there and save the girl. With a heavy sigh, the smaller of the two began his descent into the darkness
CRACK. CRUNCH.
“Help me!” He shouted to his friend. The sound of flesh tearing from bone echoed through the cavernous pit; a scream from below drove right through the man trembling above. Hesitantly, he shined his light below and saw his friend scattered all over the floor and walls. His breath caught in his throat, Where was the … thing that did this!?
Rapid scraping against metal; it was coming. His mind blank, his body failing to remember how to move, to scream; helpless and frozen he stayed as a white creature exited the concrete opening. It had the horns of a stag and the face of a decomposing ram; its slender body turned, showing the butchery that covered its matted fur. Tears began to well in the man’s eyes as it showed off knifelike claws, tapping them together and watching as the crimson bits dribbled from each one. 
“Delicious, but still…” came the warbled female voice, as its red eyes locked on its next meal.
Fiction © Copyright Lydia Prime
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More about Lydia Prime:

Lydia grew up in a small, ‘Mayberry,’ sort of town, in New Jersey. She thoroughly enjoys gummy bears and laughing through the darkest depths of life. More often than not, she writes about demons and monsters, however, being a recovering addict, she likes to turn inner demons into fearsome foes to be fought beyond the constraints of the mind.

Please visit Lydia on Facebook for more info. 

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Selah Janel @SelahJanel @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_03_JulyLOH
The Workshop
by Selah Janel

Her parents praised her for being calmer, sweeter, better. Her manners were exquisite, her performance at school so improved! Who would complain about a perfect child, even if she slipped out at night on occasion and walked the cobblestone streets long before the lamp boys could put out the street lights.
She probably sleep-walked, they said. She’d grow out of it. And if, by chance, she wandered far from home to a nondescript alley, it didn’t matter, because no one knew. She was always back before dawn.
“Do they know?” Father (her real father) always asked once she was safely inside, back at home with all the comfortable smells of oil and grease and the lingering copper of blood. Elise could tick as loud as she wanted here. She didn’t have to work so hard to express emotions or understand feelings. She and her siblings could be free to be themselves in the loving expanse of The Workshop.
“No. They only marvel at how perfect their daughter has become.” She let Father put the tubes into her arm panels to refresh her fluids. It was a relief when he peeled back the skin on her neck to make sure her gears weren’t bent and still ran smoothly. Only Father would notice the fine line that designated her face panel, would make sure her mechanics and circuitry still functioned underneath the innocent exterior.
Johnny and Cynthia were in the corner, presumably for repairs. They’d been rumored as missing, though those in The Workshop knew it was only because they’d been caught in the rain.
“Father, why replace the town’s children with us?” She was certain he had a good reason. He always did.
“Human children are messy and full of problems, but parents are too attached to agree to replacements on their own. They need a nudge.” Of course. Elise nodded and settled in for her tuning, but her eyes blinked open at a sudden thought. It didn’t bother her – her thoughts never did, but they were itchy until she voiced them.
“So what happens to them if the parents are happy with us and don’t know?”
“Research is expensive, dear girl.” She liked when Father called her that; it made her know she had done something right. Unlike the town parents, praise from her real father meant something.
“And we can’t have two versions of people running around. Organs fetch a nice price these days. Organs and cadavers. Doctors need specimens, though soon bodies will be obsolete altogether. You’re making friends and will bring them here?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Good, good. First we’ll secure the children, then we’ll start on the adults. Society will be so much better when everyone is at peak performance, ticking along! And healthy adults fetch a pretty penny from doctors and resurrection men, and maintenance isn’t free.”
She didn’t need to smile for Father, but she did, anyway. Before she closed her eyes and settled in to have her gears cleaned and her oil topped off, she allowed herself that smile. That was one thing she couldn’t provide herself – real human organs and bodies of flesh, but she knew where she could find them. They were all around. If that’s what Father wanted, she’d get them for him.
In her wound-down state of rest, Elise smiled and dreamt of flesh, blood, and dead bodies. Dawn couldn’t come fast enough.
Fiction © Copyright Selah Janel
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Author Selah Janel:

Mooner

Like many young men at the end of the 1800s, Bill signed on to work in a logging camp. The work is brutal, but it promised a fast paycheck with which he can start his life. Unfortunately, his role model is Big John. Not only is he the camp’s hero, but he’s known for spending his pay as fast as he makes it. On a cold Saturday night they enter Red’s Saloon to forget the work that takes the sweat and lives of so many men their age. Red may have plans for their whiskey money, but something else lurks in the shadows. It watches and badly wants a drink that has nothing to do with alcohol. Can Bill make it back out the shabby door, or does someone else have their own plans for his future?

Available on Amazon!

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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Lori R. Lopez @LoriRLopez @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction #poem #poetry

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_02_JulyLOHBitter Skies
by Lori R. Lopez

The Butterflies are back.
In waves of thick silent menace, on wings
of dusty brilliant hues they dive. And we rush
for cover, dreading them more than
most of the mutants. Changelings we call them.
Evolution, survival, a deranged unnatural
ecosystem modified species to adapt,
while others died off. Insects, almost extinct,
rebounded. We are now more vulnerable.
Society collapsed in the wake of countless
disasters and threats, a series of plagues. I fear
these bitter skies will never be friendly again . . .
After the Butterflies descend for a meal,
they transform to rugged Killer Beetles,
and those are a dozen times worse.
Huddled in an old building,
an abandoned cityscape, my group
peers through large grime-encased windows
attacked by a famished swarm battering
the glass with incessant thirst
and fish-tooth fangs. Roaming scouts
caught our scent and sounded a telepathic alarm,
a pulse of electricity ringing the Dinner Bell —
bringing a dense cloud
of paper-thin wings out of the sky.
In one fell and frenzied swoop they are
driven to feed, an astonishing sight . . .
The Flutterbys have this cunning deceptive
beauty, hypnotic and disarming. Duping us to
look in rapt wonder. Until they strike
and the blood begins to spill, turning to
red mud beneath our feet. Those of us who
still can flee must stagger to the nearest shelter,
arms fanning, palms smacking flesh,
swatting air in horror and chaos.
Scrambling to escape their latest assault,
a distant scene had surfaced,
unwelcome, flitting to memory from
a very different age . . .
The ragged annals of Childhood.
Watching a gentle Butterfly land on
my finger as a girl. Innocently awed,
I gazed at the delicate shape.
Needle-fine teeth sank in and I screamed.
My mother swept me up
before a flurry of the devils surrounded us
to feast and drain each drop of fluid
within seconds. I felt on fire, bitten, burning.
A shudder racks me now, decades since.
Just grateful there are no Bees. Glimpsing
a subsequent barrage of bodies . . .
Colliding, falling to lie stunned, less pretty,
less colorful and fragile. Those who fed
twitch and contort, a garish metamorphosis.
Once the flight of vampiric flowers
subsides, dead or altered, it is time to move out,
flee a legion of crawlers. Fatigued and
traumatized, suffering throes of
disorders and syndromes, mental ravages,
we stumble in search of fresh sanctuary,
hoping to hide and catch some winks before
the next time we are tracked or detected.
Found. We gave up everything, our homes,
our pets, to exist as fugitives. There is no peace,
no chance to rebuild or feel safe. We pray
not to encounter fog laden with Mosquitoes . . .
Each new refuge harbors threats,
yielding hazards we could never imagine
during saner days. Our minds
were ignorant to how deadly our world,
this dreadfully warped Greenhouse people helped
construct, might be. Along the road we
gather mushrooms, berries, roots and leaves,
whatever scraps and morsels escape
their jaws. One lesson we learned is how it feels
to be dinner: chased, targeted, consumed.
We prefer not to shed blood, either Pacifists or
paranoid that something would smell it.
Besides, we cannot predict the consequences
of feeding on creatures deformed by human folly.
The chemicals and poisons that pollute air,
water, every living thing on the planet.
We are tainted enough already.
There has to be a point when the balance tips
and cell walls crumble like fortresses,
unable to hold off invasion. It is even
highly perilous to eat plants or fungus,
nuts or seeds. Laced with Arsenic, Lead,
so many terrible ingredients.
The stuff of Pesticides, Industry, Fall-Out . . .
Radioactive, we glow in the dark,
making us easier to spot. Our lives will be
shortened one way or another.
Yet there is a ray of hope. Some of us
have proved resilient as Cockroaches
to these devastating contaminants. To the
mass suicidal tendencies of madmen —
corrupt scientists and businessmen, the leaders
and politicians who doomed us to this
recurrent nightmare by action or inaction . . .
who led us over the brink into an Apocalypse
of climate and crops, fuel and ego . . .
of tinkering with Nature and Elements,
the fundamental order. I wish all of them
could see what they have wrought.
The rest of us are forced to view,
with front-row seats, the consequence —
as strange atrocities unfold.
Fiction © Copyright Lori R. Lopez
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Lori R. Lopez:

LoriRLopez_Darkverse Darkverse: The Shadow Hours

A rich gathering of poetry with a dismal twilight atmosphere, a brooding nature, an eerie tone . . . DARKVERSE: THE SHADOW HOURS encompasses such pieces written by Lori R. Lopez between 2009 and 2017, collected in three of her POETIC REFLECTIONS volumes along with humorous and serious verse. This ample compendium allows a more focused reading experience and mood — presenting poems that share speculative themes, flashes of horror, glimpses of madness.

Lori is the author of THE DARK MISTER SNARK, THE STRANGE TAIL OF ODDZILLA, LEERY LANE, MONSTROSITIES, AN ILL WIND BLOWS, and THE FAIRY FLY among other tales. She has been called a storyteller, whether composing verse or prose.

The aim of her Darkverse series is to offer a chilling trek through unlit stretches where all manner of creeps and kooks may lurk; where graveyards and bogs and full-moons abound. The pages of The Shadow Hours illuminate those morbid uncanny perils and dreads that inhabit drab corners, the known and unknown terrors of the night. Vivid and distinct, her voice echoes our worst fears then delves beyond, exposing hitherto unimaginable frights.

Prepare to confront a motley array of ghouls and menaces that might just move under your bed.

DARKVERSE: THE SHADOW HOURS is an Elgin Award Nominee and a 2018 Kindle Book Awards Poetry Finalist. Look for an Illustrated Print Edition with quirky art by the author.

Available on Amazon!

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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Poetry, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Terrie Leigh Relf @TLRelf @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_01_JulyLOHWhen Death Came for Her
by Terrie Leigh Relf

She longed to look Death in the eyes,
to catch just a glimpse of the other side.
Gazing upward at the darkening skies,
could life be a realm she couldn’t abide?
To catch just a glimpse of the other side,
she offered Death a compromise:
“If life is a realm I can no longer abide,
could we co-exist before my demise?”
She offered Death a compromise,
to embody her, their love glorified.
“Did we co-exist before my demise?
I often would that it had been otherwise . . .”
He embodied her, their love glorified!
Gazing upward at the darkened skies,
“Did we co-exist before my demise?”
At last Death looked into her eyes.
Fiction © Copyright Terrie Leigh Relf
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Terrie Leigh Relf:

The Sisterhood of the Blood Moon

For thousands of Earth years, the Transgalactic Consortium has had a quiet interest in this planet and its inhabitants, the Haurans. While the Sisterhood of the Blood Moon works together with the Consortium and Haurans to maintain balance in the universe, the Blood Moon is fast approaching. The power of this moon reveals untold secrets . . . including a sacred covenant with the Mora Spiders. There is an ancient pact that needs to be honored—but at what cost and for whose purpose? The world may come to an end. But will there be a chance for a new beginning?

Available for purchase from the Alban Lake Store!

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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Nina D’Arcangela @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_04_JulyLOH

Forgotten
by Nina D’Arcangela

Hell has laid claim to places on this earth, places that are lost, forgotten, for all intents and purposes, no longer exist. I woke in such a place. For days I screamed for help, but none came. A failed attempt to climb the walls left me with a broken ankle and no hope. From time to time, I would hear creatures snuffling at night, but even they wouldn’t approach the edge of my coffin. Daylight would come and the glass above amplified the sun’s rays to the point of roasting me. My mind wandered to time spent in the Polynesian Islands, the pua’a I enjoyed with such gluttony – no thought given to what the creature may have endured. Far from those days, I’m left to consume every bug and rodent found in my living crypt, to lick dry the weep from the concrete walls. Now I wait. Death will find me, it’s the only thing I’m sure of.
Fiction © Copyright Nina D’Arcangela
Image courtesy of Nina D’Arcangela 

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More from Nina D’Arcangela:

Mental Ward: EXPERIMENTS

A dank basement, shadow filled hallways, the deep echo of a metal latch being thrown while faint screams are heard… These are the things you might experience in a place where the unspeakable happens, where conscientious action and moral turpitude turn a blind eye in the interest of advancing one’s own personal pursuits in the most deranged and unjustifiable manner. The type of place where power corrupts, and depravity runs rampant among those imbued with it. A place where the unfortunate are abandoned to the devices of those who convince themselves their actions are in the best interest of science.

Mental Ward: Experiments is a collection of ten short stories that demonstrate the worst of humanity’s ambition in the interest of ‘civilized’ advancement. Step into a world where sanity is left behind, and horror is what the doctor ordered!

Available on Amazon!

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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_03_JulyLOH
What Gave Them the Right?

by Rie Sheridan Rose

I was a good girl. I listened to me mum and da. I did as I was told. I went to church every Sunday…even when I’d had to work till midnight the night before. I never stole a dime from the shop’s till…even when they’d dock me wages because they said I’d spilled something or broken a cup. I worked extra when the Mistress wanted to go and play with her lovers of an afternoon, or when the Master said the shop needed a good “spit and polish,” but it wasn’t the shop he wanted me to polish. I managed to distract him with a bit of slap and tickle instead…but I was still a good girl.
Everything went on. I brought home a bit for the family, and bought a sweet or a book for meself now and a time. Shouldn’t have gotten used to things. Shouldn’t have let me guard down. Should have said, “No,” when the Master give me the package to deliver. It was after closing, after all, and not part of what I was paid for…but he give me an extra shilling, and there was a new Dickens novel I had me heart set on.
So, I took his coin, and the box tied with string, and I went through the cobbled streets with the gaslights flickering… It was cold, I remember. I could still feel then.
The house were in the center of town. A mansion more like. Four stories of stone, and steel. The knocker was a gilded sprocket that tapped against a field of gears. I thought that was amusing…then.
When the door creaked open, I went inside. No one was behind it.
“Hullo?” I called, and the house echoed it back. “I brung—brought—a package from Mickel and Pierce. I-I’ll just leave it here on the table, then.”
I set down the package, and backed toward the door.
It slammed on its own, making me jump a foot. Turning on my heel, I ran to open it, but it was solid as a rock. I fumbled with the knob, looking for a key…
…and then I was here. Trussed like a Christmas turkey, with all these tubes flowing into darkness. There’s a clicking when I turn my head, and I can’t bend my neck to see my body, but I don’t feel a thing. Just cold…and I see what is flowing through those tubes. It wasn’t theirs to take. Whoever “they” are. All I have left are tears…and they are flowing too.
What gave them the right…?
Fiction © Copyright Rie Sheridan Rose
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Author Rie Sheridan Rose:

Skellyman

“I have always preferred the supernatural in tales of horror, the knot between life and death. Rie Sheridan Rose’s Skellyman is cool and creepy. Her first horror novel is a chilling read.” — Charlee Jacob – Stoker winner, Best novel, “Dread in the Beast”

Brenda Barnett is trying to cope with raising her four-year-old daughter all alone after an accident tore her family in half. As she and Daisy go for a much-needed treat, the little girl spots a Skellyman on the corner.

This pivotal encounter leads to a wave of mounting terror as Brenda’s life begins to come undone around her. Who is the Skellyman? Why does he keep appearing? Can the sympathetic policeman Brenda turns to stop the madness before it is too late?

And why does Daisy insist that her dead brother is trying to tell them something important?

Available on Amazon!

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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments