Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Elaine Pascale @DocLaney @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

04_IMG_FEB280 Stones Pave the Way to Atlantis
by Elaine Pascale

Alpha female, is there a problem?”
Una disentangled herself from the heap of bodies. The smell of the lab made her nauseous. Yet, for the past few months, the lab was all that she had known.
Every day, all day, their sexual activities were studied. They were paired, and sometimes grouped, randomly. The hope was for a reproductive miracle. 
They had selected the best specimens. Mars would support life just as earth had.
Alpha female, is there a problem?” the intercom repeated. Una did not answer. There was no problem that their genetic tests would reveal. She and the other women had been selected for their fertility markers, intelligence, mental stability, and physical attractiveness. She and the other women had been selected while their family and friends and everyone they had loved had been left behind to burn on their dying planet. 
The placard above the door read: “280 Stones Pave the Way to Atlantis.” This was to remind them that the average pregnancy was 280 days in total. This was to distract them from the other activities in the lab.
Alpha female, is there a problem?” 
“The old ways” of procreating were not working swiftly enough, so they resorted to “the old ways” of enhancing fertility.
Una knew she was not the one with a problem. Despite her recurring cycle, which heralded a lack of implantation, she was in no threat of becoming a “least liked.” 
The problem was she had seen the “least liked,” designated by a simulated social media vote, carried to the sacrificial bough. She had seen them hoisted by their ankles, throats slit, birthing so much blood that even the monstrous birds refused to fly over that part of the lab, and the monstrous birds loved human flesh.
So much blood, but some of the blood in the lab came from other practices.
“Alpha female, is there a problem?”
For Una, and the other women, guilt over the “least liked” was the main problem. The lab had resorted to “the old ways” of fertility rituals, but they had not considered that their specimens were enlisting “the old ways” of aborting them.

 

Fiction © Copyright Elaine Pascale
Image courtesy of  Pixabay.com

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More from Elaine Pascale:

The Blood Lights

They victimize all…

Jezzie Mitchell is in anguish; with her brother’s murder still on her mind, she’s noticed strange behavior among the girls in the residential treatment center where she works. Is there a connection between the contagion on Cape Cod and the deadly Bahamas vacation that changed her life?

Jezzie reaches out to former lover Lou Collins, a scholar who has chased proof of the lights for decades. Will he be able to solve the mystery of the lights in time?

Intensely competitive, reporter Bridgette Collins knows the lights are a way to secure fame in her career. And while it’ll put the final nail into the coffin of her ex-husband’s career, she vows to know the secrets of the lights. Even if it means unleashing a world-wide epidemic…

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Sonora Taylor @sonorawrites @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Bramble
by Sonora Taylor

Mimi loved her hair. It grew past her shoulders into long and flowing locks. Those locks, however, loved to tangle; and Mimi’s mother hated having to brush them out.
“You have so many rat’s nests in here, I expect a rodent to come crawling out any minute,” her mother said as she brushed her hair in increased frustration. But Mimi ignored her mother’s anger, instead focusing on the bramble of her hair as it grew outwards and upwards, floating and spilling in all directions over her shoulders.
One morning, Mimi’s mother had had enough. She tugged the brush from another rat’s nest and threw it on the bathroom floor. The thwack against the tiles rang in Mimi’s ears as her mother opened up a drawer.
“Enough!” her mother said. She grabbed the tangles in Mimi’s hair and cut them.
Mimi screamed as she saw her hair fall to the floor, a clump that resembled a wounded animal. “No!” she yelled as her mother continued to cut. “I like my hair!”
Her mother ignored her and kept cutting. She pinned Mimi down with palms that dug into her shoulders with increasing pain. Mimi twisted and turned like her beloved curls, which floated to the floor like falling tears. “No, no, NO!”
Mimi jerked so had that the scissors slipped. The blade scratched a newly-shorn spot on her head, and Mimi felt a cool trickle of blood seep through the searing warmth of pain that emanated across her head.
“Serves you right,” her mother spat as she slammed the scissors down on the sink. “Crying over all that ugly hair.”
Mimi grabbed a tissue and held it to her head. She ran out of the bathroom, avoiding the mirror. She didn’t want to see what she’d become. She ran into the backyard and fell to her knees between a copse of trees whose dead branches littered the ground. She began to cry. Her blood and tears fell on the branches.
Mimi heard a stirring beneath her. She looked down and saw tender leaves sprouting from the dead branches. Roots sprang forth and curled themselves around her legs and waist. She was about to run, when she felt the wound on her head grow cool. She touched the wound and felt soft leaves. Branches and twigs grew as well, until Mimi felt her hand pushed away by the growing height and width of the bramble.
Mimi’s mother came outside, her eyes down as she smoked a cigarette. “Come inside,” she said as she looked up. She dropped her cigarette when she saw Mimi.
Mimi felt the power of the trees within her, and smiled as the branches around her lashed towards her mother. “Serves you right,” she said as they ensnared her mother’s ankles. “Cutting off all of my beautiful hair.”
Fiction © Copyright Sonora Taylor
Image courtesy of  Pixabay.com

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More from Sonora Taylor:

74533110_1104998099694619_4901851685367840768_nLittle Paranoias: Stories

Is it a knock on the door, or a gust of wind? A trick of the light, or someone who’ll see what you’ve done?

“Little Paranoias: Stories” features twenty tales of the little things that drive our deepest fears. It tells the stories of terror and sorrow, lust at the end of the world and death as an unwanted second chance. It dives into the darkest corners of the minds of men, women, and children. It wanders into the forest and touches every corner of the capital. Everyone has something to fear — but after all, it’s those little paranoias that drive our day-to-day.

Available on Amazon!

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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!

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Annalina
by Lydia Prime

Time seems to go so much faster now; the world withers but I stay the same. If I focus on the end, maybe it won’t start again…
Shallow breaths leave tears streaming down my cheeks. I can’t help but wonder if it could have been different – would have been different – if only I’d just said no. My thoughts travel to places I’d rather not see; a memory breaks through and my pulse begins to slow.
The ground beneath my feet feels as if it’s falling away; I’m floating through a familiar void. I look above and see a faint glimmer of green, the higher my body goes, the brighter the light becomes. Strung up in the cosmos I watch the clocks roll back and forth while the skies change above me. Prickles on my fingers; my flesh gives way to bone. It doesn’t hurt anymore, just happens.
***
A long lonely path to the decaying castle, I looked up to the branches, small buds – the leaves were just starting to appear after such a vicious winter. It took just over an hour to walk from town to the abomination within the mountains.
Upon reaching the iron gate, I paused and took in my surroundings. It didn’t seem like any of the monstrosities were venturing about. No enormous winged beasts circling overhead, nor the six-legged mongrel. Those were the worst, with their ability to almost pass for a dog, had it not been for the extra limbs, and of course overwhelming maw filled to the brim with sharp black teeth. I breathed deeply and convinced myself that I was doing the right thing, no matter how hopeless I felt, and pushed the gateway open; the creaking of the rusted old metal hurt my ears. I shivered as goose bumps traveled the length of my arms and made my way to the wooden doors of the enormous structure.
Before I could knock, the door swung open. Through what little light there was, I could just barely make out the silhouette of someone standing back near the opposite wall. I cautiously stepped through the door way, my eyes locked on whomever was hiding in the shadows.
“Hello?” My voice shaky and questioning. No response followed and the figure remained still. “Are you, Annalina?” It took one step forward, I assumed that to be a yes. “Annalina, I’ve been sent by the people you and your beasts torment. I’ve watched as your nightmarish ghouls have plucked us off one by one. I stood helpless while my siblings drowned in a pool of their own blood. I –”
The figure let out a raucous laughter. She stepped closer to the light, closer to me. Now I could see all of her: pallid skin hung loosely from bone, fingernails curled in different directions, eyes of pure obsidian, stringy grey hair that came past her hips. “You’re either unbelievably brave or immeasurably stupid to dare coming here, to dare speaking to me like that.” Her voice rasped something awful, the hate in her tone was absolute.
“I prefer brave. I’m here to offer you a deal.” I blurted out; a bit quicker than I should have. My palms were sweating profusely and my knees were becoming jelly. I held her gaze and watched as a glint formed in those dark eyes.
“A deal, child? Are you sure you know what you’re getting into?” Annalina smirked, her yellow rotten teeth exposed.
Needing to resist the urge to run, I nodded. She moved closer, her odor wafting in my face. She stood no more than four feet away from me, “I will give you whatever you want, if you leave the town and its people be.” I dropped my head to my chest, her putrid scent causing nausea. “Anything at all, but the town must never be victim to your monsters or you ever again.”
“Anything? Anything at all?” She mused, “But how do you know if you have anything I’d want?”
My heart sank, I didn’t know. I had no plan beyond getting here, I didn’t think I’d even make it this far. Whatever it takes… “What do you want?” I asked. “The only way to know, is if you tell me.”
She scratched her scaly chin, turned away from me and began to pace as she thought. “You.” She uttered calmly, spinning to face me once again.
“M-m-me?” I stammered. “What could you want with me?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it? You said anything. I want you, all of you.”
“You’ll never bother the towns people again?”
“Never.” She held up her hand as if swearing on some invisible tome.
“So be it.” I replied accepting her request.
Annalina’s cackle echoed through the empty room and the ground began to crumble around us. She raised her grotesque hands to the heavens and chanted in a language I’d never heard. Green sparks flicked around us, her skin smoothing while mine shriveled. We floated above the clouds for what seemed like an eternity. When it was over, I collapsed and looked up at her. She’d gone from a disgusting old crone to an indescribably beautiful young woman.
“Your youth, your life, your soul. These will keep me satisfied for a time. As you heal, my youth and beauty will fade. Then, it will be time to feed off you some more. Your precious town will be safe as long as you live.”
Tears welled up and stung behind my eyes. My breaths shallow, my skin like paper.
Fiction © Copyright Lydia Prime
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Lydia Prime:

UHBWUnder Her Black Wings:
2020 Women of Horror Anthology

– A glamorous actress whose very flesh is reanimated by a beloved Hollywood icon
– A Boy Scout Troup encounters a frightening mythological creature in an American forest
– A lonely woman finds a home among a group of lost-and-found souls, all cared for by a tentacled sea-creature called Mother
– A Faceless Woman attacks like a virus and takes on the identities of her victims
– A post-apocalyptic battle for survival rages between human and insect
– A Shadow Woman leads the spirits of the murdered to take revenge in the desert

These are just some of the stories nineteen women came up with when tasked with creating their own Women Monsters. Step inside and experience tales of bloodsucking entities in the jungles of Southeast Asia, Cuban river goddesses, an Aztec bruja, werewolves, mermaids, soul-stealers, obsessive lovers, furious spurned wives, bloody murder in Gothic manors and on Southern plantations… and so much more…

With Foreword by Brandon Scott (Author of Vodou and Sleight, Devil Dog Press)

 Available on Amazon!  

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The Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Marge Simon @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Ivan and the Goddess
by Marge Simon

After dinner, Ivan is out for a smoke, as he’s wont to do if weather permits. The oaks are limed in shadows, the heavens ablaze with points of light. This night seems different, full of portent.  He strikes a match to his pipe, wondering if he might discover some new constellation of his own invention.  But the flame goes out as a woman materializes, the sexiest young woman he’s ever seen.  She appears to float his way, holding an object lit with an otherworldly glow. Ivan stares with pipe unlit, wondering where she comes from, and why here, to his back yard.
“I come to share,” she says, revealing a golden hour glass, its top half almost empty.  Trembling, Ivan touches it. “I know who you are, gorgeous. You’re an angel, come to tell me that my time here is at an end.” His eyes narrow, “Is this not so?”
“Wrong, Ivan! I’m no angel, I’m the Goddess of Time. As to why I’m here—oh!”
Ivan instantly snatches the glass out of her hand, turning it back over as he does. “Say no more, you beautiful broad. I get to live as long as I want, now. With another lifetime ahead, I can prepare myself to be president of our nation. I can have all the sexy women I wish, starting with you.”
The goddess begins laughing. “Do you actually believe I’d bring you my sacred Glass of Hours? I have a bet with the God of Fools that you’d do something like this. He thought you’d beg me for a kiss, maybe ask me to sleep with you. Hah!”
“I was just about to propose both of those things,” says Ivan. “But you are saying this is a fake?”
“It surely is, but you’re smarter than I’d thought, Ivan. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now.”
Ivan stares speechless as the lovely goddess unhinges her jaw. “It gets boring, being a Goddess.  Sometimes I need a change of pace. I’m moonlighting as a vampire this evening, that’s what I wanted to share, little man.”
Fiction © Copyright Marge Simon
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Marge Simon:

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The Demeter Diaries
by Marge Simon and‎ Bryan D. Dietrich

‘The Demeter Diaries’ is a record of love and longing and the inevitable horror that arises between the minds of Mina Harker and Vlad Dracula as they court one another in waking dreams. The dialogue, written in both poetry and prose, imagines a psychic connection that develops between the two even before Dracula arrives in England. As Dracula makes his way from Transylvania to Whitby on the doomed ship Demeter, the two would-be lovers transmit their thoughts across the waves and lands that separate them, alternately wooing and terrifying one another with the idea of love eternal and all the dark delicacies necessary to ensure it. Front cover art by Wendy Saber Core, interior illustrations by Luke Spooner.

Available on Amazon!

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Please don’t forget to visit the other WiHM 11 projects taking place!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Sheri White @sheriw1965 @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

04_img_jan_rsTruth or Dare
by Sheri White
The four girls hung out in Sam’s basement, lounging on big pillows, dressed in jammies pants and tank tops. Potato chip crumbs littered the carpet and a stack of soda cans teetered precariously on the coffee table. An old black and white horror movie played on TV, the sound turned down.
“All right, Hannah, your turn. Truth or dare?” Missy asked.
“Truth.”
“Come on, you guys!” Sam said. “Nobody is taking a dare.” She passed the joint to Courtney.
“It’s because we’re too stoned to do anything else,” Hannah said, then laughed. “Okay, what’s the question?”
“Who are you hoping asks you to the prom?” Missy asked.
“No, I’m not answering that! Give me another question.”
“You have to answer it, Hannah!” Sam said.
“This must be good if she doesn’t want to answer it, Sam.”
“I agree, Courtney. Spill it, Hannah.”
Hannah covered her face with her hands. “Jordan.”
“WHO?” all the girls yelled.
Hannah took her hands down. “Jordan!” she yelled back, her face beet red.
They laughed together, then Missy said, “Let’s play something else. This isn’t fun anymore.”
“Stiff as a Board?” Courtney suggested.
Missy shook her head. “That is so middle school. Come on, it’s Sam’s 16th birthday! We have to do something really cool and special.”
“Hey, I know!” Sam said. “Let’s go to the upside-down church. It’s only 20 minutes away. Hannah can drive us, right?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Wait,” said Courtney. “An upside-down church? How does it balance on the pointy steeple?”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Courtney—open your physics book sometime. An upside-down church is one that has secret Satanic rituals in the basement.”
Courtney shuddered. “No, thanks. Too scary for me.”
“It’s not real, Courtney. Just an urban legend,” Sam replied. “We can go inside, grab something to bring back with us, and then we are the cool girls in school who dared to go into the upside-down church. This will be a dare in our Truth or Dare game.”
“I guess. I’m still scared, though.” Courtney shrugged and gave a little smile.
“What about your mom, Sam? Isn’t she home?” Hannah asked. “If we sneak out and get caught, my parents will take my license away for a few weeks.”
“Please. She’s been in her room all day with another new boyfriend and a bottle of vodka. She’s passed out by now.”
The other girls sat in awkward silence for a few minutes. Sam’s home life was something they didn’t often talk about.
“It’s fine, you guys. Let’s go.” Sam led the way to the front door, and they crammed into Hannah’s Mini-Cooper.
***
“Okay, Hannah—turn into that driveway. We’ll park and walk the rest of the way. It’s just a little ways up the road.”
“We’re in the middle of nowhere! I don’t like this,” said Courtney.
As Hannah drove up the driveway and through open iron gates, Courtney gasped.
“Why are we parking in a cemetery? Let’s park at the church!”
“We’re about to break into a church,” Sam said. “We don’t need cops seeing a car in their parking lot if they drive by. They don’t check the cemetery.”
“Sounds like you’ve done this before, Sam. Have you?” Missy asked.
“I’ve only hung out here in the cemetery and gotten high. It’s peaceful. I’ve never been to the church, though.” She turned and looked at Courtney in the back seat. “It will be fine, Courtney. We’ll only stay long enough to grab a souvenir.”
Courtney sighed. “Okay, I guess.”
***
They walked through the cemetery, still wearing their jammie pants and tank tops. Although it was a warm night, Courtney rubbed her arms as if she were freezing. She couldn’t keep her head still; she looked all around the cemetery like she was expecting ghosts or zombie to chase them.
They walked on the road after leaving the cemetery. Cornfields lined both sides of the road, cornstalks towering over them. The girls chatted as they made their way to the church. Suddenly, Courtney stopped.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered.
“Hear what?” Missy asked. They stood silent. “There is nothing out there to hear, Courtney. You’re just spooking yourself.”
“I heard whispers in the cornfield. Like chanting or something. They sounded creepy!”
“Courtney, we all love ya, but you are getting on our nerves,” Hannah said. “Quit being such a scaredy-cat and try to have fun, okay?”
“Fine. But don’t blame me when something pulls you in there and you’re never seen again.”
Hannah and Sam looked at each other and rolled their eyes. “I saw that,” said Courtney from behind them.
***
Missy pulled on the gilded handle leading into the church. The tall oak door opened with a metallic screech.
The girls giggled nervously. “That was so loud,” Hannah whispered.
They stood in the foyer, looking at the main church area through glass doors. Candles flickered in sconces on the walls, giving just enough light to see inside. Rows of wooden pews led to a huge organ, watched over by Jesus on the cross.
“I bet that organ sounds beautiful,” said Chelsea. “I’d love to try it out.” Chelsea had played piano since she was a little girl and hoped to go to Juilliard one day.
Sam pointed at a set of stairs heading to the basement on the other side of the foyer. “Come on, let’s go.”
They tiptoed down the stairs, as silent as they could be.
“This is ridiculous. Why are we trying to be quiet if there isn’t anybody here?” asked Courtney. “Or is there? Sam, you said nobody would be here!”
“There shouldn’t be, Courtney. But, you know, maybe a priest comes in during the night sometimes to pray or something? Just calm down, nothing is going to happen.”
They got to the bottom of the stairs and looked around.
“I guess that’s where we go?” asked Missy, looking at the double doors at the end of the hallway.
“Well, there are no other doors down here, right?” Hannah walked over and looked in one of the rectangular windows, cupping her hands around her eyes. “It’s too dark to see anything.”
“We came here for a souvenir,” said Sam. “No use standing around. Let’s go in.”
They opened the double doors and walked into the room. There was no light at all, no windows to let the moon shine in.
“Let’s see if we can find a light switch,” said Hannah.
They felt along the walls, but there were no switches, just smooth walls. “Someone use the flashlight on their phone,” suggested Missy.
“Hang on.” Sam held hers up and swept it around the room. The faint light only cast shadows.
A piercing scream filled the room, making the girls jump.
“That was Courtney! Courtney, are you all right?” Hannah asked.
“I’m fine, Hannah.”
“Where are you? You sound like you’re across the room,” said Missy.
“What happened? Why did you scream? And why can’t we find a light switch?”
“So many questions, Sam! But I can help you with one of them.”
The room lit up with an eerie red glow. Courtney stood before them wearing a hooded black robe. Strangers in red hooded robes flanked her on either side, hands clasped to their chests. All of them, including Courtney, had their heads bowed, obscuring their faces. Then Courtney looked up at her friends, giving them a smile that chilled their spines.
“What the hell, Courtney? Is this a joke? A prank for my birthday?” asked Sam.
“Had you fooled, didn’t I? Acting so scared. The rumors about this being an “upside-down” church are true, obviously. And honestly, I acted scared so you would change your mind about bringing us here because I knew there was a meeting tonight. But you all kept making fun of me, so here we are.
And you know we can’t let you leave, right?”
“I don’t understand. What is happening, Courtney? This is insane!” Missy’s voice hitched with a small sob.
“How does it feel to be the one scared, Missy?” Courtney taunted. “Grab them.”
“What? Wait—” Sam felt strong hands grab her upper arms from behind. “Courtney, stop this!”
A cloth was shoved under her nose, and everything went black.
***
Terrified screams startled Sam semi-awake. She tried to focus, but everything was blurry. She sat up, realizing she was on top of a marble slab, dressed in a white gown.
“Hannah? Missy?” She looked around, and saw them on slabs also wearing white gowns, but theirs were covered in blood. Their throats had been slit almost to decapitation. Sam screamed, drawing Courtney’s attention. The red-robed figures were no longer with her; the two of them were alone with their dead friends.
“Hey, sleepyhead! Glad you’re up—we saved the birthday girl for last.” Courtney held a knife at her side, the blade dripping with her friends’ blood.
Sam sat up, and held onto the edge of the slap, her legs dangling. She closed her eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening.
“Why, Courtney? We’re friends. Hannah and Missy were your friends too.”
“There’s no such thing as friends, Sam. But I did try to keep you from coming here. So really, this is all your fault.” Courtney laughed at Sam’s incredulous expression. “Don’t worry. It only hurts for a few seconds.” She approached Sam and lifted the knife.
Sam lifted her leg and kicked Courtney in the stomach. Courtney dropped the knife and bent over, clutching her stomach. “Oh, you bitch!”
Sam jumped down and grabbed the knife. “Fuck you. I only invited you to my slumber party because I felt sorry for you!” She rammed the blade into Courtney’s back, shuddering and screaming at the chunk sound it made. She pulled it out and ran.
“Go get her before she gets out of the church!” Courtney screamed, blood bubbling out of her mouth. The red-robed strangers seemed to re-appear out of nowhere and ran after Sam.
***
Sam stopped beside a pew to catch her breath. She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and knew she wouldn’t make it outside before they caught her. “No, please,” she whispered. Then she noticed a door by the altar. She ran for it, her bare feet slapping on the tile floor. She pushed the horizontal metal bar and ran out into the cool air.
Right into Courtney.
She grinned at Sam, her teeth red with blood that dripped down her chin. “Here, I’ll take that.” She gently removed the knife from Sam’s clenched hand.
Sam’s arms were once again grabbed from behind, but she didn’t struggle. Her body went limp and she bent her head. Then she looked up with pleading eyes.
“Please, Courtney,” she whispered.
“Sorry, Sam.” She gestured to the figure holding Sam to go back into the church. She walked alongside them.
“I have to say, though—this has been one hell of a Truth or Dare game.”
Fiction © Copyright Sheri White
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Author Sheri White:

When the Clock Strikes 13

Tick – tock
Tick – tock
Tick – tock
Your time is running out. When the clock strikes 13, all manners of hell will break loose.
When the Clock Strikes 13 is a collection of thirteen short horror stories by some of the best horror and dark fiction authors writing today. Inside, you will find stories to frighten, shock and gnaw at your inner fears, and take you places that belong only in the dark recesses of your mind. There are monsters on these pages; some are human, some are not.

Available on Amazon!

 

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

04_img_jan_rsSoul Collector
by Asena Lourenco

She stood there, unblinking.
As her eyes pierced my soul,
And in that moment, quickly sinking,
Was my body into stone,
And then the silver metal appeared,
Hiding behind her skin,
The one that was to be feared,
A blade with past of sin,
Strands of hair fell in front,
Of her obsidian eyes,
But the blade, all but blunt,
Reflected the dark inside,
From the room there came,
Silent but screeching calls,
Different but still the same,
Begging to leave those walls.
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 Kim Richards @Kim_Richards @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

01_img_jan_rsJagged
by Kim Richards

It was a stately place once—back when Virginia was a girl. Now the house’s exterior was just as worn and jagged as her body. The wrought iron bars, with their decorative curling pieces, kept the Unwanted Ones out. Those prevented them from ripping her flesh from her bones as they did the neighbors years back. Virginia still heard their screams when she closed her eyes. Damn memories! The bars also trapped her inside.
The bars never stopped Unwanted Ones from throwing rocks through the window glass. Shards reflected the dying world outside as they clung to the frame edges. Virginia didn’t come close enough to remove them. She couldn’t replace the glass anyway because she had none. Besides, when she tried to sweep up the broken pieces on the floor, Unwanted Ones threw themselves against the wrought iron as they lunged forward, reaching out towards her. She barely escaped the one with long arms. Now she kept the interior doors closed against the weather and herself out of sight.
On rare occasions, she came into the dining room to watch a sunset. Today was one of those times. She kept to the far wall and stepped lightly on bare feet. She never figured out if the Unwanted Ones could smell her but knew for certain they heard her moving. All it took was a slight creak of an aged floorboard to bring them snarling to the window.
Streaks of yellows and orange sunlight reflected across wispy clouds towards the horizon. Sunsets were her only source of beauty. She promised herself, she would watch one when her time came to leave her aged body with its aches and frailty. Now was that time.
Virginia decided it a week ago. She would choose the time and the way. She came every evening since to see if the sky was cloudy. She wanted the perfect sunset like this one. The moment she squeezed through the inner doorway and saw its brilliant splendor, she knew.
She tiptoed over to an old chair and gingerly sat on its rotted cushion. Then she took two little pink pills she saved just for this from her blouse pocket. She tossed them into her mouth and swallowed them dry. If all worked out as planned they would send her on her way just as the last color faded.
Suddenly the chair gave way from beneath her with a loud crack. She landed hard on the floor with another crack—this one from her hip. Within seconds one of the Unwanted Ones stood at the window growling.
“No, no, no,” Virginia whispered. “Get out of my view. I do not want you to be the last thing I see.”
Wincing from sharp pain, she rolled over and set her weight on the other hip. She slowly crawled towards the window.
The thing’s pale lips parted. It gnashed its jagged teeth at her. The long armed one strained to reach her to no avail.
Drawing near, Virginia removed her blouse and wrapped it tightly around one hand. She grasped a large glass shard from the floor and struggled to her knees. With her free hand, she took hold of one of the window frames and pulled her self to her feet. Then with her glass she slashed at the monster’s hands.
It howled but kept coming.
She wobbled on her unsteady body. Long Arms grabbed her by the hair. It yanked her towards the bars. She stumbled and nearly dropped her glass weapon. The two met face to face with only iron in between. Virginia raised her shard in both hands, not caring that one of them bled. With all her might, she brought the ‘blade’ down on his head.
He yelped and let go of her. He fell to one side. Virginia heard a thump as he hit the ground and fell silent.
Her hip gave way and she fell to the floor, among broken glass. She grew drowsy and knew her time approached. Then she looked up and smiled. There, upon the remaining glass pieces in the window frame, was the reflection of the gorgeous sunset. When the sun dipped it’s fiery head down beyond the horizon, it took her soul with it.

 

Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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