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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Layla
by Sheikha A. 

to giving Venus a mercy of jasmines
.
‘The jasmines bloomed (a mercy) and withered’ 
– Rizwan Saleem
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The scripture on her hand is blood-ink –
emboss-pattern of rivulet-veins. Dragon-
.
star hovering like a paper mountain;
the peak of a hummingbird’s perch
.
on her shield of solitude. Sea horses
have flown to fairies of the winds –
.
all beings with wings migrating to land;
she awaits her messengers, their stems
.
sleek. Her body is a ground of youth,
fertile like salt in the sea – haloclines
.
of progeny – frozen in age. She grows
nettles on fungal barks; hangs thorns
.
like slender ivy on curves of a dense night.
She has killed many moons to get this far;
.
their debris-glimmer attracting creatures
from the other world she wants to reach.
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There was one: hide taut ripples,
his guile debilitated to her allure;
.
she tied a noose of spells around his neck,
called them heal-stones and set him free.
.
Dragon-star has risen, pointing light
to his land. It hasn’t taken long – turn
.
of one century – for him to find his way;
her stones gleaming from under his skin –
.
spell lodged. He will be carrier of light
and wings; hide taut ripples of virility.
.
He will be moon to her endless night –
what she may kill – what she won’t do –
.
the hummingbird is perched. Sleek
stems emanate soporific scents;
.
she is tired of watering illusions –
her trees growing thick and heavy.
.
Perhaps, this moon will be eternal.
Fairies watch from behind her mercy.
.
.
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 Nina D’Arcangela @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

When the Silver Fell
by Nina D’Arcangela

As I sit on the bank shivering under a woolen blanket, I can still hear the metal screech of the bridge as it tore loose. I hear car horns blaring, people screaming, see holiday gifts tumbling on the rough current… Many say a large winged creature warned of it. My harbinger, miniature in scale, spoke of the collapse, the frigid water, the slab of asphalt angling to the silt below. What he didn’t tell me was that you would ruin me, you’d take everything, and in that taking, you’d try to take me too. I wish you had.

Forty-six people died that evening, the only two never to surface again brought me into this world, and you saw fit to never allow them the dignity they deserved.

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Waiting for You
by Lynn Ruzzo

I waited so long, and still he didn’t show. He said he’d be there, just like always. Same time, same place. We’d never been apart very long. But those times lengthened as years went by. Less often, he’d come. I wondered if he were busy, or just unable to meet despite his want. Or maybe he no longer desired these short visits? Would he abandon me? Would I, him? I swallowed the urge to walk and never return. I had to. For him. For me. But eventually, I had to go. The world beyond called and I couldn’t resist. Before I faded back to the void, I saw his eyes on me, and I smiled before I vanished.

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Slip
by Nina D’Arcangela

The texture of the brass dials a thing so fetching, feel them spin, with a tick and a click, tightening ever so slightly as the prize is nearing.

Nimble fingers twist knobs, first left, then right, and back yet again. Feeling for the slightest shift, as slowly they spin.

A tick, a click, the slip. The first dial is set. How these tired tips work at gaining entry, their art lost to time, man’s arrogance a false sentry.

These fingers you see, they are for hire, they spin, they click only for the most discriminate buyer. What lies beyond the beauty of this contraption of brass, these fingers care not – their job only to spin, to click, to find the slip.

Ah, the slipping of the final pin into place, pride to be had for a task well done. These fingers find no pride being named thief, only in the triumph of yet another breach.

Never touching the treasures concealed inside, the gift is in the spinning, the clicking and the glorious sound of the decisive slipping as the lock disengages, and the tomb readies to release.

The thrill done, the game complete, the mastery of infiltrating the impenetrable is what these tired digits did seek. Their desirous splendor being the one called to task, no other hand as capable on the brass.

These fingers, they are old, and worn with time, slowly they reach out and gentle the slide.

A slight pop, the pressure released, the door opens a mere chink, allowing for those who would have the briefest of peeks.

The thrill these old fingers have felt now past, gone on this final releasing of brass. This buyer untrue with intentions corrupt, these fingers have felt for the final time the tick, the click, the magnificent slip!

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Femme Fatale 
by Asena Lourenco 

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Sage silk cascaded down her body 

The evening light highlighting her golden skin.

The harmonious sound of the water at her feet

Complimented the melody of the tune she began to sing,

Her angelic voice drew beauty to the mystical pond,

The moss on the branches swaying in rhythm,

The gentle hum of the dragonflies set a calming tone,

As I dreamt of the person that lay within,

But the trance-like reverie that I was in

Slowly started to fade,

As the dulcet music began to dim,

I saw the nature of her true face.

.

Fiction © Copyright Asena Lourenco
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.

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More about Asena Lourenco:

AsenaAsena Lourenco is 14 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 Elizabeth H. Smith @bethsmithwrites @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Visitors
by Elizabeth H. Smith

The glow of night shined on this visiting creature. It gazed at me from beyond the window. I looked upon its form, how it held such mystery, grace, and beauty. I smiled as it blinked its eyes. It then gazed deeply at me, so hard, so harsh, I could not look away. A subtle vibration hummed beneath my feet. It expanded, then surrounded me in a suffocating mass of soundless noise. I wanted to run, but my body was frozen in place.


Hands grasped my arms and legs from behind, and gently they carried me outside where a light shined from the sky. I thought at that moment that Heaven had opened its gates and let me see its beauty. Perhaps I died in my sleep and my visitor had been there to guide me. My body rose from the ground, carried up by invisible hands, as if the beaming light itself could hold me.


But beyond that shining joy, darkness waited. The creatures who had taken me from my room circled around me as I lay supine suspended in the air. My heart quickened. Fear replaced hope as they inserted a large needle into the back of my neck. I gasped from the pressure, but there was no pain—only numbness. I felt something leave my body, some piece of me. Then more. The tall beings stared blankly as I tried to scream but didn’t make a sound.

My thoughts of Heaven turned to Hell. Had I been so wrong in life to deserve eternal torment? Did I not earn the company of angels?


I watched as my body was painlessly taken apart, piece by piece. Strange tools took little by little until there wasn’t anything left except ruined meat and fragmented bone. Madness took hold long before the end. When there wasn’t anything left to take, just a head and spine with some sinew hanging on, I was taken to a place filled with those who came before me. At least our silently screaming souls would be together.

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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 Kim Richards @Kim_Richards @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Fall
by Kim Richards 

Zoya sat on her park bench beneath a sky gray with clouds. Oak and aspen leaves of the autumn colors of gold, red, and brown littered the ground around its twisted steel legs and the path nearby. Last night’s rain drenched everything and still came down like spittle. She reached out her left foot to nudge the closest leaf with the toe of her ragged tennis shoe but couldn’t reach it with her short legs.

A man and woman wearing dark clothing ran past. Each step squished the wet leaves beneath their boots with a soggy sound. Their breaths sent puffs of steam out into the air.

They look cold. Zoya rubbed her bare arms with her hands. She wasn’t. She hadn’t known the discomfort of cold, hot, or anything since…since the fall.

White light so bright it sent waves of pain from her head throughout the rest of her body. She flinched and squeezed her eyelids closed tight, unwilling to visit the memory. She had no choice. It intensified. She cried out from the pain.

Her memory took her back to when she sat on a tree branch high above the bench. She swung her legs in little circles and turned her face to the warm sun.

Mama would be mad if she knew her daughter came outside but Zoya didn’t care. Tired of hiding in their raggedy house, she wanted to run and sing and chase the squirrels. She went down to the basement and snuck out the small window when the adults went in search of firewood.

Now, perched up in the tree, she listened to the birds chirping and a squirrel chattering at her for making it run. Off in the distance a dog barked. It sounded like Doni’s hound. Zoya hadn’t seen her friend or the dog in months.

A sharp crack split the air, sending the birds fleeing skyward and the squirrel down the tree trunk. Hot pain hit Zoya in the chest. The impact from the bullet sent her tumbling backward. She hit the ground hard. All of her joints ached but her chest screamed as it leaked blood.

A man carrying a rifle moved to stand over her. Black hate filled his eyes. He said something to her but she didn’t understand. Her world grew dark.

Mama, I fell. Please don’t be mad.

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Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Sue Renol @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

First Priority
by Sue Renol

I checked that box every day without fail. I had to. It was the only way to make sure. When it came, I’d know. And I wanted to know as soon as possible. Why waste a day when life is so short? I’d no idea when it would arrive, just that it would. That day would brighten my world beyond my expectations. My fantasies had to remain fiction until the moment I opened up that parcel. The universe would open up to me as I opened the box. I only hoped it’d be sooner than later.


The day finally came, and with it, great excitement. I held the package in my hands and felt its every corner. The waxy paper and twine smelled of an old bookstore. My legs trembled as I pulled the string and opened the outer wrapping. Within lay the box I waited so long for. I pulled off the lid and gazed upon its contents. The gold ring was still there, as requested. I never cared enough to wonder what they did with the rest of him, but he promised me his hand in marriage, and now I’d have it forever.

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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 Ela Lourenco @ElaLourenco @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Ghosts of the Ancestors  
by Ela Lourenco 

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Spirits of my ancestors

Heed my call

I sit here broken

Heart shredded, alone

Faerie our motherland

Once wash with laughter and joy

Home of never-ending music

And glittering wings

Is no more

The shadows came

Vile creatures from below

Leeching all the colour and life

From our timeless race

I beseech you ancestors

Heed my call

I too am dying

But before I succumb

Lend me your powers

For my revenge…

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Fiction © Copyright Ela Lourenco
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
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More from Ela Lourenco:

awakeningDragon Born: Book Three
Awakening

The Royal tournament, the Karnac, is fully underway. But there is deception and betrayal at every turn. Unseen dark forces are at play, both within the school grounds and out with. Even the Gods are unable to help when a new threat looms over them all.The very existence of Azmantium depends on Lara fully becoming the Child of Fire and casting aside the Shadows lurking in every corner of her beloved planet.Can she overcome the challenges that await? Will the Shadows cover the world in darkness? Only Lara and her friends can change the fate of Azmantium.

Available on Amazon!

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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!

Peace
by Nadia Corin

Strange that this bird of night should glow with such vibrancy. I stared at it for some time, and it
only stared back. My gaze did not deter it or make it take flight. It seemed sad as it looked upon
me, as it if regret filled its mind. It had a gentleness to the way it seemed to speak without
words. I felt its warmth and its empathy in my heart.
I nodded to the peaceful owl and continued my nightly walk. Another bright light caught my
gaze, but it was too late. Rubber skidded against the pavement with a screech. I wasn’t sure
what happened at first, but as I lay on the road looking up at that watchful owl, it blinked its
eyes and flew away.

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