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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Fly Eye 
by Elaine Pascale 

.“I need…,” Mona pulled the ancient parchment closer and squinted, “the eye of a fly.”

“Just the eye?” Her sister asked.

“That’s what it says.”

Morgyn snatched the parchment from her sister’s hands. “You are blind as a bat. Let me see.” She followed the antiquated writing with one arthritic finger. “It does say that.”

The sisters routinely competed, and through the course of their lives, Mona had lost most of the contests.

Morgyn smiled. “With this eye, my magic will match yours.”

Mona was not sure how she felt about that; witchcraft was the one area where she excelled.

When their familiar brought them a fly, their hopes sank.

“It is so small.” Mona frowned.

“For you, but my eyes are really good.”

Mona waited but Morgyn did not make any attempt to secure the eye.

“Go ahead.”

“It needs to be bigger.”

Mona pointed at the eye. “Explodere oculus.”

“That’s not right,” Morgyn criticized, yet the eye grew larger. Mona used her ritual knife to lift the eye.

“You are going to puncture it. You never do anything right.”

Mona ignored her sister and gently carried the eye to the cauldron.

“Don’t make a splash when you drop it in, we can’t lose any potion,” Morgyn instructed.

Mona, tired of nearly a century of her sister’s antagonism had an idea. “If it’s bigger, I bet it will be even more powerful.”

“Don’t be stupid, it’s big enough.”

Mona ignored her and repeated the chant; the eye grew so big that it no longer fit on her knife.

“Idiot!” Morgyn spat. “Now you have to pick it up with your hands and it’s dirty from the floor.”

Mona smiled and repeated the chant. Now the eye was as big as the table it had been sitting upon.

“Numbskull!  You mess everything up! If it weren’t for me, you would be stumbling around blind. If it weren’t for me—”

“If it weren’t for me and my magic, you would simply be someone with good eyesight, and now you won’t even be that.” Mona said the chant several more times until the eye became nearly as big as the room they were in.

Morgyn could see well enough to see the large eye rolling on top of her, trapping her until everything went black. 

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Fiction © Copyright Elaine Pascale
Image courtesy of Pixaby.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 Kathleen McCluskey @KathleenMcClus4 @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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The Boy 
by Kathleen McCluskey 

Samuel sat upon the work bench watching as Joshua labored with the mechanisms. Joshua was becoming more and more frantic; he knew that the ceremony was tonight. The elders were depending on him to complete the task. This was to be his greatest success yet he was dumbfounded why this project wasn’t finished already. He looked over at Samuel and shrugged his shoulders. Samuel’s dead eyes looked back at him.

Joshua worked in a frenzy as he adjusted the gears and the delicate components. This had to be an exact placement; the temple observance was tonight. Samuel only watched as the watchmaker began to become more and more disheartened as he worked. Joshua sighed loudly as his frustration was beginning to take over. He looked over at Samuel and wished he could assist him. Red faced and sweating he began again; this time he had the correct timing and the device began to whir and pulse. Joshua stepped back and watched the shining silver gears rotate faster and faster. He had done it! Joshua took Samuel in his arms and spun around.

The temple congregation stood on the sacred land that had been home to the temple for eons. They awaited Joshua and Samuel. They arrived and the entire sanctuary fell silent. Joshua approached the minister at the altar. He bowed his head as a show of respect. The clergy of the parish were extremely powerful and they loved their traditions. He placed Samuel upon the altar as he bent at the waist. Samuel’s lifeless eyes looked at Joshua as he sat on the front bench.

The minister began. He took the apparatus that Joshua had made and raised it into the air. He placed it beside Samuel. He lifted the boy, Samuel’s ceremonial, lavender robe billowed out around him in the soft autumn breeze. The congregation began to softly chant as he placed Joshua’s geared beacon into the boy. The all-powerful cleric began to chant along with the audience. A large gust of wind blasted the altar and the priest as he placed Samuel back onto the altar. He placed his hands onto the boy’s chest. A soft green glow began to surround Samuel. The cleric’s eyes rolled over white as he collapsed. Samuel lifted his head and looked at Joshua; his button eyes, yarn hair and burlap husk were foreign with the movement. Joshua knew that the damned soul of their savior had been released from hell. It now resided in his creation.

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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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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Kendra Hale @DevourAllWords @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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In The End  
by Kendra Hale 

The silence is probably the worst part of this half-life afterlife. I wish I referred to the afterlife that is waiting for one after death and passing. The one promised where things like shame, fear, and regret dissipate. Like the sheer fact of feeling them for our brief existence became a joke. Warmth and happiness, worries cast aside as one is enfolded by the Gods and Goddesses to which they prayed and devoted themselves to.

No, in this fallout, this afterlife, those negative feelings are all I am left with. A vast, expansive void of silence filled only by my sounds and my thoughts. At times I wondered at the passing belief that this was Hell or a Purgatory. But if this were Hell, it was one made fully of man’s creation, not of a higher being.

The silence.

For decades it was debated on when and what would cause the Doomsday Clock to reach zero. From my limited knowledge, I’m quite sure eyes were watching all the more closely after the 1986 Chernobyl incident and then again after the 2011 Fukushima Daiichi incident in 2011. The world watched but pride cometh before the fall and man messed with sciences it still did not fully have control over. And isn’t that what we all crave above all? Control.

It was just a matter of time before an emotional being made the final emotional outburst. The decision that changed the face of humanity forever.

I have long wondered why I am still here, and what it was that kept me living. I watched as friends and family, acquaintances and pets were wiped from this world. Some taken quickly and hopefully only feeling but a moment of pain. While others suffered in their last weeks, their lungs drowned them as their flesh deteriorated, burning as it sloughed off their muscle and bone. Their drowned gasps haunt me in brief moments of sleep. Their skeletal faces with sunken cheeks and matching eyes follow me as I walk the ruins of this Earth.

Shadows and echoes surround me. Ripples in time as I can place familiar places but there are no faces to be found. Only death masks. Meat.

That silence. The absence of it all. No birds chirping, no music, no insects, no idle chatter, no laughter, or even anger. Just silence. My ears have gotten to the point they cannot even tolerate my own voice without bleeding so I have gone mute. My skin has grown taut and grayish yellow in pallor. Maybe that means I will die soon, I pray for that. For the end to this visage, of being the final witness to the downfall of a foolish species.

An end to this numbness. This silence.

I settle in, night is falling. My meal is ready now. He had looked young, good muscle tone at least. I thank him for the meal in my head, praying he had no radiation in him, but this ache in my stomach doesn’t have the ability to feel any apprehension.

I settle into the silence. The unending silence.

 

Fiction © Copyright Kendra Hale
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Kendra Hale:

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Just Emotions:
A Gothic Bite Magazine Anthology

A collection of poetry.

Just Emotions‘ is exactly as it states, a group of writers who had feelings they wanted to express in poem form. Inside, there are a range of emotions to explore. Each writer has given a bit of themselves to you, each in their own way.

We hope that you enjoy these writings and that among the poems you may find some thing you can identify with or relate to. Thank you for giving us this chance to open the catacombs and share with you.

Available on Amazon!  

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Angela Yuriko Smith @AngelaYSmith @darc_nina #LoH

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Masterpieces
by Angela Yuriko Smith

Writer, this is yours:
An endless white space, waiting
for your masterpiece.

we heard your excuses:
workspace too dark, too cluttered
too many distractions, not enough time…
you muttered, we fluttered
and brought you the finest in excuse erasure—
inspiration by razor. now you’ll get to work.
you have ink in your veins, ideas trapped in your brains
if you could “just get them out” we heard
every word. we aim to please despite your pleas.
we’ll hold your feet to the fire—a molten magnum opus!
you said you’d give anything, this we remember
your left hand, your right eye, the rest of your liver
you give, we deliver. you create, we dismember.
pour out your creative juices, bleed for your art
we heard what you promised
and you promised
your heart.

We just want to watch
and inspire your creation
of masterpieces.

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More from Angela Yuriko Smith:

Angela Yuriko Smith is a third-generation Shimanchu-American and an award-winning poet, author, and publisher with 20+ years of experience as a professional writer in nonfiction. Publisher of Space & Time magazine (est. 1966), a two-time Bram Stoker Awards® Winner (one for a Siren’s Call ezine essay), and HWA Mentor of the Year for 2020, connect with her at

angelaysmith.com

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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!

Odonates
by Nina D’Arcangela

Beautiful creature of destruction; you are the embodiment of majesty and grandeur darting through the air; humming past in the blink of an eye, stunning your prey into a shock of paralytic fear; engaged always in aerial combat with the currents that fight your forward progress; rising, dropping, jerking, zipping.

Always seeking…

What is it you seek on those elegant gossamer wings? Perhaps the next meal that awaits you… What else would a voracious thing such as yourself desire? You, with your crushing mandibles and gnashing teeth, so willing to consume all that cross your path and thereafter, your gullet. A beast of miniscule proportion whose lust to sate itself knows no bounds – respects no boundaries.

The patter of rain does not deter you from the hunt – your need for nourishment is all consuming; it’s all your disjointed body knows. The repeated pumping of your clasping organ seeking purchase as it curves downward to secure a hold in this new and foreign terrain. Your legs spread so delicately, laid wide ever so gently, in this most opportunistic of places. Large bead like eyes of gleaming blackness adapted for spotting the smallest of morsels passing by whilst you suckle on nature’s other offerings.

You have at last found a worthy feeding ground amongst the thin grasses of this murky bank. This piece of drift offers a perch from which you may indulge your glutinous greed. You seek a place to hide, a place of recess from which you may ambush unsuspecting prey.

Cloaked by stealth and the hush of your own inner stillness, you await what tasty treat flicks past seeking a safety all its own whilst knowing not that you are now the monstrous dark occupant which all others must fear in this previously safe harbor.

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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 A.F. Stewart @scribe77 @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Automaton
by A.F. Stewart

Click, clack, click, clack. Round and round, the gears tumbled inside his head. He could hear them spinning, spinning, every second of the day and night. It was enough to drive him mad. He learned to live with it, however much it distracted him.

He probably needed repairs, but his owner never sent him out for maintenance. Too costly right now. Make do. That’s what he always said. What was an automaton to do but obey? Never enough oil for his gears, never enough polish for those rust stains. Never enough upkeep for anything. It affected his memory, too. Daily tasks not done, and sometimes, he’d find himself in a room and not know why.

Then there was the body.

He didn’t quite know what to do with it, the corpse of his owner. Calling the authorities would be the approved course, but he always forgot the task. So, he had put it in the freezer for now. It fit nicely after he disposed of the food; it wasn’t as if he needed to eat and it temporarily solved his predicament.

Still, the problem perplexed him. How had his owner died? The manner of death seemed violent. And it seemed as if he ought to remember what happened. Flashes came to him sometimes, of an argument, of a glitch in his system, and every now and then he’d remember those reddish stains on his metal finish weren’t rust.

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More from A.F. Stewart:

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Visions and Nightmares

Tragedy spares no one… and takes no prisoners.
In the twilight shadows, secrets are revealed past the whispers of madness.

Wander into the realm of the old gods with Elenora, where humanity and marriage are a prison.
Step through a looking glass of dark horrors with an Alice you never knew.
Join with Zenna to seek the truth as her death by magic grows closer.
Journey with Olivia as she crosses paths with a monster of the forest and runs for her life.
Watch Isobel summon the faerie to solve her problem of an unwanted husband.
Shiver as Doctor Killbride experiments with corpses to create life from death.
All that and more await within the pages.

Ten stories. Ten women.
Who will survive? Who will fall? And who will succumb to their inner evil?
Find out in Visions and Nightmares.

Warning: This book contains disturbing scenes that may be upsetting to some readers.

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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Mother Nature and Father Time  
by Rie Sheridan Rose 

“It’s Time, isn’t it? I haven’t seen you…oh, since the beginning. We came a long way, but I suppose this is the end now.”

“I’m afraid so. There’s nothing left for either of us here. Look around. Your pets have destroyed everything. I warned you, but I know how hard it is to ignore a mother’s instincts.”

“It is a bit decimated, isn’t it? All the green is gone, and the pets died out or ran away, looking for a new territory to conquer. I, myself, can’t even muster the strength to put on leaves. Who is there to notice?”

“You are still beautiful to me. Come away with me.”

“Where will we go? My place is here for as long as there is a here…”

“About that…this place is scheduled for demolition any day now. I can only hold off the inevitable for so long. You can come with me to the stars—”

“No, thank you. My place is here—even if there isn’t a here. If the earth is to be destroyed, then I suppose it is time for me to go as well. No offense meant.”

“None taken. If that’s your final word on the subject, I understand. I’ll miss you.”

“And I you…but all things end. Except you, I suppose. Time is endless.”

“Perhaps. Lonely in any case.”

“Stop by before the end…or should I consider this goodbye?”

“I’ll be here for you, ‘when the world falls down…’”

“I always loved that song. I’m tired now. I think I’ll rest a bit.”

“It’s been an honor knowing you, Nature. Perhaps we will meet again somewhere, some-when.”

“Perhaps. In time.”

 
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 Alex Grehy @indigodreamers @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Soul Searcher  
by Alex Grehy

There was nothing odd in the studio when the police broke in.

The neighbours had called about the foetid smell. The cloying stench of dead, rotting flesh, they assumed, yet it invaded the building like a living entity. They expected a corpse, putrid, obscene – the air was so hot in the glare of the lights, but the studio was bright and pristine.

If the Searcher had known his final experiment would fail, would he have even tried?

He was a clever man with eclectic interests, a small obituary in the local paper later reported. His photography was acclaimed for its attention to detail and outstanding clarity. Many found his fascination with taxidermy repellent, but he always maintained that the death of his subjects was nothing to do with him. 

He’d lied, of course – trapping them, alive, torturing them ever more inventively, drawing out the moment of their death, taking the time to get his cameras aligned.

He never found what he searched for – just one image of a soul – a form, a tinge, a shimmer, anything.

He was an erudite man, as you might expect, an expert in old philosophies and new ideologies. But his knowledge was unleavened by compassion. He concluded, right or wrong, that animals had no souls. So he moved on to humans, choosing subjects among the dispossessed, the lonely. Still no souls appeared. He concluded they had been unworthy.

He preyed on the virtuous.

He preyed on the innocent.

He preyed on the holy.

Nothing. Nothing. NOTHING!

His apparent wisdom led him to the obvious conclusion – driven by the nobility of his life’s work, the only soul on earth must be his.

There was nothing odd in the studio when the police broke in. They expected a body, putrid, obscene – the air was so hot in the glare of the lights, but the studio was bright and pristine.

Which would have disappointed him, having taken such pains to set up the lighting – shadowless, pure, a heaven of sorts to suspend his soul. He’d angled the cameras accurately; the precision of the channels that would siphon his blood was a work of genius; dissolving the salt that would trip the shutter release at the predicted moment of his death, given his heart rate and length of incision. If only the world had witnessed the elegance of his scheme as he took a knife to his wrists. How he’d hoped that the beauty of his departing soul would reflect on his gracefully posed body.

How could he have known that souls were elusive and cunning? They were never going to be captured on film. How could he have known of their patience, those tortured souls just waiting for vengeance? How could he have known the tunnel vision that presaged his death was caused by their shadows? The animals, the children, the vagrants, the clergy, all crowded in for redress. They took him apart, limbs, organs, cells – probing and tearing until not one atom remained. Fogged film and the malodour of their mortification was all they left behind as they floated away, unavenged, for the searcher had no soul to atone for his crimes.

There was nothing odd in the studio when the police broke in. They expected a body, putrid, obscene – the air was so hot in the glare of the lights, but the studio was bright and pristine.

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Fiction © Copyright Alex Grehy
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Alex Grehy:

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After a lifetime of writing technical non-fiction, Alex Grey is fulfilling her dream of writing poems and stories that engage the reader’s emotions. Her work has been featured by a wide range of publications including Siren’s Call, Raconteur, Bookends Review, and Toasted Cheese. One of her comic poems is also available via a worldwide network of public fiction dispensers managed by French publisher, Short Edition. Her ingredients for contentment are narrow boating, greyhounds, singing and chocolate. It is a sweet life, yet Alex’ original view of the world has led to her best friend to say ‘For someone so lovely, you’re very twisted!

Please click here to discover more!   

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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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Dragonflies Cannot Tell Lies
by Melissa R. Mendelson 

As he made his way through the bar, nobody paid any attention to him.  Glasses clinked.  Women laughed.  Billiard balls smacked one another, and a drunk nearby talked loudly about being fired.

I’m here for the dragonfly.”

The bar went silent.

I’m here to see the dragonfly.”

The bartender fixed him with a hard stare.  He looked him up and down, and even the drunk stared at him.  The bartender glanced at the drunk and then nodded over his shoulder.  “Back room,” he said.

Thank you.”  He made his way over to the back room.

The back room was dim with a table and two chairs in the middle of the room.  A large man that could’ve been mistaken for a biker sat in one chair.  He gestured toward the other seat.

You the dragonfly?”

I’m one of them,” he answered.

I need the truth.”

Hundred dollars.”

Hundred dollars?  That’s a heavy price to pay.”

That’s why lies are cheap.”

Fine.  A hundred dollars.”  He fished into his pocket, pulling out a bunch of twenties.

One truth.” The man took the money from him.

That’s it?”

Hey, the truth doesn’t come easy or free.”

Fine.  One truth.”  He sat down in the empty seat, eyeing the man in front of him.  “Who am I?”

Don’t you know,” he asked.  His response was a shrug.  “You won’t like my answer.”

I’m a good person.”

Sure you are, but saying it doesn’t make it so.”

I am a good person.”

Well, if you want me to lie to you, I don’t need your money.”

I need to hear you say it.”

Dragonflies don’t lie.”

And if they did?”

They die, so no, I won’t say it.”

Not even for your daughter?”

The man shot up to his feet, looming over him. His eyes shined from the dim light nearby.  A buzzing sound filled the room.  “Excuse me?”

My buddy’s outside right now.  If I don’t text him in the next five minutes, he’s going to slip something into her drink, and she won’t see it coming.  Am I lying now?”

No, you’re not.” He sat back down in his seat.  “Why are you doing this?”

Because we control the truth not you.  You keep it for yourselves, dishing it out a little by little like we can’t handle it.”

You can’t handle the truth.”

Time’s almost up.  What say you?”

You think you’ve won, that the truth is yours to do with as you please. The truth is for your money’s worth that you’re wrong.  The truth won’t die with us, and eventually one of us will catch up to you.”

I guess you’re not all a good person then.”

The man stared at him for a long moment. “You are a good person.”

His body slumped over. His head fell against the chair.  A pair of wings arched up from his back but then fluttered down to the ground. 

He stood up from his chair, leaned over and ripped off the man’s face.

A dragonfly stared back at him.

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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 K.R. Morrison @KRMorrison2 @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Johny’s Wife
by K.R. Morrison 

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“Get away from that!”

Johnny’s wife jumped and spun around. She’d no idea that he would be back so soon.

He was already up the ladder, and she caught a glimpse of something of an orange tabby nature being thrown into the top of the machine.

She knew that speck of orange.

“Was that Florence?” she asked in a timid voice.

Johnny shrugged. “How should I know? Just another mangy cat.”

Johnny’s wife – Norma was her name – ran back into the house in order to escape the sounds of the machine starting up.

Inside, she fumed. She’d really liked Florence, and began to rue the day that she had first started feeding the little cat. But even more than that, she was deeply angry at herself for having ever believed Johnny’s lies.

“Mystery meat” indeed!

Well, she finally had all she could stand. What was even better, she also had all the information necessary to work the mechanizations of that awful device—and how to get it into a state of disrepair.

Odd, how something as simple as a pot lid could totally mess up a monster and not be all that easy to find – or reach.

She waited.

Chug, chug, chug went the machine.

Bop, bop, bop went her heart in anticipation.

Then – chug, chugga…chu-chunk!

And silence.

“What the hell?” came Johnny’s voice. She could hear him slide the ladder back over, could hear him grumbling and swearing as he climbed the rungs.

The lid of the machine opened and thudded against the top.

Silence again. She could imagine him squinting into the mess that was inside that horrid contraption.

A moment later, a grunt. She was sure that he now saw the glint of steel. She always made sure that her pots and pans shone.

“What…? Norma!!” he thundered.

She peeked out of the kitchen. “Yes?”

“What is this thing in my machine?”

“What thing? I don’t go near that hellish beast.”

She allowed herself a small smile as he reached for the pot lid – and fell into the mix!

Mousey little Norma listened for the sound of the item being removed from the gears. Then, smiling broadly, she ran to the machine’s switch and flipped it on.

She was grinning broadly two weeks later when the pieces of the mechanism were carted away. She had made sure that they were in excellent condition and thoroughly washed. Norma wasn’t the bravest sword in the armory, but she could read. And she now knew a lot about machinery.

No one ever questioned Johnny’s whereabouts. Cats and dogs were gradually re-introduced into the neighborhood, and soon were running freely or sleeping on porch seats everywhere.

Every year, there is a great party in Norma’s driveway. All of the neighbors bring potluck items, and everyone has a great time.

And you can bet that no one ever, EVER, brings sausages.

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

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