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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

November_img_02The Dead City
by Asena Lourenco

The lights of the city fade to none,
The eerie night had begun,
Streets devoid of all living things,
Apart from the ones with dark, gossamer wings,
Screeching screams squabbled in the form of squawks,
The walls of many whispers, deep in talk,
The alleyways, illuminated by the dim streetlights,
Not one stroke of colour was in sight,
The cause of this, no one can be sure,
All that is known is that it was done from a soul impure,
This town was robbed from all things alive,
Not one person was known to survive,
So, lock up your doors and shut your blinds,
Because if you don’t, you will be the one that they find
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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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Scarlett R. Algee @ScarlettRAlgee @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

November_img_02A Little Friendly Competition
by Scarlett R. Algee

It looks like a nice street to die on, he’d said.
Nice. That’s a good word, she decides, studying the stretch of cobblestone beneath her boots. Not to her taste, exactly: a little too affluent, too bright, too open to too many side streets yawning mouths that offer escape. But still. It’s nice.
She slips one hand into his. It’s not a thing, they chat and stroll and kill and have tea together but they don’t have a thing, it’s just comfortable, feeling their gloved fingers squeak together. “Down there, right?”
They stand still beneath the one faulty streetlight, its lamp cracked and flickering, and he follows the line of her gaze to where a closing pub is disgorging yellow light and the last of its patrons onto the cobbled street: the stragglers, the ones going home to lucid spouses and sullen children, the ones not going home at all.
She sticks a leather-covered finger in her mouth and bites down on the knuckle, studying the last trailing figures. The final one slumps in his coat a little, staggers, reaches to steady himself against a concrete bollard. Shakes his head and looks around, with the half-blind slowness of the deeply intoxicated.
“Him,” she says.
Her partner scowls, if only with his voice. “No sport in it. He’s too drunk.”
“We have rules now?” She lets out a hitching little laugh and disengages their still-clasped fingers. “The sport,” she answers slowly, “is that I’ll get to him first.”
He chuckles and then swears, because she’s already gone, slipping in and out of shadows, eyes on her target. Already picturing pulling the drunk man into an alley, steel in her hand sinking into flesh, turning the body to direct the blood away from the lights and the cobbles because it is, really, a very nice street.
She hears her partner’s footsteps behind, but doesn’t slow. This one is hers, although maybe she’ll let him help.
Or maybe not. Make it a little friendly competition. They are, after all, not a thing.
Fiction © Copyright Scarlett R. Algee
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Scarlett R. Algee:

The Lift: Nine Stories of Transformation, Volume One

The hall is dark and the overhead light flickers. Sounds echo, and there’s a creaking and clanging that gets louder as you stand in the semi-dark. The elevator opens and you’re offered a ride. Step inside and ride it to the story chosen for your transformation. Don’t be afraid, for Victoria, the mysterious girl who operates The Lift, waits to guide you. Set in the same world as the award nominated audio drama, The Lift’s first written anthology features nine all new stories by fan favorite writers and special bonus content by creators Daniel Foytik and Cynthia Lowman. The collection is brought to life with beautiful illustrations by Jeanette Andromeda for each story.

Available on Amazon!

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

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

November_img_03A Final Meeting at the Pillar of Sadness
by Sheri White

BEFORE:
It was a gathering place—we shopped, we ate, we danced and sang. Children laughed and played, chasing each other and yelling “You’re it!”
But when Evelyn began to sing, everything stopped. Her voice—it would be a tired cliché to say she had the voice of an angel, but truly there is no other description. Beatles’ songs were her favorite; when she strummed the first notes of “Blackbird” on her guitar and sang the first few words, every one of us shivered and closed our eyes.
We had no idea our happiness wouldn’t last.
***
AFTER:
Our city is nothing but rubble and burned-out buildings and vehicles. We’ve learned to ignore the burned corpses hanging out of buses and cars. The dead who were outside when it happened—well, the less said the better.
Those of us who survived spend our time scavenging for food and water; both are in short supply. We keep hidden as much as possible; we take turns watching while others sleep. We are surviving, not living; there is no time for any of the joys of BEFORE. We are as quiet as possible in order to stay alive.
But lately, something is happening. Whispers of fighting back, no matter the cost. To try and get our lives back. Graffiti has become a means of communication, a secret code. New messages are added every day and night, covering our once-beautiful marketplace in words and pictures. It’s a new kind of beautiful, though.
The other day I passed another survivor while we searched for supplies in an old grocery store. There isn’t much left by now, but we still look. He lightly shoulder-checked me to get my attention and said something in such a low voice I wasn’t sure I really heard it.
Meet at the Pillar of Sadness tomorrow night.
I turned around, but he just kept walking. But I did see him do the same to others nearby. I started saying it to people I encountered too, hoping it meant something. I did wonder why there would be a meeting at night when we try to sleep as best we can.
The next night, I crept to the marketplace, along with many others. My mouth dropped open.
Hundreds of us crowded the marketplace. Candles and flashlights brightened the night. We murmured, feeling the electricity flowing through the air. We were all nervous, scared; we weren’t used to being out after dark, especially in a crowd. We were in danger and we knew it, but nobody left.
Then we heard it. The strumming of a guitar, and a voice that could only belong to our Evelyn. I pushed my way to the front of the crowd to see her standing in front of the pillar with the sad face drawn with spray paint.
“Hello darkness, my old friend…”
We sang along with her, with trembling voices not used to more than a whisper, and tears running down our faces.
In the distance we heard them coming for us. We kept singing.
“And no one dare disturb the sound of silence…”
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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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Bailey Hunter @DarkRecesses @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

November_img_02

Price of Immortality
by Bailey Hunter

The frenzied sounds of Stravinsky’s ‘Rite of Spring’ pounded furiously through the workshop, spilling out into the quiet streets below as the artist waited, impatient for the bronze to liquefy. This was to be his best sculpture yet.
His excitement built with every second. He was sure to win awards with this piece. The world would see his brilliance at last. No more being ignored. They’d have to recognise him after this. 
The gallery owner’s words creeped into his mind again, weaving around his brain, scratching themselves into his skull… Your work is technically sound, but it lacks soul. Not this time.  He had given every ounce of heart and soul he had into this piece. She’d see. They’d all see.
“Finally!” 
Carefully he started to pour the molten metal into the cast, capturing the essence of that soul that had been missing from his previous works. A crescendo of strings filled the night air like a raging fire raging consuming the artist, until he was ripped from the ecstasy by a terrible screeching sound.
With a scornful gaze he turned to his wife. 
“Quit your screaming, Jean. After all, it was you who demanded I immortalize you in bronze.”
Fiction © Copyright Bailey Hunter
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
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More from Bailey Hunter:
Bailey is a publisher with Dark Recesses Press.

DeadWomenInLoveCover_FrontDead Women in Love

Harvey Drago, Intangible Private Eye, is back in DEAD WOMEN IN LOVE.

Join him as he investigates the brutal death of a history professor, as well as the disappearances of several ladies of the evening. Both cases turn out to be related to the mysterious human-shaped piles of ashes being left around Nashville, and the decades-old theft of priceless Egyptian relics, including the mummy of a nefarious pharaoh. Supernatural Investigations Bureau agent Amy Marten weaves a seductive spell over our hero, as does the oddly rejuvenated Pam, his long-time occasional paramour. Is it his body they’re after, or his heart? Maybe his soul? Or is it something even more intimate than that?

 

DarkRecessesPress.com

 
Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

The Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Stacey Turner @Spot_Speaks @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

November_img_01

Off the Beaten Path
by Stacey Turner

It was clever, Fifika thought. The way he’d tried to outsmart her curse. She’d cursed him to an eternity of staying put when everyone knew a vampire had to roam to survive. And yet, he’d not only survived, he’d thrived. The bastard. Who’d have thought he’d build himself a town and invite other paranormal creatures to come to him? The idea was brilliant really. And if she didn’t hate him so much, she might admire his intelligence. But hate him she did. He’d left her to weather the change alone. No sire to guide her through her thirst, the first hunt, the first spilling of blood. Thankfully she’d been raised on grand-mère’s stories of night creatures and semi knew what to expect. Semi, because nothing could have prepared her for the fever that had raged until she sated herself with her first human blood. Luckily her Romani blood and nomadic ways set her up well for the life she was forced to live after. And all for a debt that wasn’t hers.
She pushed aside the hurt and anger. She’d lived nearly a century in the dark. But gradually, as she aged she’d begun to tolerate the sun. She’d heard rumors only a certain clan of vampires could walk in the sun. An ancient Hungarian line. Anton’s line. Now, she walked the forest path over weathered boards towards her sire and his town in the light of the fading sun. She’d learned much in the intervening years. Spent the time wisely, gathering knowledge of her enemy, and of his enemies. They said “the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” but Fifika had no wish to befriend his enemies. It boggled the mind, but they were worse than even he. She’d seen horrible things, things far worse than grand-mère’s stories had prepared her to witness. Always though, the need for vengeance spurred her on. A fire that warmed her even on the darkest, most soul crushing nights.
The town appeared out of the mist before her. It was beautiful. Charming houses lined cobbled streets, some wood, some stone. Each with a lovely chimney. All nestled in the surrounding pine forest. Pine Haven he’d called it. She’d been told only those with supernatural abilities could even see the town; to normal humans it was cloaked and appeared as nothing more than forest. Fucking brilliant bastard. He couldn’t go out into the world, so he brought it to him. Well she’d brought something to him as well. The end. She was going to end him and his charming fucking town if it killed her. She hoped desperately that it did.
Fiction © Copyright Stacey Turner
Image courtesy of Nina D’Arcangela

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More from author Stacey Turner:

sthl

Stalking Hazel: A Pine Haven Novella

What happens when a naive mermaid decides to leave her underwater paradise to live on the land?

Hazel was the first in her clan to forsake the ocean in favor of land. She thought Pine Haven, a town founded for paranormals to live in safety, would be the perfect place. But her involvement with one of the town’s two human residents raises eyebrows and suspicion.

Why is her nosy neighbor, Leo, keeping tabs on her? And why does he look so darn good in those tight clothes?

When Hazel finds herself in trouble she learns who really cares about her and how powerful accepting your true nature can be.

Available on Amazon!

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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Christina Sng @ChristinaSng @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


November_img_04
Into the Tall Grass
by Christina Sng

Vermillion plumes rise
From the black towers.
Who are they burning today?

I clutch the children tight,
Relieved we ran when we did,
Safe for now in the wilderness.

In the tower pyres,
The Overlords are culling again,
Our elders rounded up
And incinerated
To fuel the engines and run the city,
And to make room for the young.
Father grasps my hand,
Thinking of his friends left behind,
All of them on the culling list.
Are they in the plumes tonight?
Or are they still safe and alive
In their concrete homes?
We will never know.
It is time to move.
We have stayed here too long.
Soon,
Someone will notice
We are missing
And the Overlords
Will send Hunters after us.
They are merciless.
Wasp-sized, their bites paralyze
And inject a tracker
For the retrieval team to collect us.
After all,
We are fuel for the furnace,
An energy source for the city.
Someone needs to feed the monster.
And the Overlords think,
Better them than us.
I beg everyone to walk a little faster
But they tire.
We rest.
But minutes later,
A familiar buzzing fills the air.
The Hunters have found us.
Father tells me
To take the children and go.
He will distract the Hunters
To allow us to escape, undetected.
“The children need their mother,”
He whispers, urgently.
I shake my head
And pull him back.
“They also need their grandfather!”
The Hunters are almost upon us.
Before us, a river looms.
We run.
“Get in the water!” Father cries.
We lie face up in the shallows,
Eyes closed, staying calm.
We have practiced this
For a long time.
And after a song,
Ten songs,
They pass us by
And go home.
Only now
Will they conclude
We have died.
I should know.
They were my design—
The Hunters I created were
For defense against the aliens,
Not our own people.
I protested.
So they sentenced me to die,
Along with everyone I love.
Not all of us made it out.
We surface in silence,
My eyes darting, scanning the sky.
There is no sign of them.
I hold Father and my children tight.
For the first time since we fled,
I let myself cry.
Freedom has never tasted sweeter.
Life, never more precious.
Finally, we are free from the Overlords.
We fill our bottles with water
And head south, along the river.
We will cross the forest
Into the desert,
Through the sand dunes
To an oasis where it is safe.
I tell them this
To give them hope.
But there is nothing out here.
Nothing I know of.
Only death.
But hopefully,
A death
That will be far away from now.
Somehow, we will live.
Somehow, we will thrive.
We take our first step
Into the tall grass.
Fiction © Copyright Christina Sng
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Christina Sng:

A Collection of Nightmares

Hold your screams and enter a world of seasonal creatures, dreams of bones, and confessions modeled from open eyes and endless insomnia. Christina Sng’s A Collection of Nightmares is a poetic feast of sleeplessness and shadows, an exquisite exhibition of fear and things better left unsaid. Here are ramblings at the end of the world and a path that leads to a thousand paper cuts at the hands of a skin carver. There are crawlspace whispers, and fresh sheets gently washed with sacrifice and poison, and if you’re careful in this ghost month, these poems will call upon the succubus to tend to your flesh wounds and scars.
These nightmares are sweeping fantasies that electrocute the senses as much as they dull the ache of loneliness by showing you what’s hiding under your bed, in the back of your closet, and inside your head. Sng’s poems dissect and flower, her autopsies are delicate blooms dressed with blood and syntax. Her words are charcoal and cotton, safe yet dressed in an executioner’s garb.
Dream carefully.
You’ve already made your bed.
The nightmares you have now will not be kind.
And you have no one to blame but yourself.

Available on Amazon!

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

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

November_img_03

The Ride of Their Lives
K.R. Morrison

“About time they re-opened this ride.”
Jared glared around the staging site as they waited for their turn at what was being called “The Ride of the Year.” So far it had simply been The Wait of the Century.
“Oh, quit griping,” his girlfriend, Amanda, told him. “We’re almost to the head of the line now.”
The exit doors of the ride were straight across from Jared’s group of friends, and they could see the empty cars sloshing their way around the curve.
“There’s one improvement,” he muttered. “At least the people are getting off in a different place. No more confusion as to who is supposed to be in the cars.”
“Our turn!” Jared’s sister, Bethany, was jumping up and down with excitement. Her boyfriend, Caleb, put a restraining hand on her shoulder.
“You’re making the platform wobble. Cut it out!”
The platform was indeed wobbling, which none of them had noticed before. They were only too glad to scurry to the cars and climb in.
The doors opened, and they were pulled into the darkness beyond.
The first scenario was coming up soon.
“My favorite!” whispered Amanda. “That skeleton sitting on the treasure always scared me as a kid.” She looked ahead in excited expectation. “Wonder if they’ve changed it?”
She gave a small gasp when it came into view. There was no skeleton now—the star of the set was the body of a headless man instead of gleaming bones.
“Oh, yuck!” Jared exclaimed. “Who decided that was better?”
He was suddenly interrupted by a jolt.
“Earthquake!”
“What? Now? What do we do?” Bethany was close to panicking.
But everything quieted down, and the ride went on.
The car glided up to where the ride curved around to the right. There was an alcove to their left, off of the course, that was dimly lit. Above the door was an “Exit” sign.
“Well, I guess if we’d had to leave—”
Jared’s words were cut off by Amanda’s scream.
The car had veered away from the ride, and was now heading onto the tracks toward the emergency exit!
Now on dry land, the car picked up speed, and it looked as if they were going to ram the doors. But just as they got to them, they opened without a sound, welcoming the terrified riders into a new blackness.
The car suddenly dropped straight down, and its occupants screamed and held on for dear life.
But the drop was short-lived, and they found themselves coming to a stop almost immediately.
The darkness was gone, replaced by the soft glow of torchlight. The dim fires cast shadows on aged, mildewed walls and bricked-over doorways.
The four friends got out of the car and goggled at what they saw.
“It kinda looks like…New Orleans?”
“Well, that makes sense. The ride’s scenario was supposed to take place there in the 18th century.” Caleb took down one of the torches and examined the graffiti that was splashed along one of the walls.
“Hey, I think the guys that run this thing won’t want you taking down their props,” Jared warned him.
Bethany looked down at the dust that coated the place. “I don’t think anyone’s been here in a long time.”
“Then how do you explain the lit torches?” Amanda asked.
Bethany was about to volunteer an idea, when suddenly four other people came running around a far corner. They were dressed in ragged garb and were filthy.
They stopped running when they noticed the young friends. One of them yelled something in French, and they took off again.
“Weird. They never had live actors before,” Jared said.
As the newcomers got closer, Caleb said, “I don’t think they’re actors. I remember my high school French, and they are not saying nice things about us.”
“What is going on here?” Bethany shouted.
“I don’t know, but we’d better get away from these maniacs!” Jared shouted in return.
They took off in the opposite direction, but were suddenly blocked by another group of ragged men and women. Some carried torches, but others held rakes and spears in their hands.
Before they knew it, Jared and his friends were surrounded. The filthy (and now smelly) strangers moved them down a dark hall. Flickering light danced at the end of it, and they could now hear shouting and the sounds of fighting. Fires roared, and cannons went off, as they neared the corner.
The peasants, for lack of a better term, pushed and prodded the foursome onto a cart. They shouted something, again in French, and the cart took off. People reached in between the bars to scratch at Jared and the others.
“What…why?” Bethany hugged Caleb tightly, in an attempt to get away from the clawing throng.
Someone shouted, and in his words Caleb could make out “Bastille.” Fear froze his spine, and in a moment’s time he was joined in his terror by his friends.
For, as they moved forward, they could see, black against the fiery sky, a guillotine. And it was very busy.
Fiction © Copyright K.R. Morrison
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
 

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More from Author K.R. Morrison:

Be Not Afraid (Pride’s Downfall Vol 1)

Lydia’s faith in God is strong – at least on paper. But what happens when that faith is tested? Turned into a vampire by the worst – Vlad Drakul – she feels that God has abandoned her. But the opposite is true. God rescues her from a fate worse than death, and brings her into the plan He has for global redemption. With the help He sends, she feels like nothing can stop her. But when Vlad torments her again, and then her family, the temptation to run and hide is almost too strong to resist. Her answer to God’s call is the deciding factor in the battle that pits the angelic powers of God against the demonic powers of Hell.

Available on Amazon!

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