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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_04_June2021

Harden My Heart
by Kendra Hale

You promised me forever
But forever didn’t last. 
You said you would never leave me
Never went by so fast.  
Left me here sitting alone
With our memories
Lost in this utter despair 
Like all the time has been wasted…
Since we were thirteen. 
All those memories stolen away 
Once happy, cherished even
My heart now hitches 
Looking back, my memories tinged gray
You said once we were like Romeo and Juliet
A love for all time
With years came knowledge
You were never only mine
Such an idealistic puppy love
All it has done is left me jaded 
My friends say move on
But I can’t, not while you’re still breathing
Drink with me one last time
Let it harden your heart 
Like you did mine
Once upon a time my favorite color was blue
But now, more specifically 
It is the cyanotic pallor that has become your hue.
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.

 Available on Amazon!  

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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!

Image_03_June2021

Let Sleeping Boys Lie
K.R. Morrison

Tall mountains stood sentinel in the grey mist. The fog swirled thickly around them, allowing only a few feet of vision on their downward path. Their guide, Diego, had already disappeared into the mist, eager to get as far away from the two archaeologists and their treasure as he could.
“Do you really think this is wise? It may cause more trouble than its worth.” Sandy glanced at his partner, Dr. Pete Gallagher, as he puffed his way down the hill. “You know the stories. And the Peruvian natives will definitely cause a stir when they see it.”
“But the scientific community will thank me.” Dr. Gallagher smiled as he patted the covered figure that rode a stretcher beside him. He casually ignored the terrified faces of the two men who carried it.
Sandy mused over this for a bit. He stole a glance at the mummified remains that accompanied them.
It truly was a magnificent discovery, and one that Dr. Gallagher had strived hard to bring to the attention of his fellow archaeologists. It had been an uphill struggle to get the permissions to acquire the child.
The boy looked as if he was asleep, but his murder/sacrifice had been made at least a hundred years ago—if not longer. Sandy marveled at the remarkable preservation that had been accomplished by the thin air and cold temperatures that surrounded this peak.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden and terrified screech from within the murkiness ahead.
“Dr. Gallagher? That was Diego…”
Gallagher snorted. “Probably saw a snake.”
Sandy noted that the mummy was no longer beside them. He looked back in time to see the carriers running away, slipping into the fog behind them and leaving the child abandoned on the trail.
Gallagher harumphed. “I will certainly not be paying those two. Afraid of a snake…”
His words were cut short when he saw the look of terror that now effused the face of his colleague. Sandy was pointing down the trail, seemingly paralyzed.
Gallagher looked where he was pointing, and his heart about stopped.
The skies had cleared, but the fog remained. It had morphed into a giant white snake and was coming toward them, its eyes afire and its mouth wide open.
The two didn’t have a chance to call out or to run. In seconds the snake had engulfed them.
Silence descended on the trail once again. The snake slithered to the boy, who opened his eyes for a moment and smiled. The foggy reptile picked him up in its coils and made its way back to the cave where he had been unearthed. Once inside, the boy nestled into the snake, let out a sigh of happiness, and went back to sleep.
The snake released the child, as tenderly as any mother, and left the cave.
It ascended further up the mountain and deposited the bones of the discovery party on an obscure altar stone, hidden from view for all time.  It then returned to its fog shape, forever the guardian of all that was sacred in its realm.
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, Women in Horror Month, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

The Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Naching T. Kassa @NachingKassa @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_02_OPTION_June2021

The Last One
by Naching T. Kassa

They’re coming to kill me. They’re out there, hunting. 
Undergrowth swishes against naked, gray skin. Moonlight gleams in soulless, black eyes. I catch glimpses of them as I cling to the tall palm. Hopefully, they’ll move on soon. I can’t hold on much longer.
Last night seems a million years ago. I wasn’t alone then. I had Marco. Even now, I hear his words…
“Wake up, Aleah,” Marco said, shaking me. “It’s your turn to take watch.”
I rubbed my eyes and stared across the water. The crimson sun sank from the sky and, as it fell, the lagoon grew red as blood.
“Night’s coming,” I said. “Shouldn’t we move on? They’ll come out to hunt soon.”
“They won’t come until the moon rises. We have time.”
“I wish the boat was ready.”
“It’ll be ready tomorrow. Then, we’ll leave this place.”
“They sabotaged all the other boats. Are you sure this one is safe?”
“They’ll never find it where we hid it.” Marco settled into the sand and shut his eyes. 
“Wake me when you see the moon.”
I huddled beside him and hugged my knees as the sun slipped away. 
Night sounds forced me to study my surroundings. Jungle lay behind me and to the right while the beach stretched in the opposite direction. I focused on the sand. Movement attracted my eye. 
In the distance, near a grove of palms, a figure appeared. It moved on two legs at a slow and easy pace.
“Marco?” I whispered.
“Hmm?”
“Something’s coming.”
As though he’d heard my words, the figure halted. He stood silhouetted against the sand.
“Can’t be,” Marco said, without opening his eyes. “It’s not moonrise yet. It must be a pig or something.”
“Pigs don’t walk on two legs.”
The figure fell to the ground and crawled forward.
“What the—”
Marco glanced up. “It’s not walking on two legs.”
“It was. I saw it. Please, let’s get off the beach.”
“It’s a pig.”
The figure halted once more. A chill climbed my spine as it rose to its feet. It rushed forward.
“Move!” I cried.
Marco scrambled through the sand after me as we hurried from the beach and into the jungle beyond. 
“Climb a tree,” Marco said. “Hurry. I’ll lead him away.”
I scaled the nearest palm, secreting myself among the long fronds while Marco rushed by.
Moments after, something came crashing through the undergrowth. The sound receded into the distance.
Time passed and my arms grew sore. I shifted position as quietly as I could. At last, Marco returned.
“Aleah, come down,” he whispered.
The moon rose and its silver light revealed the world below us. 
“He’s gone,” Marco said at last. “Let’s go.”
“What if he’s still down there? What if he’s waiting?”
“We can’t stay here.”
As Marco slid down the trunk, I hesitated. Then, prepared to do the same. 
A shout halted my descent. I couldn’t understand Marco’s words.
The agonized shriek which followed chilled me to the marrow. I lost my hold on the tree and fell to the ground. 
The monster stood a few feet away from me. His smile gleamed in the moonlight.
Two rows of teeth lined his impossibly large mouth. Each resembled a triangular shark’s tooth coated in blood. Marco hung limp, trapped in the creature’s arms, a chunk of flesh missing from his chest. 
The monster’s eyes rolled back in his head as he bit into Marco once more.
I struggled to my feet and sprinted away.
When I stopped, I found another tree to hide in. There I stayed until the sun rose. Then, I returned to the boat.
It took longer to repair without Marco’s aid. I fashioned the sail with palm fronds. The greenery cut my hands and the blood mixed with my tears. When I finished, the sun had already deserted the sky. I covered it and retired to a tree for the night.
That was two hours ago, before the moon rose.
It’s up now. The monster wanders in its glow. 
He’s not alone.
Five creatures search the undergrowth below me, thrashing about my tree. Is it my sweat they smell? Or is it the blood from my wounded fingers? If only they would leave! 
At last, they wander away. 
I descend the tree in silence, pausing before I reach the bottom. No one awaits my arrival. Vegetation and sand muffle my footsteps.
The boat waits on the edge of the lagoon. It appears untouched. 
I slip into it as a shadow passes over the moon. I look up for a cloud and see none.
They surround me.
Each bares their teeth to me. Nostrils flare. They approach and withdraw, circling in a strange and intricate dance. Who will strike first?
Pain sears through my arm. I see teeth buried in my bicep and then, the flesh vanishes.
I fall back into the boat and seize the only weapon I can find as the creature charges me. The oar is heavy in my hands and the strike is true. I smash the creature across the head.
The oar splinters apart leaving a deep wound in the thing’s gray skin. Blood oozes and the creature falls into the incoming tide. The waves snatch the boat away from the sand.
The creature tries to rise, tries to pursue me but the others fall upon him. Blood flows. It seems to excite them, whipping them into a frenzy. 
Their eyes roll back in their heads as they sink their teeth into him. He screams.
I shut my eyes and float away.
Fiction © Copyright Naching T. Kassa
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
 

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More from Naching T. Kassa:

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Arterial Bloom

Lush. Brutal.

Beautiful. Visceral.

Crystal Lake Publishing proudly presents Arterial Bloom, an artful juxtaposition of the magnificence and macabre that exist within mankind. Each tale in this collection is resplendent with beauty, teeth, and heart.

Edited by the Bram Stoker Award-winning writer Mercedes M. Yardley, Arterial Bloom is a literary experience featuring sixteen stories from some of the most compelling dark authors writing today.

With a foreword by HWA Lifetime Achievement Award Recipient Linda D. Addison, you are invited to step inside and let the grim flowers wind themselves comfortably around your bones.

Available on Amazon!

 

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_01_June2021A Small Token of Thanks
by Terrie Leigh Relf

Quite a few young women went missing that summer. Mostly college students on holiday with friends. During the day, they would gather at the beach. At night, there were trips to the pub, and afterwards, perhaps moonlit strolls with some young man they fancied or who fancied them. 
The usual media circus didn’t begin until summer’s end, though. By that time, nearly a dozen women had gone missing. Likely more. “It is difficult to say for sure,” the authorities said, “as they may have traveled elsewhere.” As if that possibility would console the families . . . 
It really had been a lovely summer. So as a small token of thanks, I set one of my favorite’s shoes along the water with a bouquet of flowers. Even though I preferred to keep each pair, it was the least that I could do to let go of one of my trophies. I took a photo, of course, as a memento mori. It’s not like anyone would question why, as I was the local photographer, after all.
Fiction © Copyright Terrie Leigh Relf
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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More from author Terrie Leigh Relf:

The Sisterhood of the Blood Moon

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

Available for purchase from the Alban Lake Store!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Melissa R. Mendelson @melissmendelson @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_04_June2021

Lactose Intolerance
by Melissa R. Mendelson

The Farmland Virus arrived overnight, wiping out any animal life that had been or still was at a farm.  There was no rhyme or reason.  The animals were just dead.  The Milk Riots followed shortly afterward, crazed crowds stampeding into the grocery stores, gas stations and anywhere else that sold dairy products including milk.  My last container barely made it through the week, and there had been alternatives, almond and soy milk.  It was not the same, and those products quickly disappeared afterward.  And the world remained insane.
My next-door neighbor was carried out on a stretcher, restrained and screaming that he got milk.  He had found a way to bring it back.  He found something.  His lips were white.  His eyes glassy.  He had disappeared for months after the Farmland Virus struck the world, and all that time, he was in his basement, working on something.  I thought he was dead until he stepped outside yesterday, screaming lunacy, but what if he found something?  What if he did got milk?
The back door to his house was left open.  No one was looking, and no one cared.  They were too self-absorbed in their own misery, so I wasn’t worried about people calling the cops on me when I entered his house.  My excitement soon turned to disappointment.  There was nothing here.  The upstairs and downstairs were empty.  The fridge bare.  Even the basement was a disappointment.  Dust bunnies, spider webs, corroded tools, and a strange looking plant.  What the hell had driven my neighbor so mad?
I almost walked out of there, cursing myself for being so stupid, but I didn’t want to leave empty-handed.  I returned back to the basement for the strange plant.  It reminded me of eyeballs, but upon closer inspection, it looked like grapes, grapes with black nipples.  Was it food?  I tried to bite into one, but it was hard as hell.  I looked at the black nipple.  Why would a grape have that?  I figured, what the hell?  I sucked from the nipple and tasted milk.  The taste was exhilarating, and I moved from one grape over to the next and the next.
The sun was shining bright, and I was singing on top of my lungs.  I was outside my neighbor’s house, swaying to the breeze.  I don’t know what I was singing, but as my tongue moved, the milk taste increased.  I had to keep my tongue moving because when it stopped, a horrible taste followed, a taste that I could not explain.  It was like alcohol and rubber and disinfectant?  My neighbor was a genius, but he had not worked out all the bugs.  I sang louder, and in the distance, I heard the sirens coming to take me away.
Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
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More from Melissa R. Mendelson:

nmkmmName’s Keeper

I got a one-way ticket out of hell. All I need to do is drive across country with a body in the trunk and run miscellaneous errands, but a lot of those errands come with a heavy price. And if I lose the body in the trunk, then I have to go back, and I’ll be damned if I return down there. I will fight to stay here, even if there is no rest for those wicked.

Available on Amazon!

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_03_June2021The Whistler
by Elaine Pascale

“If you hear a whistle, run for your life.”
The scouting trip had been in the works for months. What had not been planned was the loss of a scout on the second day of the trip.
And not just any scout. Hayden’s mother’s anxiety had grown with the approach of the trip. She had called the scout master daily to remind him that Hayden needed to take his Ritalin. She had explained that he needed his sleep mask and ear plugs even in the deepest, darkest woods. She had produced his inhaler and backup inhaler.
She reminded him that Hayden is special.
Despite Hayden’s mother, or maybe to spite her, the troop headed into the woods.
The boys had told “Whistler” stories as they ascended the mountain.
“He will skin you alive.”
“He will eat your eyeballs.”
“He carries a sack of his victim’s bones on his back.”
Despite the scary tales, the boys had fallen asleep at a decent hour from the fatigue of climbing. The scout master was awoken with rising shouts to accompany the rising sun.
“Hayden is gone!”
The scout master asked, “Are you sure he is gone? Can he hear us calling? Are his ear plugs in?”
The boys exchanged quizzical looks.
“Let’s not notify his mother just yet.” The scout master feigned composure. He said this despite knowing how Hayden’s mother was, or maybe because he knew how Hayden’s mother was.
Two nights passed; each with reports of whistling that kept the boys awake at night. Despite knowing they had spouted the words of myth; they were certain that the Whistler was coming to collect their bones. 
“He will drag us around the mountains forever.”
“We will never make it home.”
“Poor Hayden.”
The third night the whistle had been accompanied by shadows moving through the forest. 
“We have to leave.”
“He is after us.”
“We have to face Hayden’s mother at some point.”
The scout master was more afraid of Hayden’s mother than he was of the Whistler, but he agreed to descend the mountain at daybreak.
The rising sun brought panicked whispers.
“We can’t leave the tent; he is right outside, whistling.”
Despite knowing the troop would be worried, or perhaps to spite the troop, there was a whistler seated by the dying campfire. 
It was Hayden, stripping unidentified hides and stashing the bones in a large sack.
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 A.F. Stewart @scribe77 @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_02_OPTION_June2021Selkie’s Song
by A.F. Stewart

Seal lass, fair
creature beauteous and rare
A discarded pelt within reach
so svelte; a theft you will dare
From salt sea
she hails, spirit wild and free
A possession to be had;
she would not ever agree
Smell the brine,
woven into the bloodline
of the saturated fur;
the fates concur and entwine
With a grin,
you cry, Now I have your skin!
She turns and laughs, Silly boy,
now caught by the ploy we spin
Ruefully
Not a great wedding, you see
But you’ll make a fine repast
for the fair lass of the sea
Fiction © Copyright A.F. Stewart
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
 

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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 Alyson Faye @AlysonFaye2 @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


Image_01_June2021
One Boot Tells Its Tail
by Alyson Faye

You stand naked
carved from moonshine,
your eyes oyster pearls
casting aside your
humane skin
for shimmering scales.
You have
led me
to this shore
bearing flowers,
a tangled posy
of ragwort and daisies
ripped from our
meadow-bed,
sweet, oh so sweet your breath
where we had lain
that morning
awash with lust and longing
transformed now into
my funeral wreath,
and you into sea-witch,
serpent-seductress,
whose hair coils tight
around my wrists,
whose tail froths the waves
and whose kiss
oh those lips
sweet mercy
Jesus save me 
suck the life from me
leaving  . . .
one boot upon the shore.
Fiction © Copyright Alyson Faye
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Alyson Faye:

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The Lost Girl & Spindleshanks

The Lost Girl
A nailed-up door. An inheritance which comes with a ghost. A missing girl. A fifty-year-old mystery. Parapsychologist Berkley Osgood is hired to investigate. What he uncovers reveals secrets the living want to hide and the dead will never forgive.

Spindleshanks
Adam is having nightmares about a skeletal shadow figure, who he calls Spindleshanks. Soon his whole class are sharing the same nightmare. Adam’s dad, Rob, knows that Spindleshanks can’t be real. But is he? One terrible night Rob has to face his son’s nightmare creature and fight for his son’s life. What would you sacrifice to have your child back safe?

“A decent two-for-one. Alyson Faye brings the engaging and eerie in equal measure.” CC Adams – horror / dark fiction author

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Alina Măciucă @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_04_June2021Beware of the Nymphs by the Red Currant Bushes
by Alina Măciucă

Grandma held a tin flashlight she had bought sometime in the late 70s in her left hand and a straw bag half her own size in her right one.  “You take another bite of that and I’ll leave you with them.”
I carried the offerings, unsalted rye bread smeared with red currant jam that blasted your palate with comfortable sourness and midsummer indulgence, a bottle of homemade white wine, to lure the nymphs with, and a rusty iron chain on my shoulder.
They said the nymphs were jealous and that’s why they mangled her all those years ago. Left her with a limp and a hunch and a crooked jaw. That’s why grandma and I plotted to trap one and keep her in our basement. Stick needles under her fingernails.
She seized the offerings and handed me the bag. I struggled not to check for shadows, flares or flashes around the red currant bushes every ten breaths. 
“Hope you haven’t peed your pants,” she said.
The nymphs popped out of their ethereal lairs, as if she had addressed them, not me. They floated around the grove and sniffed at the air. Nacreous and majestic, they made my blood run cold. 
“I brought you what you asked for.” Grandma didn’t back away when they swirled around her like a swarm of translucent-green pick-pockets. 
Turquoise flickers rippled through the darkness. The nymphs beamed at me. They glided towards me. And the night glowed sea-green like in the stories of old. 
Grandma left me with the bag, the chain, and her old rags. The nymphs had bestowed her with everything they took away and more. She marched along the river, now a healthy vestal with strong legs and rounded shoulders. 
Nymphs purred, that’s how they spoke to each other. The prettiest caressed my jaw. It snapped. Love expanded in my chest like marshmallow fuzziness. They touched my right eye. It dissolved. I knelt in adoration. My left breast dilated like a bursting eggplant, and the other shrank. My spine twisted. I reveled. 
Sunlight drowned the last smudges of blue-green shimmer. I tackled a berry into my mouth.It burned my tongue with yearning and defeated my bones.
Fiction © Copyright Alina Măciucă
Image courtesy of  Pixabay.comline_separator2

More about Alina Măciucă:

meblurAlina Măciucă enjoys reading, writing, buying odd trinkets, and taking photos of beautifully decaying buildings. She has formally studied religion and hermeneutics at the University of Bucharest, and really has a thing for the Greco-Roman mysteries and Gnosticism, as well as for Renaissance magic. She lives in Bucharest with her very supportive boyfriend, their two cats, and an ever-expanding vinyl and book collection.

 

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_03_June2021

Craggy Maggie
by Sonora Taylor

No trip to the beautiful gloom of New England is complete without visiting the Craggy Maggie! Named for a spinster who lived at the top of the mountain, Craggy Maggie State Park has been bewitching visitors since 1694.
Come in the morning and hear the gentle twitter of birds as you walk along the narrow paths. Ignore the cracking noises–they may sound like bone, but it’s just a few early-riser animals making their way through the forest!
If you’re not an early bird, there’s always high noon. You’d never know it was noon, though, because these mountains haven’t seen the sun since Craggy Maggie suffered an unfortunate bout of sunburn (according to the town, at least) that led to her death. Get up close to the fog that calls these mountains home and you may hear gentle whispers begging you to come even closer. The mountain is so inviting!
Of course, dusk is the favored time to visit if you’re a local. If you make it to the top of the mountain, you’ll see Craggy Maggie’s old shack, left abandoned since she was taken–rather, since she left, in 1692. Rumor has it if you go as the sun sets behind the fog, you’ll see a single candle alight in the window.
It’s not a rumor. I put it there.
Please help me.
Maggie blames me for the sins of the town. She says I will burn.
I cannot leave.
Please come inside, please help, please–
Visit Craggy Maggie! You’ll have a cragtacular time!
Fiction © Copyright Sonora Taylor
Image courtesy of  Pixabay.com

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More from Sonora Taylor:

109145576_574942933170007_3972308087135148283_nSeeing Things

Abby Gillman has discovered that with growing up, there comes a lot of blood. But nothing prepares her for the trail of blood she sees in the hallway after class – or the ghost she finds crammed inside an abandoned locker.

No one believes Abby, of course. She’s only seeing things. As much as Abby wants to be believed, what she wants more is to know why she can suddenly see the dead. Unfortunately, they won’t tell her. In fact, none of them will speak to her. At all.

Abby leaves for her annual summer visit to her uncle’s house with tons of questions. The visit will give her answers the ghosts won’t – but she may not like what she finds out.

Available on Amazon!

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