Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Alyson Faye @AlysonFaye2 @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on March 25, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


004_MAR_LOHThe Spiral Staircase
by Alyson Faye

It had seemed a great idea, novel even, when Jake suggested we visit the ‘Vertigo’-inspired Bell Tower.
‘You know, Lou? The one from that cool Hitchcock movie we watched on TCM last month.’
I’d nodded – vaguely remembering a sad-faced blonde, a cemetery, a tower and amiable all- American Jimmy Stewart acting intense. Really though, in my head, I’d been stressing over work deadlines, my lack of pay rise (again) and why Jake didn’t pay his half of the bloody bills?
Jake wrapped his arm around me, pulling me in for a nicotine-flavoured kiss. ‘When are you goin’ to give up?’ I asked wriggling free, in eel mode.
‘Don’t nag, babe, it’s so ugly,’ Jake snapped, turning to the coach window and staring out at the flat landscape spooling past.
The tiny town of Santa-something came into view, and wrinkled, travel-weary, we disembarked. I was desperate for the loo and a drink.
‘C’mon babe, tour’s starting soon.’ Jake’s voice urged me to join him.
‘Hey, lovely lady, buy a souvenir.’ The old woman’s weathered face cracked like parchment, as she thrust her tray of gee-gaws at me. Jake shouted for me again – I mouthed sorry at her, when, to my surprise, and slight shock, the woman grabbed my arm and thrust a leather thonged necklace into my hand. ‘For you,’ she whispered.
The amulet was an eagle, open winged – of copper or bronze.
‘Cheap tat,’ pronounced my beloved.
‘I like it,’ I said, feeling defensive and tied it around my neck.
At the Bell Tower I gazed upwards, dizzy, and sun-blinded by its height; nauseous by the prospect of all the steps to climb.
Jake shoved and pushed me to the top step, where the board said, ‘Last tour of the day’ and, reluctant, I took his sweaty hand, and began the climb up a torturous twisting spiral staircase. Halfway up I paused, gasping for breath and gazed down, only to wish I hadn’t. A whirling spider’s web of layers and rungs twisted all around me. I was the tiny fly trapped inside its metal heart.
‘I want to go down,’ I told Jake, but he didn’t break his hand grip.
His face was set, his eyes blank and dark. ‘The view will make it all worthwhile,’ he replied.
I was in agony, with a stitch burning my ribs, by the time my wobbly legs made it to the top. There we stood under the brassy umbrella of the giant bell, watching the sun set over the town’s red roofs.
Happy at last to be together I turned to hug Jake, who at the same moment turned and with a face blanker than clean paper, shoved me with both palms open over the rail. I stuttered, grabbed but missed his shirt, toppled backwards and felt – nothing behind me, nothing to hold me – so I began to fall, arms flailing.
I could see Jake’s face staring at me, expressionless and behind him the bell, its giant hood gleaming orange in the sunset.
My hands grabbed at air, at my shirt, at my chest, at the leather thong of the amulet and static energy fizzed through my arms up to my shoulders. It was as though I’d been plugged into a circuit and was firing up. At the same time my fall began to slow, and I began to change.
My arms sprouted rows of feathers, my legs tucked up beneath my body. I could smell the wind and feel its power. I was a part of it now and fear had no place in my heart.
Powerful wings throbbed from my shoulder blades and I rose, swooping over the top of the bell tower towards my lover, towards my murderer.
I landed on the railing, our eyes met. Did he know me? I wondered.
There perching on the rail, talons hooked over it, I devoured him. First I pecked at his eyes, thus blinding him, then spilling his guts with one stroke of my claw, before scooping out his dark, twisted heart.
I ate my fill of him and it was a fine meal, a feast.
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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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

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

Posted on March 25, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

003_MAR_LOHGramma’s Parlor
by Terrie Leigh Relf

I don’t recall how long I’d lived alone in Gramma’s old house when I first began to notice items weren’t in their place. First it was a cup and saucer I left in the living room that reappeared in the kitchen drainer. Then, it was a book of T.S. Eliot poems on my nightstand when I’d been reading Proust for weeks on end. After several more incidences, I just chalked it up to a combination of sleep deprivation and my imagination. 
One night, when I went into the study to write in my journal, the writing desk’s lampshade was a bit wobbly. Fortunately, all it needed was a screw, so I replaced it with an old one from Gramma’s kitchen junk drawer. The next morning, however, it was tilted again. Odd. The screw had apparently come out, and was resting on the desk blotter. With a sigh, I replaced it again, tightening it a bit more than required.
During the day, I busied myself with a bit of cleaning, along with a trip to town for groceries. That evening, when I sat down at the desk to read a collection of Henry James’ short stories, the book opened to “The Turning of the Screw.” Another odd coincidence.
An evening or two later when I reached to turn off the lamp, the screw was removed right before my eyes. 
“Gramma, is that you?” I called out, longing for a reply. While the business with the screw was a bit unnerving, if Gramma really were to visit me in spirit, I expected a more meaningful sort of sign. I just left the shade as it was. 
The next morning when I went into the study to look for my glasses, the lampshade was perfectly centered on the lamp. That was it . . . 
 “Gramma?” I whispered, as chills ran up and down my spine.
It took you a while, lovey, she replied in my mind as her smiling face and elegant form coalesced before me.
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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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Kathleen McCluskey @KathleenMcClus4 @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on March 24, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

002_MAR_LOHJohn
by Kathleen McCluskey

John awoke on the battlefield in a daze, the right side of his body and face took the brunt of the explosion. He struggled to sit up as his right arm had been severely injured. He looked down at his hand and it was covered in sand and blood. The camo on his arm was dried and suctioned onto his skin. He flexed his fingers and made a fist, over and over he did this and his arm seemed to be functioning. He looked across the barren battlefield, dust swirled in playful funnel clouds as it made intricate patterns on the desert floor. His depth perception had been compromised and he knew that his right eye had been damaged in the latest incursion.
He stood and shook the sand off of himself. His legs seemed to be unharmed in the fierce fighting. He began the search for the rest of his men. Where had they gone? There were no corpses, no signs of life as he scanned the never ending red carpet of the desert. He thought to himself, “Those bastards have taken the dead. God only knows what they are doing with them.” Trying to search his memory of where his men may be he realized that the head injury impaired his ability to remember.
Walking along the barren highway he could see in the distance a bombed out restaurant. He began to jog towards the shelter. Aiming his rifle into the building he inspected the interior. He needed shelter and needed to attend to his wounds. He slowly crept into the building. Finding the bathroom he looked into the mirror. He stepped back, aghast, as he did not recognize the reflection. He shook his head, he ripped off his shirt and his arm came off with it. There was no pain only a leaking of red fluid from the jagged stump, the smell of hydraulic fluid permeated the air. He pulled at the corner of his right eye and the skin on his face peeled off revealing a metal skeleton. Not believing what he was seeing he slumped to the floor.
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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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

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

Posted on March 24, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

001_MAR_LOHPareidolia
by Alina Măciucă

“What’s that behind uncle Florian’s head? That red spot there, to the right.” She sat in the Deco chair with her feet tucked under her body and a Mai Tai in her left hand.
“It’s been ages since someone last used this thing. These slides could be damaged.” He opened a bag of lentil chips and stuck five of them in his mouth. 
“You’re ruining my family moment with all that munching.” 
The projector displayed the next slide with a clicking sound. She took another sip of her drink and he folded the bag of chips away.
Uncle Florian wore an unbuttoned shirt and a pair of blue shorts. His nipples pointed to his socks, he sat with his varicose legs crossed. Unflattering. 
“Think that’s mold or something? You can barely see his face in this one.”
“I snatched all these from your folks’ attic.”
Click. Uncle Florian had cake on his face and grinned for the camera. The smallest of the three preschoolers put her tongue out at the photograph.
“That’s me, right there,” she said. “One, two, three, four, who does that face belong to?”
“What face, dear?” 
“Oh, come on. There’s a second face between Florian’s head and the cabinets.”
“I thought we agreed that’s just dirt.”
“Sure. Scornful dirt. Can’t you see the way it’s looking at me?”
The slide projector switched to the next photo. Uncle Florian held his hands in the air and the kids did the Macarena. 
“If you don’t see that huge head biting at my face, then you really need a new pair of glasses.”
“Calm down, sweetie. There’s no head. It’s like when you’re a kid and you look at the sky and see giraffes in the clouds.”
She put her leather slippers back on, hunched over the projector and reached for one of the slides inside. It stopped buzzing and the room went dark. 
“Do something, my fingers are stuck.” 
“You can’t stick your fingers in a slide projector, sweetie. It’s impossible.”
“Move it, it hurts.” Her arm slided in, her shoulder was next. Her head followed, then the rest of her body. 
He shoved a handful of lentil chips in his mouth and gulped down the Mai Tai. At least, now they both knew where that head came from.
Fiction © Copyright Alina Măciucă
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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

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

Posted on March 23, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

004_MAR_LOHWatch This
by Elaine Pascale

“Remember this?” He pulled the album from the box and held it up for them both to see. “The 80s were so weird.”
“That was the first one with a ‘Tipper Sticker’,” she tried to remember what had been so offensive about it. But offensive was as bound to time and place as any other concept.
He lowered his voice, “Playing it backward would make a demon appear.”
She laughed. “Right.”
“Seriously. That is what happened to them. To the band.”
She rolled her eyes. “They died because their cocaine was poisoned with strychnine or something.”
“Where do you get your information? They were torn apart, long slashes on each of their bodies. Strychnine doesn’t do that.”
He dug in his pocket for some money while she typed into her phone. She turned the screen toward him. “Google says ‘poison’.”
“You really think they would publish stories about honest-to-God demons?”
She laughed again. It wasn’t that he was overly funny, she just laughed a lot. “There is nothing honest about it.”
“I am getting it.”
“We don’t have a record player.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s a relic. When archeologists uncover our apartment from beneath the meteorite that will crush us, I want them to find this psychedelic cover.”
By the time they got home, he had turned the album over and over in his hands dozens of times. Each time he had a new idea about the Escher-meets-arachnid architecture. “That would be what a demon’s lair looks like, right?”
“I guess.” She tilted her head. “Looks like a demented fan with warped blades.”
He nodded appreciatively. “That might be what got to the band: warped blades.”
She laughed and began to make lunch as he pulled the vinyl from the cover.
“Watch this.” He spun the record clockwise on his finger while humming the theme song of the Harlem Globe Trotters.
She laughed again. 
He began to spin it counterclockwise. Then he put his fingernail into a grove. “Bet I can make it play if I spin fast enough.”
High decibel screeching came from the album.
“If that doesn’t call a demon, I don’t know what would.” It was his turn to laugh.
But she had stopped laughing. Her glowing, red eyes were focused on the knife she had been using to saw through the hardened loaf of bread. Her hands felt far away and as if someone else were now in control of them. A part of her was at war to keep the knife on the bread. 
As the album continued to shriek, she lost the battle.
Fiction © Copyright Elaine Pascale
Image courtesy of  Pixabay.com

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More from Elaine Pascale:

The Blood Lights

They victimize all…

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

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

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

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

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

Posted on March 23, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

003_MAR_LOH
The Book Club
by Marge Simon

The ice has melted on the walk, green blossoms emerge on stark branches; winter’s turn is done. It is the second Wednesday of the month, the Book Club meeting is at hand. At the door, a gray cat waits, tail curled around his paws.
By twos and threes they arrive. They all so love these gatherings. A stack of books awaits discussion. On a shelf, the shiny silver coffee pot, with cups and cream. They help themselves.
The worn carpet is stained from Solstice rituals. Blood on blue turns garnet over time, but no one seems to mind. It enhances the nostalgia.
The tabby weaves in and out between trouser legs and skirts, rests on laps for strokes by bone-thin hands. Today it is Mary Shelley’s best seller. They love to debate the technicalities. Tim Watkins insists she couldn’t have written it without a man’s help. Several ladies laugh him down. Next month, we must invite the author, wouldn’t that be fun?”, says Tilly Oster. She sits, pleased that all agree.
When the old Grandfather Clock strikes five, they celebrate the newly dead — Old Hiram with dimpled cheeks laid to rest with his black-haired bride, and sweet Jezebel, who’d fed the ravens during winter. Given time, they might attend.
The moon begins its tour across the early evening skies, it’s time to leave. Beyond the porch, the members fade into the night. The room is darkly barren, save for the silken tabby, purring softly on a parlor chair.
Fiction © Copyright Marge Simon
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Marge Simon:

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The Demeter Diaries
by Marge Simon and‎ Bryan D. Dietrich

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

Available on Amazon!

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

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

Posted on March 22, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

002_MAR_LOH

Call the Rider
by Naching T. Kassa

They called me witch.
As I stare down the highway into the azure eye of eternity, my mind on my past, present, and future, I remember that word and their mistake. I remember how they brought Death into their village and their midst.
Once, I was a Woman of the Wood and a Bride of Death. My bridegroom honored me and I him. If the town had left me to my own devices, nothing would’ve happened.
But they could not leave me be. The world was not ready for me. 
They were not ready for the comfort I gave girls who birthed their babies, not ready for the remedies I gave the sick. They caught me, brought me before those who could not judge me, and dressed me in red to match the flames. When they led me out into the square, tied me to the stake, and lit the pyre, I told them Death would come.
He sent the Riders for me.
The dragon and his rider arrived first, shrouded in invisibility to all but me. They flew on silent wings over the street, filling the air with contagion. People collapsed, cut down like wheat in their wake. 
My father cut my bonds and lead me from the fire. I grasped hold of his hand and that of my sister’s. I pulled them down the thoroughfare as the shadow passed over. It blotted out the sky but remained unseen to my family.
I glanced up into the dragon’s eye, which shone like a black sun. The absence of light pulled at my very soul. I ran.
Too late.
My father fell first, leaning against the door of the house, choking and clawing at the air. My sister, Sarah, dropped to the cobblestone.
I ran on. The shadow flew behind me, and when I glanced back, I realized the dragon had turned down the corner. I halted to catch my breath.
An hour passed before I returned to where my sister and father. He stared at the sky as I passed, his gaze on the eye of eternity.
Sarah coughed She stared at me with red-rimmed eyes.
Laughter sounded from a nearby alley and I glimpsed a tall man, clad in shining armor. The scent of blood and smoke surrounded him. A slim man wearing a tattered robe walked at his side. His skin, parchment-thin, stretched over his bones. Neither saw me as they vanished into the night.
My sister tugged at my skirt and I knelt beside her.
“Why?” she whispered.
“They burned and drowned the innocent,” I replied. “They murdered the rat-catchers and the women who birthed the babes. The Riders knocked on the door for years. They finally allowed them in.”
Shadows crept along the cobbled stone as night robbed sunlight from an unforgiving sky. Those left alive whimpered and moaned. Each cry pierced my heart.
Footsteps echoed.
A figure stood silhouetted at the end of the avenue. His sickly stench of decay wafted over me and the air grew frigid as he drew near.
I hadn’t asked for the others. I had only asked for him. I didn’t want War, Plague, or Famine. The sick fell silent as the Rider passed and his bones rattled. He turned a face devoid of all emotion upon me and like a juggernaut, strode forward. The dead littered the street behind him.
I covered Sarah’s body with my own. This had never been part of the bargain. He should’ve taken the wicked, not the innocent. 
“Not my sister!” I cried. “Take me instead.”
My bridegroom paused when he reached me, and his hollow, inhuman voice grated upon my ear.
“I cannot, my love.”
“Why? There’s nothing special about me.”
“Dearest…You are the host.”
He reached down. I tried to block his skeletal hand but failed.
Sarah’s breath became a ragged gasp, a rattle in her throat. Seconds passed, and she was gone.
He vanished with her.
I stood alone as the sun rose, staring into the eye of eternity.
There are many things worse than death.
Bringing him to those you love is one of them.
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 A.F. Stewart @scribe77 @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on March 22, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

001_MAR_LOHThe Grand Royale
by A.F. Stewart

In its day, the Royale Theater bustled in cinematic decadence and vivid Art Deco style. Gold, black, and crimson glittered in invitation, beckoning to a new world of plush velvet and flickering images. Once, all the great classics lit up the screen, dazzling living silhouettes breathing in the dark; the stage for stars like Valentino, Garbo, and Fairbanks. For the theatre’s patrons, it was an escape, a chance to throw away the drudgery and live a dream.
But dreams sometimes die. Sometimes they burn in fury and flames, in screams and agony, leaving frenzied, whispering echoes behind.
And every now and then, those ruined dreams linger.
Scorched and hollow, the Royale still stands, its glamour covered in grime and ages-old soot. Footsteps quicken as they pass, foreboding and the reverberation of wails swirling in their wake. Charred faces, long dead, press against shattered windows, and the choking fumes of smoke drift in the wind. Pass the Royale if you must, but never go in.
Those that enter now, never come out…
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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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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

Posted on March 21, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

004_MAR_LOHThe Descent
by Ela Lourenco

It all started the first time my sister locked me in the basement. I was only five and terrified of the darkness and shadows. I remember snuggling up in a dusty corner, rocking myself in consolation, eyes glued shut as though to will my fear away. She left me there for hours the first time and I knew better than to tell my mother.
I don’t remember when I first noticed the small trap door, but the hope I felt that this was surely a way out into the world is etched in my mind as though it were yesterday. I pulled it open with my little hands and climbed down the ladder, hoping to find a way out of the house. The further I got down the wider the tunnel got, until I reached a platform where a myriad of ladders zigged and zagged in all different directions. I tried one, then another, yet they all seemed to go further into the bowels of the Earth.
Oddly unafraid, I continued my descent. It seemed less dark and warmer the further I went, and this spurred me on. At last, I arrived at the bottom. A beautiful lady with flowing black hair smiled at me in welcome and bade me to follow her. She led me into a chamber of dark red lights, creatures I had never seen before bustling around.
“I have been waiting for you daughter of Lilith,” the lady said softly, “there is much I must teach you.”
I took her hand and followed where she led. I was no longer afraid…
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 Michelle Joy Gallagher @Aphelia @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on March 21, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

003_MAR_LOH

The Mistake
by Michelle Joy Gallagher

How long had she been sitting there with infinity in her hands? How long had the warm glow from the lamp spilled upon the ancient pages? Lacie was tied there with the books like Sisyphus to his stone. She was resentful of her burden but found hidden joys in it. She caressed the words that lined the top of the first page of the new volume lovingly. She mouthed them slowly, afraid to make much sound, knowing that last time she paid dearly.  
“What on earth wore misery better than a human being?”  
The side of her mouth curled into a sad smile.  
She thought about how sad they’d been, how much they’d suffered in the epochs that unraveled after what her jailers had simply labeled “The Mistake.”  
Here outside of time, she was paying penance for the small part she had in it, which was almost nothing at all.  
She’d borne witness sure, but so had others. And The Tamer was the one truly at fault. Had he only been a second sooner, gravity might not had won.  
Lacie thought gravity always won. The odds were stacked.  
She’d poured over thousands of volumes, absorbing all she read and experiencing it as she did. 
Every life ever lived. Every death. Every single event set into motion from the moment they’d seen the coalesce turn into collapse and then explosion.  
How many untold volumes did she have left? She was unsure, but they would uphold the sentence and would not allow her to expire before it was seen through.  
The Overseers did not know a lot about the emotions of living beings, how taxing they could be. How horrifying.  
“Joy.” She thought. “They don’t know about joy.”  
And they didn’t. Or how it was sweet and warm.  
She turned the page.  
“Its worth it for joy.” 
Fiction © Copyright Michelle Joy Gallagher
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Michelle Joy Gallagher:
blkhwkBlackhawk: Volume 2

Welcome to Blackhawk, Colorado. Blackhawk has always been strange. Natural disasters. Disappearances. Murders. High strangeness is a part of daily life. We can’t hope to explain it, but we can chronicle its past. Learn from it. Fear it. Blackhawk is an experimental fiction series set in a shared universe, written by a variety of talented authors. It is the brainchild of David M Brown (Plague Doctor, Modern Animals) and Carl D Smith (Moleb the Giant, Darkness Out of Carthage). Each story will contribute to an organic, evolving mythology as diverse as the voices behind its tales. For fans of True Detective, Lost Highway, Twilight Zone, and The Terror. This is Volume Two of the series and contains five stories by five different authors, each in tune with the specific strangeness Blackhawk has to offer. NOTE: For fans of Lake Lord Publishing’s prior horror titles, be warned that Blackhawk will contain content that is perhaps more disturbing and mature.

Available on Amazon!

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