Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Alex Grey @indigodreamers @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on January 24, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

002_Jan_LOH

Nesta’s Nice Nature Storybook
by Alex Grey

“Look, I’ve bought us a new book – I thought we might read it together.”
 “Reading is boring.”
 “But this is all about a little girl like you. She’s called Nesta and it’s the story of the nature walk she went on with her mummy.”
 “A girl just like me?”
 “Well, Nesta didn’t go wandering in the woods by herself; she went with her mummy and saw lots of interesting things that weren’t creepy at all.”
 “Nature wouldn’t exist without creepy crawlies!”
 “On her walk Nesta greeted all the cute woodland animals. See, there she is saying ‘Hello, Mr Squirrel’ and on the next page she’s saying ‘Hello, Mr Fox’.”
 “That’s stupid, animals can’t talk, they’re scared of little girls.”
 “Well, maybe they’re just scared of you…maybe if you said ‘hello’ nicely instead of throwing stones…”
 “It’s not my fault! They hiss at me when I go past!”
 “O-kay. Shall we see what else Nesta finds in the forest?”
 “I expect there’ll be monsters next.”
 “Honestly, not everything is horrible monsters, this is a nice nature book.”
 “Wanna bet?”
 “Look, here’s the next page, Nesta and her mummy decide to call in on grandma for a glass of milk and some cookies. Hang on, that doesn’t look like a grandma’s cottage.”
 “It looks like a monster’s house.”
 “Don’t be silly.”
 “Monsters have the best houses, I can see them peeking out.”
 “I can’t see any monsters, you’re just making things up. Shall we turn the page and see what sort of cookies Nesta finds?”
 “The cookies will eat her up.”
 “Really, that’s enough! This is a kind book.”
 “Oh yes, it’s my new favourite. That house looks so real I bet we could step right inside.”
 “Hmmm, maybe we should stop reading now, it is late.”
 “No! I want to go there – hold my hand!”
 “Ouch, don’t grab like that!”
“Come on mummy.”
“No, I don’t want to go! Wait!” 
 “There, now we’re in the forest for real.”
“What have you done, you little beast?”
“I told you reading was boring; now we can visit the monsters.”
“Take me back!”
“Oh no mummy, I think we should go in the house – I expect they’ll bake you into excellent cookies. In you go…”
Fiction © Copyright Alex Grey
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More about Alex Grey:

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Michelle Joy Gallagher @Aphelia @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on January 24, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

001_Jan_LOH

Nancy’s Alright
by Michelle Joy Gallagher

The known dark is warm and familiar. It’s in the way the room develops as our eyes adjust when we turn off the lights. We instinctively fold ourselves into it, cradled by its comfort. It is an evolutionary gift that we benefit from that allows us to identify familiar shapes and sense movement. 
 The unknown dark is built out of the darkness in the blink of an eye, the darkness that resides in the closed system of our bodies, our hearts beating out a lifetime in its grasp. It is not so much the absence of light as it is the place behind light. The place we can only intuit and never get true glimpses of. And it is occupied.  
*
It was a new hotel, but the room looked the same as the one she slept in the night before. That was 500 miles ago. Nancy was exhausted. She drew the heavy blackout curtains and threw herself onto the bed face first fully clothed and sighed deeply. She reached out to turn off the bedside lamp but hesitated. She craned her neck around to survey her surroundings one last time. It wasn’t fancy but it didn’t have to be. It was a safe place to sleep and that was all. A TV, a dresser, a sitting table and chair. Olive green, burgundy, relics from fashionable furnishings 10 years ago.  
“Alright.” She told no one. She turned onto her back and stretched to turn off the lamp. 
There was something there. Alive. Looming over her unseen in the unknown dark.  
“Alright.” It mimicked almost mechanically. Mockingly. Inhumanly. She wanted to scream, but this thing that she could feel but not see felt so close she was afraid to. She simply said “please.”  
She began to see the outline of television and dresser, and as they sharpened into focus, that … thing, whatever it was, the feeling of it in front of her started to dissipate, evaporate like rainwater. She sat bolt upright and looked around the room, all the familiar landmarks there. Nothing out of order. She blinked and realized that within each fraction of a second in the darkness behind her eyelids, it was there. She couldn’t escape it.  
*
The cleaning crew came through at 9am. Sara and Carina had already been on the clock for 3 hours and were on autopilot. They knocked at room 207 but got no response. Everything looked untouched. They shrugged at each other and started the regular cleaning. Sara in the bathroom and Carina dusting the furniture. Carina screamed in a way that made Sara’s stomach flip. She bolted from the bathroom and saw Carina knelt beside the far side of the bed. Then she saw the body. It wasn’t unusual for housekeeping crews to find people dead in the rooms they serviced. They had heard horror stories. But it appeared this woman had used the small sewing kit the hotel provided to sew her eyelids open. The stitches had ripped in places, leaving her eyelids a tattered mess of strips of flesh and coagulated blood.  
Fiction © Copyright Michelle Joy Gallagher
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Michelle Joy Gallagher:
cafemacabre
Café Macabre

This collection of twelve stories and artwork by women is truly a collection of the macabre. Make a reservation for terror and get ready to delve into the deepest, darkest fears of some of the best writers and artists in the fiction game. Leah McNaughton Lederman has collected an anthology of the truly strange… a tome of the weird. Take a seat and order a cup, you’re dining at Café Macabre!

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author A.F. Stewart @scribe77 @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on January 23, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

004_Jan_LOHCollision
by A.F. Stewart

Space exploration. Voyage causation. Freefall sensation.
You are a go.
Readings are optimal
The spacewalk begins…
She awakes
Beneath the cosmos,
wrapped in jade, she lingers
daughter of undertow
scion of the screaming
Somewhere ceaselessly
craving against the expanse
Insatiable curiosity. Escape velocity. Looming monstrosity.
Mission on track… wait
There is an anomaly\
Investigation commences…
She sees him.
Drifting within the conscious,
always below the black void
she eternally remains
child of the dissolution
soldier of the irrevocable war
the destroyer waiting
to be discovered…
Fiction © Copyright A.F. Stewart
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
 

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More from A.F. Stewart:

vnVisions 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 Christina Sng @ChristinaSng @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on January 23, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


003_Jan_LOHThe Long Days Before Winter
by Christina Sng

Down to the flailing hands
He falls—a wilting flower
To the autumn ground.

The ravenous cover him
With their puckered flesh,
Hands searching,

Reaching for his warm insides,
His body, a gift—so they may live
Another day, another season.

The light blinds us, high up
On the platform where we hide,
Momma, Christa, Eva, and I.

The rest didn’t make it.
We were betrayed by our own kind,
Abandoned and left to die.

The flames hungrily lick the edges,
Searing flesh below, dead and alive.
The scent is overwhelming.

I peer down at the bloody carnage,
The innards of the corpse flower,
Still, unmoving under the lamplight.

The explosives tied to the traitor
Saved us this time—one monster
To eliminate all monsters.

We climb down cautiously,
Eyes ever watchful of any
Movement from the ravenous.

I meet the traitor’s eye,
Bright now after turning—
Somehow his head survived.

Momma stomps it to pulp
With her steel-toed boot
Till there is nothing dead alive.

We leave this cursed place
And walk into the sunlight,
Spears aloft, ready to fight.

Fiction © Copyright Christina Sng
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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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Sonora Taylor @sonorawrites @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on January 22, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

002_Jan_LOH

A House to Match Her Coat
by Sonora Taylor

Debbie held the tips of her coat in her fingers. It was her favorite, a bright yellow coat with gold snap buttons. She’d worn it every day since she received it for her birthday. She awoke in her coat, took all her meals in it, and wore it to bed. She sweated in it in summer and held it tight to her chest in the winter. She loved its golden color so much that she wished to be forever bathed in yellow.
One day, the longing for a world of yellow made her heart grow sick. She looked at the brown, dirty walls in her bedroom, the grey sky outside her window. She smelled dinner cooking and imagined the dull green of her mother’s stew, brightened only by the grey and orange tip of her mother’s cigarette as she smoked at the table.
Debbie brightened at the thought of the cigarette, then darted to her mother’s room. She stood on tiptoe and brushed her fingers along her mother’s dresser until she felt what she sought: her mother’s box of matches. She ran back to her room, struck a match, and dropped it against the wall.
A small orange flame flickered, then crawled up the side of the wall like a fiery worm. Debbie watched in awe as the wall burned from brown to yellow. She let out a cry of glee, then ran out of the room. One by one, Debbie made each room the same: a golden, flaming yellow where once it had been dull.
She tossed one last match into the kitchen. Her mother swiveled at the sound of Debbie giggling. “What are you–”
Debbie stopped her question by tossing a match onto her mother’s dress. A dull, drab shade of faded periwinkle, not nearly as beautiful as her coat. Her mother screamed and batted at her dress to douse the flame, and in doing so, caught the back of her dress on the flame of the gas burner.
Her mother cried out, and Debbie ran out of the room. She saw the hall and stairs ablaze, the fires she set in the other rooms spreading. She ran outside with a grin on her face, then turned and watched as the house became engulfed in yellow. A house to match her beautiful coat.
Fiction © Copyright Sonora Tayor
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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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

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

Posted on January 22, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

001_Jan_LOH

The Hidden Realm of She
by Naching T. Kassa

She’s following me. I know it. 
She’s wearing that hoodie—the grey one with the bloodstain—and the ragged scarf with the spiderweb stitch. Her jeans are torn, but not for the sake of fashion. She took them off the corpse she feasted on.
I saw her do it. Saw her choke the life out of the male as I passed the alley. Saw her tear the clothes from him and cover her own monstrous form. I watched her break his bones open and suck the marrow from them.
I thought I got away. She couldn’t have seen me. But she must’ve, because she’s in the club, sitting at the table over there, pretending to nurse a gin and tonic. I know it’s her. Her black eyes gleam when she looks at me.
There’s nowhere for me to go. I’ve hopped from one club to another, changing my escorts as I went. Females, their bodies clad in sequins, leaned on me as they staggered across the street. Males, flushed with alcohol and desire, leaned in to steal a kiss. None of them hid me from her gaze.
 I can’t tell them. Even if they believed me, they wouldn’t help. Humans would shriek if they saw my true face. They’d drop dead if they saw hers.
Her beard gives her away. The quivering black fuzz on her chin identifies her as royalty. She is a queen. Here to subjugate, to find others of her kind and force them to her will. I am nothing but a worker, but I fought hard for my freedom. I will never worship a mortal being again. 
She’s watching me now and her limbs are trembling. She wants to sink her mandibles into my skull and brand me as her own. She’s not tapping her foot to the song which blasts over the dancefloor. No, that movement is for me. She thinks I want to come to her, that I want to be enslaved. 
That’s how I’ll defeat her.
Humans find me beautiful, alluring. When I step out on the dancefloor, and the light plays over my glittering dress, they rush out as one to join me. They imitate my dance, following my intricate steps. I borrow the rhythm of the music to answer the queen.
I catch the eye of a brown girl near the door. Her dark eyes follow my dance, and she joins in. A woman, with hair like fire, comes next. She is followed by a woman with jade-green eyes. They approach me, surround me. Protect me.
The queen rises to her feet. She pushes through the throng of humanity. There are four of us now, four lovely slaves. Four to hunt for her, to serve her for eternity. When she is close, we dance away. The four of us make for the back door and hurry through it.
She follows.
When she passes over the threshold, we fall upon her, our attack silent and savage. We tear her limbs from her body and crush them beneath our spiked shoes. White blood flows from her broken exoskeleton as we rend her to pieces. The end comes swiftly.
We stand, panting, above the broken body. Then, one by one, they melt into the night. 
The queen cannot hear the words I speak, but I tell her anyway.
“You can never be my god. I came here to be free.”
Fiction © Copyright Naching T. Kassa
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
 

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More from Naching T. Kassa:

abArterial 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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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 January 21, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

004_Jan_LOHBelow
by Elaine Pascale

At twenty feet below the surface, she became visible. 
Visible in the sense that I could make out a very vague form. 
I knew what I was looking for, so my mind filled in the dark shadow as I slowly continued to descend. 
I had thirty-five minutes of air left. Plenty of time to grab her and resurface. I had lost sight of my partner in the murky water, but bubbles would occasionally mingle with my own, alerting me that I was not alone, that he was most likely behind me, tucked into a blind spot created by my helmet.
We needed to reach her together. Recovery missions carry a terrible physical and mental weight.
At twenty-three feet below I began to tremble. I was far away from the sun’s rays and my neoprene suit did little to protect me from the wintry water. 
I would need to get her and resurface before hyperthermia set in. The bubbles had grown denser: my partner was closing in. I would need his help to lift her onto the boat. 
At twenty-eight feet my diligent flashlight had all the power of a flickering candle. I lost contact with the boat, but the comforting bubbles that played in my peripheral vision reminded me that I was not alone. 
At thirty feet I could see her more distinctly. Based on the time of her disappearance, we knew she would no longer be on the bottom and that she would be slowly making her way to the surface.  I noticed she was fully intact. She looked good. 
For a corpse. 
At thirty-five feet I realized that the bubbles were coming from her. They seemed to hum in the still water. Did gas bubbles do that? I had never seen that before. In the ocean’s depths, there was much that had not been seen before.
At forty feet I reached out for her wrist. I had enough air to ascend slowly and safely. Even through my gloves, I could feel that she was not cold.
In fact, she was hot. Very hot.
At sixty feet, I lay stretched on the bottom of the ocean. I am a mystery for my partner and the boat that had delivered me to the mission. I am food for crabs and small fish. And her. Her bubbles enter my helmet, telling me I will soon grow warm and whole, too.
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 Suzanne Madron @suzannemadron @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on January 21, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

003_Jan_LOH

Helping Hands
by Suzanne Madron

He scowled at the fresco and tilted his head to the side, trying to wrap his head around what he was looking at. Something about the fresco unsettled him, something beyond the odd subject matter that was unlike anything he had ever seen. Hands were the main subject, with no faces or context. The hand closest to the front of the fresco suddenly turned, the fingers reaching as if sensing his presence. Other hands began to shift, the movements groping toward the edge of the fresco as if the hands were independent of the people they should have been attached to. He stepped backward, away from the wall and those detached extremities, and the fresco became still once more.
He tried to convince himself the movement he had seen in the muted colors had been merely a trick of the light and that the reaching hands within had not pushed through into the third dimension. He tried to convince himself they were not trying to grab him and pull him into their flat and long-dead world buried in ruins and ashes.
“I call it ‘Helping Hands’.”
He started and turned. A man in dusty dig gear stared proudly at the fresco and crossed his arms as if he himself had painted the awful scene. After an uncomfortable moment he held a hand out. “I’m John.”
“Steve.” He shook the offered hand. “This will sound crazy, but I swear I saw it move.”
“Trompe l’oeil,” said the dusty man. “It is an excellent example, perhaps the oldest example to date.”
“No. I know trompe l’oeil and this was… different.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I need to get some sleep, maybe. My eyes have been playing tricks on me.”
The man who called himself John smiled and gave a nod of sympathy. “Of course. We’ve been on this dig for what seems like forever.” He moved closer to the wall and ran his fingers over the ancient plaster. Fingers reached out of the fresco and grasped his outstretched hand. “But when you are ready, I believe you will find our friends really are quite helpful.”
Fiction © Copyright Suzanne Madron
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Suzanne Madron:

For Sale or Rent

The house across the street seems to go on the market every few months, but this time nothing about the sale is normal, including the new owners. No sooner has the for sale sign come down and the neighborhood is thrown into a Lovecraftian nightmare and the only way to find out is to attend the house warming party.

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 Kathleen McCluskey @KathleenMcClus4 @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on January 20, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

002_Jan_LOHTommy
by Kathleen McCluskey

Tommy could hear his older brother’s words ringing in his ears, “You’re a coward.” Tommy knew he wasn’t a coward but he also knew that the old house in the woods gave him the feeling of needing to flee. His bright yellow rain slicker weighed heavy on his shoulders. He could feel the skin on his arms, covered in nervous sweat, sticking to the inside. He turned to see if his brother was still there. Hiding in the dappled moonlight of the forest sat his brother smiling. He mouthed the words, “Go on” and gestured towards the decrepit building.
Tommy cautiously walked closer to the house, he could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing at attention. He looked both ways, like he was crossing the street, as he stepped up onto the porch. The floor boards creaked and groaned as he ventured further into the blackness. Lifting his hand he reached for the doorknob. All he had to do was open the door and then his brother would leave him alone. He needed to have his approval. His palms were slick with nervous sweat as he touched the door knob, the door flew open and Tommy was consumed by the gaping doorway as the door slammed shut.
He opened his eyes and found himself on the floor of the dilapidated dwelling. He stood and looked around. He was shocked to see a man sitting in a fine, high back chair. The man put his hand out for Tommy to come in and sit. The man stood, “Hello, young man. You must be Tommy. We have been waiting for you. The master will be pleased that you have finally arrived. We can once again ravage this town as we did in the days of yore.” The man motioned with his hand and Tommy fell fast asleep.
He awoke in the forest. His older brother hovering over him, “Dude, what happened? You were there then you were gone. I searched everywhere for you.” Tommy stood and stretched, a stretch that he felt in every fiber of his ancient being. He knew who he was now, he spoke, “Jimmy, you will be my first.” He lunged for Jimmy and sank his razor sharp teeth into his neck. His true self had emerged as he threw his head back and howled. His brethren will never go hungry again.
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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The Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Marge Simon @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on January 20, 2021 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

001_Jan_LOH
The Wheezer
by Marge Simon

It was almost like he wanted to be caught. The guy was bundled in a heavy parka when we captured him. He’d been going along through the packed snow at a good clip, but once he saw we were coming after him, he slowed down. We could smell him ten feet off, he stank like a dead thing. Thaddeus took a deep breath and held it to tie his wrists. Since it was growing dark, we dragged him back to the cabin we’d been staying in. Better to wait until morning to take him to Saddlerock and claim the reward.  He made a lot of noise, wheezing like a horse with broken wind. Sam flipped back the parka hood, turned pale, and pulled it back up. “Shit! Ain’t no man like I’ve ever seen. This thing’s sick, that’s what’s making the stink. Got some kind of skin disease.” We decided to lock him in the shed overnight. Sam gave him a drink and left him tied up good. Maybe he was poorly, but the reward was too high not to take precautions.
Snow began that night. Thad produced a bottle of whiskey, saying we needed to toast our prisoner. “I propose we call him “Wheezer.” We thought that was pretty funny. We shared a swig or two and turned in. Nobody thought to check the shed one more time. Come morning the snow had stopped and the air was chill and crisp. I went out to relieve myself and froze, right there.  Sam was in the door of the shed, throat torn and drowning in his own blood. Half Thad’s face was gone, partly ripped, partly chewed to the bone. He was wailing, staggering around waving his arms.
“Holy Shit! He’s got loose!” But that was just me, the only ones who could hear me were already beyond caring. Yeah, he was loose, but he sure wasn’t gone. I heard the crunch of snow behind me. Wheezing as bad as ever, he knocked me out and dragged me inside the cabin. When I came to, his hood was thrown back and that stench was all around.  Ugly, stanky sonofabitch. Great open sores festered on his face. He came over and squatted in front of me with a knife. “Goin’ to let you go, man. You tell them folks in Saddlerock I appreciated their hospitality. Tell ‘em I didn’t know it was me causing this here plague or I’d not of stuck around.” I raised an eyebrow and he continued, “Don’t be surprised if some of them stink an’ act like me. Maybe you’ll be e-mune. Now, git before I change my mind.”
On my way there. I got to warn them, but damned if I didn’t catch myself wheezing a bit ago.
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.

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