The Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Suzanne Madron @suzannemadron @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on November 21, 2020 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Door to Nowhere
by Suzanne Madron

The door led to nowhere. It was exactly thirteen feet from the ground and as far back as anyone could remember, it had always opened onto nothing. Not that anyone from the village had ever see it open at all.
The occupants of the building claimed there was a wall where the door should be located and not even a floor or staircase level with where the opening would be on the outside of the building. As far as they could tell, the door must not have been used for hundreds of years. And life went on, with the curiosity of the village’s inhabitants unsatisfied, though some of the villagers attempted to open the door through use of ladders and liquor-coated bravado.
The day the door opened was the day the villagers wished they had never spoken of it, never passed the rumors and stories on, never objected to the application of the building’s owners to wall up the door on the outside of the building, and never laughed at the suggestion of the group of drunk men with their ladder who claimed they would open the door.
It was too late for any of that, now. Too late to go back and erase the portal, too late to forget the stories, too late to stop the drunkards with their tools and ladder, and far too late to close that gaping black space in the wall of the building. Too late to stop the strange and long-legged creatures as they emerged from the shadows of the open door.
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 , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

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

Posted on November 20, 2020 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Nov_Image02

The Summoning
by Naching T. Kassa

Nalin Kratides woke in darkness. A chill, as cold as the dead, pervaded the room. She blinked against the black. What had woken her?
Dim ambient light from the streetlamp outside revealed the figure of Detective John Warren lying on her right side. He snored softly. Was it he who’d cried out in his sleep? Had he dreamed of his murdered mother again? 
“Nalin,” a voice whispered near her ear. 
Nalin glanced to the left. A long tunnel materialized before her. At the end of it, a candle flared to life. The skull came next. Long, thin horns rose from the bleached skull of the ibex. Blank eyes stared. As suddenly as they appeared, they vanished.
“Who’s there?” Nalin asked.
“Call me, Celia,” the voice replied.
“How can I help you?”
“He didn’t murder me.”
“Who didn’t murder you?”
“Come, and I will tell all.”
The sheets rustled as Nalin rose from the bed. A hand grasped the bare skin of her arm and she turned.
“What’s going on?” Warren asked.
“Spirit talk. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Be careful.”
She leaned forward and kissed his lips. “Always.”
She rose and stepped into the tunnel. Three steps took her to a small apartment with a skyline view of New York. The place looked as though a tornado had touched down in the living room. Broken glass littered the hardwood floor, the furniture had been turned over, blood stained the white sofa. Celia stood beside it. Her pale skin and golden hair gleamed in the light of dawn. She gazed at Nalin with sad, blue eyes.
“He didn’t do it,” she said.
“Who?”
“The young man they arrested. I don’t know his name.” 
“If he didn’t, who did?”
“A policeman. He followed me home. Said he needed to question me about the robbery at the gallery where I work. He came in and when I turned, he attacked me. We struggled. He stabbed me here—on the couch.”
“Are you sure it was a policeman?”
“He showed me his badge when he met me at the door.”
Nalin crossed to the couch and peered at the stain which marred the cushions. It seemed strange, lighter than most. “Then…you know his name.”
“Yes. He was a detective. His name is John Warren.”
Nalin looked up into Celia’s eyes. They glowed ghostly. “You’re sure? What did he look like?”
“Handsome. Green eyes. Brown hair. He has a scar. It runs through his eyebrow on the left side.”
“Is he right or left-handed?”
“I’m not sure. Left, I think. Yes, left. He held the knife in his left hand.”
Nalin had circled the living room while they spoke. She halted when she reached a small end table on the other side of the sofa. She stared at the empty surface. 
“How did you find me, Celia?”
“I asked for help. The tunnel appeared and showed me you.”
“You didn’t see Warren through the tunnel? It didn’t show him to you?”
“No. Just you.”
“Am I right or left-handed, Celia?”
“What?”
“Something I’ve noticed about the tunnel. It shows the world through a mirror. Things which are right-handed appear left, and so on. I’ve gotten used to it. I don’t think you have.”
“What? What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”
“You saw Warren in my bedroom. The scar is on his right side, not his left.”
“No, you have to believe me. He killed me.”
“If you’re dead, I’m Abraham Lincoln.”
The melancholy drained from Celia’s eyes. They grew hard and cold as flint.
“Damn. You’re smarter than I thought.”
“And you’re arrogant, like all of demonkind. Which one are you?”
“Tut, tut. Giving a name gives control. I won’t make that mistake. How did you know I’m a demon?”
“You have thin blood. A little too light to be mortal. Also, you summoned the tunnel using a candle and an ibex skull.”
“Double damn. You saw that?”
“Clear as day.”
“Then why did you come?”
“To see what you’re up to. Wasn’t nice to bring Warren into it.”
The demon smiled. “He’s your Achilles Heel, isn’t he? Your kryptonite. How long would you last if I snuffed his life?”
“I think you’d die first.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No. A promise.”
Nalin reached out. The ibex skull appeared in her hand as she snatched it off the empty end table. She lunged forward.
The demon shrieked as the horn penetrated her chest. She fell to the floor and the world dissolved.
When Nalin opened her eyes, she found herself in her own room. Warren stood half-dressed beside her.
“You alright?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”
“It’s not my blood.”
“What the hell happened?”
“It was a demon—”
“A demon! Why didn’t you call me?”
“It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I stabbed her with an ibex horn.”
Warren’s eyes widened. “She must’ve been a nasty one.”
“What she said was nasty.”
“What did she say?”
“She insulted my kryptonite.”
“Huh?”
“Nevermind.” She moved close and kissed his lips. “Let’s take a shower.”
Warren grinned. “Damn.”
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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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Ela Lourenco @ElaLourenco @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on November 20, 2020 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Nov_Image01The Other Me…
by Ela Lourenco

At night I can finally shed my aura
Finally, free to throw off the happy, kind ‘me’
And head past the elegant homey décor
Down to the basement.
Down into the bowels of my house and my soul
Where everything is in abject contrast to my ‘life’ upstairs
Here is my place, this is my time…
Through the opaque window in the darkest recess
Lives the other me
The one who was before I tricked her
And swapped realms
It is better than anything on TV
Getting to watch her screams as she tries to survive my world
Shame none of her friends or family will ever know…
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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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Sheikha A. @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on November 6, 2020 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Oct_Image04Pluto in Scorpio
by Sheikha A.

They called her Pluto;
she was Persephone
holding love like thunder
in the sway of her hips.
She fell like purple flames
from the sky into the womb
of fire; death lit her body
in green spears of life.
She exploded as meteorite
landing in the arms of Hades
like destruction – nurturing –
clear quartz of seduction.
She walked rings of death,
footprints sparking embers
in the earth of ice – sheer
as cold pearls snatched
from their oysters’ mouths.
She burned in love
like a spiritless shroud,
black as moonless nights,
her skin shimmered blue
against stars defying her
beauty; streams of occult-
laden potions coarsed
her face; webs of veins
masqueraded her skin,
she knew these flames
bodies walked through for her,
starving for seeds – carnelian
delicacy like rare harem virgins.
Spring loomed, bare posterior
fragile like mysteries, blooms
unfurled. Flower of summer
quivered in her hands;
she pulled its neck
out of the resisting soil
and watched earth chasm.
The sky was cast like glaciers –
there were scores to settle.
Fiction © Copyright Sheikha A.
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Sheikha A.:

Screen Shot 2019-12-17 at 10.57.17 AM.pngNyctophiliac Confessions:
Poems by Sheikha A. and Suvojit Banerjee

“The night is cold enough to inspire poetry,” says Sheikha A. in her poem, “Reading My Bones.” This is the basis of Nyctophiliac Confessions – poems that are introspective and luminal, poems that require a certain amount of silence and space to be fully formed and appreciated. Reading these poems, I imagined that they were the kind of poems that assert themselves unbidden during a bout of insomnia. (A nyctophiliac being someone who loves the night or loves darkness).

Nyctophiliac Confessions is the 17th installment of Praxis’ chapbook series and contains twenty-six poems written by two poets, Sheikha A. and Suvojit Banerjee, interspersed with abstract paintings by Robert Rhodes.

Available Here!

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

Posted on November 2, 2020 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Oct_Image02The Apartment Next Door
by Asena Lourenco

The wooden door slammed in the face of the cold breeze, keeping out its unwelcome guest. He kicked his black boots off lackadaisically as leaves of all shades scattered across the floor, letting out a sigh of exhaustion as he walked to the skinny armchair. He planted his ankles on the small glass table in the centre of the room as he reached for the television remote. His growing dark pupils stared past a curtain of hair. A strangled scream sounded from behind the white pillars on the right. His chocolates coloured eyes darted to face the sound but were only greeted with the dark night. With a shiver, he lifted his feet and stumbled over to the pillars, lamp in hand. A single dress floated in the night, awaiting his arrival. A few moments later, a beautiful woman with jet-black hair emerged from the dress, her face not in sight…
 The camera footage is still played over and over again by puzzled police officers in an attempt to solve this mystery but no one can figure it out. Some neighbours say that they can still hear his unfinished scream from the apartment, next door.
Fiction © Copyright Asena Lourenco
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More about Asena Lourenco:

Asena Lourenco is 13 years old. She loves reading, playing Scottish traditional fiddle music on her violin, dancing, and martial arts as well as writing her own stories.

She would like to be a teacher and writer when she grows up. She also loves cats and babies!

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Kim Richards @Kim_Richards @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on November 2, 2020 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Oct_Image03Smokin’ Jack
by Kim Richards

Another damned wildfire skirted across a California hillside. Dry grass, long dead from triple digit daytime temperatures and lack of rain, fueled its hunger. Winds whipped it into a blow torch of howling frenzy. That was at 3:30 a.m. The sun rose behind a wall of smoke which gave it an eerie, brilliant red glow. Ash flitted and swirled down like snowflakes.
Five members of a fire crew from Australia stomped along the charred remains of a farm. They were part of a team who answered the call for help on another fire just last week. This morning, their goal was to put out spot fires as they cropped up and disperse embers still glowing. The unspoken part of their job was to locate remains of the unlucky as they went along. They found plenty so far but nothing of the human variety…yet. They each knew, with the speed this Jack Fire sparked and grew in a few pre-dawn hours, there was a high probability someone didn’t evacuate in time.
“Well, look at this,” the tall red head called out. He pointed with the tip of his long fire hook. Although his gear muffled the sound, his voice came clear enough over the eerily quiet atmosphere.
The others joined him to gather near a pile of blackened logs.
“Huh,” said the heavy-set firefighter as he leaned on the handle of his heavy rake. “Do you suppose that’s why this is called the Jack Fire?”
All five men chuckled. They stared at a bright orange carved pumpkin, perched atop the burnt wooden remains of a front porch. The Jack-O-Lantern was unscathed by the fire. White smoke billowed from inside—escaping through its eye holes and between its jagged teeth. It grinned at them. “If it wasn’t before, it is now.” The youngest of them said. “Funny how a fire shows mercy to the strangest things.”
The Jack-O-Lantern coughed, sending a small plume of smoke skyward.
Each man looked to the others for confirmation. None of them were willing to be ‘that guy’.
Red head pursed his lips and poked at the ground with his hook.
Rake man turned aside. “I need water,” he said.
When the Jack-O-Lantern coughed again, the young one’s eyes bugged. “It’s…it’s laughing.”
All five firefighters backed up and faced the thing with their tools in hand. Then they all spoke at once.
“Damn smoke inhalation.”
“Only in America.”
“Something more toxic than usual burned.”
“I need a beer…no, whiskey.”
“It’s…it’s a DEMON!” The young firefighter screamed as the pumpkin’s surface rippled.
“Damn straight I am!” The smoking Jack-O-Lantern launched itself at the young man. It hit him in the head with a thud and sent him sprawling to the ground. Its smiling mouth widened and swallowed the man’s head.
Instantly the young man’s screams turned to high pitched shrieks. His body thrashed wildly upon the soot covered ground. The smoke spewing from the thing’s eye holes thickened.
The other men struck the pumpkin with their heavy rakes and fire hooks or kicked it with their boots. Every single hit bounced off as if it landed against a rubber surface.
“Oh, my God,” the red head exclaimed. From inside the Jack-O-Lantern’s eyes a bright flame erupted. Within seconds, it traveled the length of the man’s body and turned him into a flaming log. He stopped moving. There was no mercy this time. His body was momentarily consumed, leaving a grinning Jack-O-Lantern amidst his remains.
The other four men didn’t stick around to see more. They fled down the hillside, leaving their implements behind. When questioned later about what happened. The only one who spoke was the tall red head who said, “It was Smokin’ Jack.”
Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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

Posted on November 1, 2020 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Oct_Image03Every Day is Halloween Now
by Sheri White

Sam carved another pumpkin, then lit it up.
Just like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that…
Another day in his life, in a world where Halloween never ended. He was Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, except nobody else inhabited this world with Sam.
It took him a while to accept what was happening.
The first Halloween night was completely normal. He took his twin boys trick-or-treating while his wife Amanda handed out candy. He greeted other parents walking the neighborhood with his kids, admired costumes, and enjoyed scary decorations in the crisp October air.
When he woke up the next morning, Amanda was not beside him. He got dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen to get coffee, but she wasn’t there either.
Figuring she was helping the boys get dressed, Sam headed back upstairs. But their bedroom was empty.
“Amanda?” Sam called. “Are you home?”
He waited a few seconds for an answer, then went to the garage. He started the car and turned on the radio to check the news. Static crackled through the speakers, no matter what station he chose.
He drove around town, looking for his family, checking places they could be. Maybe they went out to breakfast? He looked at iHop and Denny’s, but he didn’t see her car.
As he cruised around the town, Sam’s hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
My god, where is everyone?
He pulled into the Target shopping center, encouraged by other cars parked throughout the lot. He jogged up to the Target, tapping one of the red concrete spheres for luck as he always did. The automatic doors didn’t open. He banged on the window.
“Hey! Hello? Is anybody in there?” He leaned against the window and cupped his hands around his eyes. Although the electricity was on, he didn’t see anybody walking around.
“Please! Anyone!”
He slapped the window then ran to the other stores in the shopping center, screaming for someone to answer him.
Finally, Sam dropped to his knees on the sidewalk in front of Old Navy, slapping the ground and crying.
***
Now Sam spends his days carving pumpkins and eating chocolate, hoping that next time he wakes up he will have his life and family back.
Fiction © Copyright Sheri White
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Author Sheri White:

sw`Don’t Turn Out the Lights: A Tribute to Alvin Schwartz’s Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark

Featuring stories from R.L. Stine and Madeleine Roux, this middle grade horror anthology, curated by New York Times bestselling author and master of macabre Jonathan Maberry, is a chilling tribute to Alvin Schwartz’s Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark.

Flesh-hungry ogres? Brains full of spiders? Haunted houses you can’t escape? This collection of 35 terrifying stories from the Horror Writers Association has it all, including ghastly illustrations from Iris Compiet that will absolutely chill readers to the bone.

So turn off your lamps, click on your flashlights, and prepare—if you dare—to be utterly spooked!

The complete list of writers: Linda D. Addison, Courtney Alameda, Jonathan Auxier, Gary A. Braunbeck, Z Brewer, Aric Cushing, John Dixon, Tananarive Due, Jamie Ford, Kami Garcia, Christopher Golden, Tonya Hurley, Catherine Jordan, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Alethea Kontis, N.R. Lambert, Laurent Linn, Amy Lukavics, Barry Lyga, D.J. MacHale, Josh Malerman, James A. Moore, Michael Northrop, Micol Ostow, Joanna Parypinksi, Brendan Reichs, Madeleine Roux, R.L. Stine, Margaret Stohl, Gaby Triana, Luis Alberto Urrea, Rosario Urrea, Kim Ventrella, Sheri White, T.J. Wooldridge, Brenna Yovanoff

Available on Amazon!

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author C.A. Verstraete @caverstraete @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on November 1, 2020 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Oct_Image01The Old Deserted House
by C.A. Verstraete

“The Granger house is haunted, you know.”
I stared at my best friend, Lee, and wondered where she got her information.
“I never heard that. Says who?”
She shook her head. “Gina, where’ve you been? Everyone knows that.”
“Huh, well I didn’t. So how haunted are we talking? Ghosts? Goblins? Eerie screams?”
“Any, all of them. It changes, I’ve heard. You have to go there yourself and find out.”
“So, have you gone?”
She gave a sheepish grin. “Um, well, no. I didn’t want to go alone.”
“You’re chicken, but you think I should go.”
“No, I want us to go together. The rest of the group are going soon. We can go next weekend.”
“Lee, you’re taking it for granted, aren’t you?”
“Oh, c’mon, Gina. I know you. This kind of stuff is your thing. What do you say?”
What I said was goodbye, until next weekend, that is.
On Friday I found myself standing in front of this old abandoned stone house, flashlight in hand, wondering if I should’ve said no. Lee smiled and jerked her head at the opening in the rotted door.
“Ready?”
I gulped. “It’s your idea. You go first.”
We slipped in through the opening, finding ourselves in a cobweb-filled front hall with sheet-covered furnishings. The flashlight shone dimly through the heavy webbing, making it hard to see every corner of the room.
Lee shuffled forward, pushing the webs aside, motioning me to follow. “Some of the kids said there are a bunch of dolls and toys in one of the bedrooms. It’s pretty creepy.”
“And of course, you want to see them,” I muttered. “Lead on.”
We went down the hall, our footsteps muffled by layers of dust. The door to the first room stood open, our lights shining over shelves filled with old books.
We moved on. At least nothing had leapt out at us… yet. Still, I tried not to stay too far back from my friend.
The door to the next room opened with a squeak.
“This is it, the toy room,” she said.
I followed her in and shone the flashlight around, my fears easing. After all, who didn’t like toys? Piles of blocks covered a table. Boxes of games filled shelf after shelf.
“Wow, this stuff is really old,” I said, looking over the box covers. “I never heard of some of these games.”
“Me, neither. Oh, look! There’s a bunch of stuffed animals and dolls over here.” She went to the other side of the room. “These look like Steiff bears. I bet they’re worth a lot of money.” She gazed at me before turning back to the shelf.  “We should take a couple. I bet we could sell them.”
She took one down and blew the dust off the fur.
I tried to hold back my sneeze and failed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Who’ll miss them?”
A scratching sound drew my attention. “Hey, what’s—”
“C’mon,” she said. “Take one and let’s go.”
The scratching grew louder.
“Lee… what’s that sound?”
She ignored me and reached for one of the other dusty bears. “This one’s mine.”
We both jumped when something hit the floor behind us.
“What was that?” Lee asked, turning her flashlight toward the door. “Shine your light over there.”
I hesitated when something scraped the floor again.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said. “One of the games fell off the shelf. Ready?”
I hesitated, wondering how something could fall off the shelf by itself. Then another box hit the floor with a thump. Wood game pieces scattered across the wood floor like old coins.
I jumped when Lee began to scream. “Noooooo!”
The flashlight shook in my hand as I flicked the light to where my friend pointed in horror.
I followed her wide-eyed gaze and studied the rows of dolls and bears. My uneasiness grew as I felt each of them staring back at me.
Then I got to the two figures at the end of the row. The clothing looked familiar… jeans, a red shirt, a blue jacket.
The light flickered in my hand as I backed away in horror, trying to make sense of the sight before me. Our two friends stared at us from dead, bloodied eyes, the sinister grins on their faces revealing long, rotted teeth.
“No… this can’t be real, no.” I shuffled back, ignoring Lee’s whimpers.
The room suddenly went totally black as first her flashlight, then mine, went out. I shook the light and stumbled about in terror. Where was the door? Where was it?
I reached out my hand. “Lee, hurry, give me your hand! C’mon, we can get to the door… Hurry! Lee?”
My screams filled the room when the cold, dead fingers touched mine.
Fiction © Copyright C.A. Verstraete
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Author C.A. Verstraete:
cavThe Haunting of Dr. Bowen:
A Mystery in Lizzie Borden’s Fall River

Gruesome deaths haunt the industrial city of Fall River, Massachusetts.

Dr. Seabury Bowen—physician to the infamous Lizzie Borden—swears he’s being stalked by spirits, though his beloved wife thinks it’s merely his imagination. But the retired doctor insists that neither greed nor anger provoked the recent sensational axe murders in Fall River. Rather, he believes the city is poisoned by bad blood and a thirst for revenge dating back to the Indian and Colonial wars.

Now, two years after the Borden murders, Dr. Bowen is determined to uncover the mysteries stirring up the city’s ancient, bloodthirsty specters. Can he discover who, or what, is shattering the peace before Fall River runs red? Or will he be the next victim?

Part mystery, part love story, The Haunting of Dr. Bowen reveals the eerie side of Fall River as witnessed by the first doctor on the scene of the legendary Borden murders.

A supernatural tie-in to the book, Lizzie Borden, Zombie Hunter, but without the zombies. Based on real-life events and historic documents, though some parts have been fictionalized to fit the story. * Contains some light horror details.

Available Here!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author R.A. Clarke @RAClarkeWrites @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on October 31, 2020 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Oct_Image03A Bad Patch
by R.A. Clarke

“We need to leave,” Gord whispered, pushing with every ounce of energy he possessed. 
“It will not happen, Gord.” Jackie, exhausted, gave up, taking a deep breath. “These vines are too strong.”
“They can’t be. You’ve seen the way those farmers snap stalks—like its nothing. We can do it.” Gord refused to accept defeat. “This is life or death.”
Jackie didn’t move, a sombre shadow settling over her beautiful orange glow. “I know. But maybe this is just the way of things. Have you thought of that?” 
“I don’t want to hear that kind of talk.” Gord’s gaze flicked to Shaker and Hubbard perched atop a hay bale at the edge of the patch. Their triangular eyes stared across the vine-covered field; gaping mouths carved into smiles. Both hollow, vacant—devoid of an essence that once existed there.
“We can’t end up like the others.” He reached out to her. Jackie’s bulbous shape still captivated him after all these months. “We’re in this together. Aren’t we?”
A warm fall sun blazed down upon their once cozy little patch. Jackie sat silent; her glow cast upon the hard-packed earth. Gord’s leaf rested on one of hers.
Slowly, Jackie met his gaze. “I don’t have your strength. You must go without me.”
“Jackie—”
“Don’t argue.” Rolling her base beneath the vine holding her captive, she collided with Gord.
“What are you doing?”
Voices signalled from beyond the patch. The farmers. The pumpkins glanced at each other, leaves quivering. Jackie rolled again, hitting harder. 
A wet crack rang out.
“Jackie, stop. I won’t leave you.”
“They’re coming. We have little time. I can’t break free, but with my help—you can. Now roll into me!” 
Gord growled. “Fine, but once I’m free, I’ll get you loose.” The voices reached the patch. Maybe they won’t even take us. Other squash and gourds grew nearby. 
The pumpkins collided with a force that reverberated through their skin. Gord’s stalk finally severed. 
“It worked!” Jackie cried.
Footsteps approached. “He’s coming!” Gord slammed himself against Jackie, desperate to free her.
She stilled. “It’s no use. Go!”
He tried again, to no avail. 
“Go now!” Jackie screamed, jerking forward. Her body was more robust and Gord rebounded on impact, barrelling beneath the thick vines that provided shelter during the growing season. 
“What the—?” the farmer muttered, noticing the leaves rustle. His hairy face peered down, scouring the greenery. “Hmm, must’ve been a rabbit.” He reached down to snap Jackie’s stalk.
Gord rolled forward. 
“No, stop!” Jackie ordered, looking at him with solemn resignation. Two hands hoisted her into the air. “It was meant to be this way. Promise me you’ll get as far from here as you can. I love you.”
Gord quivered, moisture dripping from his broken stalk. “Jackie…”
The farmer’s beady eyes swung across the field. “Toby! Go grab another one from the west patch, will ya? A big one. These people want two.”
Gord’s mind whirled. He glanced at his lifeless friends on the hay bale, then back to Jackie—his whole world. What good was surviving without her? Gathering his courage, Gord pushed out from his leafy shroud of protection. He wheeled forward with a roar, ramming into the farmer’s leather boot.
In shock, the human stumbled backward. His toe caught on a vine, body lurching to the side. Jackie slipped from his grasp. She cried out in terror as she plummeted to the earth, gravity pulling her down with dogged determination. 
“No!” Gord moaned.
Jackie captured his gaze moments before she slammed into the ground, the farmer’s wretched body falling not far behind. 
Gord rolled forward, pressing against her side. “Jackie?” Her base was cracked, several large fissures stretching up her sides—her seeds bleeding onto the dirt. “Oh, no. Jackie?”
She trembled, glow fading. “You should have left,” she whispered, voice weak.
“Never. I love you.” Her tangerine skin warmed against his one last time, then she faded away. Gord felt his insides turning to lead. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
The farmer climbed to his feet, dusting grime from his pants. “Dammit!” He growled, inspecting Jackie’s broken form. “Ah shit.” He cast a scowl at Gord, reaching to grab him. “Where the hell did you come from?”
Gord met the man’s gaze, standing rounder than ever. Though humans were too simple to perceive their language, that didn’t stop him from screaming, “You killed her! You stupid, horrible creature.” With nothing left to lose, Gord jerked backward, wheeling beyond reach. The patch erupted, squash and pumpkins shouting their support.
The farmer recoiled. 
Gord attacked, quaking with rage. The human scrambled, jumping from side to side. 
“The damn thing’s possessed!” Tripping again, the farmer’s arm braced for the fall.
Gord advanced, grinding over the man’s hand with his stalk. “Leave and never come back!”
Finding his feet, the farmer’s eyes bulged. Rubbing his aching hand, his mouth twisted, hands flexing into knotted balls. Gord tried to escape, but those hands snaked out too fast, snatching him up. Shocked gasps sliced through the air.
“Join your friend,” the farmer hissed, lifting the pumpkin high in the air.
Then Gord was flying. 
The sensation only lasted a moment before he crashed down beside Jackie, splitting at the seams. Trembling amidst the cries of nearby squash, Gord sagged, pain and exhaustion taking over. He looked at his love. “I told you I’d never leave you.” Then darkness fell.
The farmer cackled, spitting out the side of his mouth. He turned, thrusting a hand into the air. “Hey, Toby. Grab two!”
Stalks snapped on all sides. Battle cries rang out as patch inhabitants rallied to avenge the grievous injustice. 
The farmer’s eyes widened, back-stepping as a horde of vegetables swarmed his way. “The whole damn patch is possessed!”
A terrified Toby ran by in a blur. “I’ll get the pitchforks!”
Frantically digging through his pockets, the farmer’s fingers tightened around a lighter. Unleashing a maniacal laugh, he shouted, “Forget the forks, son! Bring the gas cans.”
Fiction © Copyright R,A. Clarke
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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About author R.A. Clarke:

Rachael Clarke pictureR.A. Clarke is a former police officer turned stay-at-home-mom living in Portage la Prairie, MB with her sport-aholic husband, two mischievous children, and a couple quirky dogs. She survives on sloppy toddler kisses, copious amounts of coffee, and immersing her mind in fantastical worlds of her own creation. R.A. keeps busy writing/illustrating children’s literature, and is currently working on a novel. Her short fiction has been published by Polar Borealis Magazine, Writers Weekly, The Writer’s Workout, and Sirens Call Publications. Her debut chapter book The Big Ol’ Bike will release in late 2020. 

Find more about R.A. Clarke here!

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Jill Girardi @KandishaPress @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on October 30, 2020 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Body Image
by Jill Girardi

He spared no expense on the gown. He sketched it with her slim body in mind, ordered the sheerest fabric to create a window to her curve-less hips, her nonexistent bosom. In his mind, he imagined the square shoulders, the too-long neck, the chin like the waning moon. And the color! He choose a shimmering green-black, the color of a fly’s body. He cut and sewed the fabric himself, making it slightly too big so it would hang like sagging flesh from around her neck. He was, after all, the master of all designers. He could humiliate, and the world would applaud him for it. This time next year, A-Listers would be copying the style because SHE had worn it once. No one would know he had gotten his revenge- except for her. The great beauty who had slighted him would now appear ugly, even hideous, for the first time in her young life. He worked slowly, deliberately, making sure to present her with his greatest work the night before the ceremony. It would be too late to acquire a dress from another equally-prestigious designer.
The night arrived. She had no choice but to wear the unflattering gown, to be photographed in it as she accepted her award.
She was still wearing it when she killed him.
Fiction © Copyright Jill Girardi
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Jill Girardi:

GSanthoebookGraveyard Smash:
Women of Horror Anthology Vol. 2

Step through the prettiest cemetery gates you’ve ever seen and experience tombstone raves and widow’s dances, Japanese snow-spirits, Aztec bruja and temple goddesses, vengeful ghosts, djinn and cannibals, vampire hunters, plague bearers, graverobbers, and terrors beyond reason. Read through the night as the dead rise from boneyards all around the world!

#FRIGHTGIRLSUMMER recommended reading!

 Available on Amazon!  

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