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

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!

Oct_Image02

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Nina D’Arcangela @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on October 30, 2020 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Oct_Image01

Drifting
by Nina D’Arcangela

Shallow drifting on purple dreams, sliding into deeper shadows.

My hair spread about me like a crown on the water. Your eyes glittering in the moonlight as you look down. My hand reaches, caresses; you nuzzle my shimmering wing. Warm, loving, caring; the sweetness tinges our midnight breeze.

Your gaze steady, hand pressing gently upon my throat. Sound muffles. Wavering visions of you as tears fall in silence.  A final sigh. My hair feathers like an ethereal halo. Your eyes steadfast as they gently cup our sorrow.

Shallow drifting on purple dreams, sliding into deeper shadows.

Fiction © Copyright Nina D’Arcangela
Image courtesy of Pixabay

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More from Nina D’Arcangela:

Mental Ward: EXPERIMENTS

A dank basement, shadow filled hallways, the deep echo of a metal latch being thrown while faint screams are heard… These are the things you might experience in a place where the unspeakable happens, where conscientious action and moral turpitude turn a blind eye in the interest of advancing one’s own personal pursuits in the most deranged and unjustifiable manner. The type of place where power corrupts, and depravity runs rampant among those imbued with it. A place where the unfortunate are abandoned to the devices of those who convince themselves their actions are in the best interest of science.

Mental Ward: Experiments is a collection of ten short stories that demonstrate the worst of humanity’s ambition in the interest of ‘civilized’ advancement. Step into a world where sanity is left behind, and horror is what the doctor ordered!

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 Lydia Prime @LydiaPrime @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on October 29, 2020 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Oct_Image04

Pallor Mortis
by Lydia Prime

“Hearts beat to Death’s rhythm,” that’s what Callie always said. “Life supplied the instruments, content to watch while Death conducted tremendous symphonies of decay. Life, you see,” she’d tell me, “is far more insidious than we’re led to believe.”
I never understood what she was trying to say. It felt like almost completing a puzzle, but the box was missing a piece. Still, I loved to listen to her, no matter what she said—it always sounded smart.
We used to sneak out at night, riding our bikes as far as our legs and lungs would let us. She was my best friend, and when we were alone in the moonlight, I saw her face, the uncensored version. Callie was a sad girl who’d unlocked the secrets of the universe. She had tear stained cheeks and torn up lips that never had a chance to heal.
“Mila, it’s coming soon.” She whispered, “they think I’m almost ready.” A weak smile cracked her sullen face as she held my hand. “But don’t worry, it won’t happen to you.”
Her grip tightened and I tried to speak, but fell short. Although I didn’t know what she meant, and wanted with my whole heart to understand this time, a sudden mourning wrapped us both, and we sat in the tall grass till the sun rose.
I never saw her again. I missed my friend for ages and never stopped thinking about the finality of her last words to me. Each morning I questioned what she was protecting me from, and each night, I’d hope she was happier now. Tonight, was no different. I settled into bed with our childhood memories swimming through my mind.
“Mila.” A hushed voice called through the winds, “Mila.” Flurries of dried leaves blew through my window. It was Callie, I knew it was.
“The grass,” more whispering.
I raced to the window, breath caught in my throat, hoping I wasn’t imagining things. A woman stood on the sidewalk, her back to me. “The grass,” the woman pointed toward the thicket before her. She never turned to look at me, but I’d recognize those jet-black locks anywhere. Her voice carried gently in the chilly autumn air, “Milaaaa.” She headed for the wood, not waiting for a reply.
Goosebumps tingled as they formed over my body—something was wrong. I didn’t know what exactly, but something rotten was coming from the young girl I used to know.
I took a chance, throwing on whatever shoes were nearest and sprinted after her. She called my name again as she disappeared between the trees. She was guiding me to the place we’d last seen each other. While I knew where she was going, the path seemed darker than it used to. I held my arms close to my chest and stepped carefully, doing my best to avoid the littering of twigs and dried leaves. Making noise now felt wrong.
When I reached the meadow, I saw her standing impossibly far off. Her complexion lacked any pigment, as if she’d become translucent. Her frosted blue eyes glistened in the moonlight. They pierced through me, penetrating my mind. Callie didn’t speak, she didn’t move. My head felt fuzzy while she added the missing puzzle pieces.
Her talks became clear: all the warnings and sorrows.
I saw her nervously return home, greeted by her family who immediately whisked her to their self-made basement. They left her there, without food or drink for several days. My heart wretched; her panic consumed me. I listened while she sobbed, begging and bargaining for reprieve.
As the final morning arrived, they granted it. Her parents and siblings stood around her. Limbs tied and over extended with strange symbols drawn above them. They chanted in guttural tones, calling to sacred unseen forces. When Callie pleaded for them to stop, they chanted louder. Her face was beet red and drenched in sweat, she struggled against the binds to no avail. Hopeless, she simply wished for Life to let go. And let go, it did.
No more struggling, just quiet. The family’s erratic behavior stilled; they watched with baited breath while Callie’s chest ceased expanding. The youngest untied her wrists as he’d been told, while her sister released her ankles. Quickly they returned to their places among the others, continuing to await their master.
Callie’s fingers twitched; her light eyes flicked open.
I gasped, overwhelmed by the unfolding nightmare.
Her body rose, head hanging limply against her chest. “You called?” Different octaves of her voice sounded in unison.
Her father started to speak, he intended to be the first to address their Lord, but before he could utter a single syllable, he was cut off.
Callie spoke again, answering herself, “Ah, yes. I see. Consider yourself relieved.” Her neck snapped, jerking her head upright. Crystal eyes aglow and streams of blood leaked from the corners of her mouth.
The circle that surrounded her realized their mistake—they had been forsaken. Her mother was the first to attempt an escape, she was also the first to scream. One by one, they each cried out in pain—in fear, it didn’t matter anymore. Callie reveled in her shrieking chorus. Life had excused her from the torment she was undergoing, but Death, well, Death was ready for a new song.
Flayed alive; layers removed in coils, stripping the meat from their bones. They watched. They begged. They created new sounds that Death had never fathomed, and Death had heard them all. When there were no other ghastly chords to extract from the participants, Callie vanished. Her family left to decompose in their dank cellar; spoiled cadavers trapped with eternal screaming.
The smell of wet grass thrust me back to the wood. Callie was closer now; I could see her flesh cracking, and smell the odorous sludge as it dripped from her festering maw. She grimaced; her jerky movements frightened me. “Callie?” I murmured.
She gripped my shoulder tight, her slender fingers dug deep into my bones. My eyes watered from the sting.
“Callie, please.” I whimpered.
My friend had been gone a long time; it seemed Life and Death were craving another melody.
Fiction © Copyright Lydia Prime
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Lydia Prime:

ibhbItty Bitty Horror Bites

Unknown worlds, monstrous beings from nightmarish visions, and even a look at the darker side of life. Brace yourself as you dive into this chilling forty-six piece collection of bite sized horror—you might just end up leaving with more than you bargained for…

Are you sure you want to turn off that light?

 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 Terrie Leigh Relf @TLRelf @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on October 29, 2020 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Beneath the Glorious Moon
by Terrie Leigh Relf

Maureen wasn’t in the mood to attend Clyde’s annual celebration. Nevertheless, she donned the requisite flowing temple priestess gown and topped it off with a circlet of flowers, feeling that she looked more like an innocuous character from Midsummer’s Night Dream rather than the witch, she purported to be. 
As she crossed the street to Clyde’s house, she looked up into the sky. A blue moon hovered over the roof, casting an eerie light. There was a single pumpkin resting on a woodpile just off the walkway, mist flowing from its feral eyes and sinister mouth.
Maureen sighed as she reached for the heavy doorknocker, which Clyde opened before it even dropped. “Come in. Come in. So glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she responded, knowing that Clyde knew otherwise. 
He offered a crooked smile. Grasping one of Maureen’s hands, he lead her through the familiar spacious living room, through the ornate French doors, and then into the back yard where his special guests had gathered. 
“This is not just another Halloween,” Clyde murmured, handing her a goblet of red wine. “Tonight is special.”
“But it’s next year’s blue moon that is supposed to be astrologically significant,” Maureen whispered back. Clyde winked at her as if they shared a secret, and then turned toward his guests. “Please join me in a toast!”
Everyone tilted their heads back while lifting their goblets above their heads. “To the blue moon!” After lowering their goblets, each guest offered a toast to Clyde before parting their lips to drink. 
Clyde nodded to the guests in turn as he guided Maureen beneath the luxurious limbs of a wild oak tree. Her back against his chest, Clyde pressed her close, then closer still. Together, they watched as each sip inspired his guests to cast off their costumes, to embrace each other in a sensuous dance beneath the promise of a full moon.
Maureen felt the heat radiating from Clyde’s chest, the cacophonous beating of his heart, how his skin undulated between them with every breath . . . 
And then a palpable silence before she felt the first spasms wrench through her body, the first bone-altering agony, the first glorious night of transformation . . . 
before their nuptial feast beneath the blue moon.
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 Michelle Joy Gallagher @Aphelia @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on October 28, 2020 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Yanti
by Michelle Joy Gallagher

Full dark. Do you know the meaning of full dark? There are places inside of you that know it. Ventricle of heart, lobe of lung. The inside of the inside. This is where Yanti was born, in the indifferent womb of full dark. Sometimes there were sounds: A deep hum that reverberated through her, a low and steady thrumming that was more like infrasound. But there were long stretches of nothing. She was encapsulated by the dark like a tumor waiting to be discovered and excised. When light finally arrived, she didn’t know it. Her mind did that silly flip it does when seeing something it never has before. In a lot of ways, the light felt just like the dark. Indifferent. But then there were colors and she was bathed in them. They were so intense she could perceive them on her skin in warm and cold. Without knowing what warm and cold were, she grew very afraid. Without knowing what fear was, she became overwhelmed and slept. The light cradled her as she did, and the colors danced around her. When she awoke, she was greeted by the thrumming she’d heard in the full dark, but this time it was woven inside of whispers. A heartbeat and a voice, becoming clearer and clearer. Her heart swelled. The voices sounded melodic and happy. She didn’t know what happy was, but it felt like tendrils of smoke all inside her and tears rolled down her face. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She held it open, hoping her own voice would greet her there in the new world surrounding her.  A stuttered breath and then a laugh, jagged and mechanical, but real and present with her. The voices again, from outside the outside.  
“Ok so, where do we want this woman to come into the story? Does he meet her in the café, or will it be later than that?” 
Yanti’s heart skipped. The thrumming, the melodic voices, were they talking about her? 
“No, no, no… I think the best part about our protagonist is that he’s a loner. We have him meet someone and… I don’t know, I think it’ll take something away from his character development.” 
The light and the colors vanished in an instant. The full dark no longer felt indifferent, but malevolent. And the space around her, the place where she dwelled for however long before this, it started to shrink. Soon it was as if she was dipped in pitch. She couldn’t move or breathe. She thrashed and fought against it to no avail. It continued to shrink, squeezing and contorting her body in painful ways.  
“Ok, fine. Lets put that on the back burner then. Maybe he meets her at the end, you know a little light at the end of the tunnel. People like that shit, they’re comforted by happy endings.” 
The squeezing stopped and she could feel the broken places inside her from all the pressure throbbing the nerve endings she didn’t know could fire, were screaming in pain.  
“Alright, but I’m telling you right now, I’m not feeling it.” 
The full dark, the tar pitch, the pressure, collapsed further in on her, crushing her into an unrecognizable mass, and then nothing remained.
 
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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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments