The Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Stephanie Ayers @theauthorSAM @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on December 26, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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A Snow Day Every Day
by Stephanie Ayers

“It’s the most magical place on earth!” Serena told Ben. She offered him a wide “trust me, I’m the older sister” smile before straightening and sliding her hand into their mother’s. “Isn’t that right, Mommy?”
Kristin looked down at her daughter and gave both her children a half smile. She’d been chatting on her phone, not paying attention to what the kids talked about. She hesitated for a moment, but Serena’s shiny eyes pleaded with her to agree, so she did. “Absolutely. Your sister is smart, Ben. She wouldn’t steer you wrong.”
Serena gave a little clap and dragged her mother and brother forward. “Come on! I can’t wait to show you!”
The entrance into the village was like something straight out of a fairy tale. The Lemnock Society had done a fabulous job of preserving everything. A large golden archway bordered with a golden fence enclosed the village. “Christmasville” sparkled on thick gold lettering in the center of the arch. White powder and fluffs of cotton gave off the appearance of a recent snow. Midsize decorated evergreens guarded the entrance on either side. A few wrapped gifts of varying sizes tumbled from beneath the trees. Serena and Ben expelled their ooo’s and ahhh’s as they crossed the threshold.
Inside the gate was even more exciting as the village came to life. Cardboard buildings rose taller than their mother in scattered increments as far as they could see. In the center of their path, a mock pond had been created, and life-sized statues posed in various positions on the ice. One twirled slowly, while another made an eight repeatedly. 
Both children’s eyes glistened as they took in every sight. 
“See? I told you it was amazing!”
They stopped at the first street light. It was made of black iron and two small row houses were displayed in the lamp amid fluffs of fake snow. Lights shone in the windows. Shadows moved gently behind the lights. Everything about the street light exuded comfort and joy, right down to the small figure walking a dog on the street in front of the houses.
Serena clapped her hands together. The further they went into the village, the stronger her desire to live there became. She saw no schools. The one church had a friendly, smiling minister waving from the door. Snow covered the ground everywhere, and every house glittered with lights and shiny decorations. They marched down one side of the street, down through the alleys, until they came upon Santa’s house. Here the streetlamp was different. Instead of tiny houses covered in snow, a tiny sleigh filled the lamp, elves dancing around and hanging from the sleigh as they dropped gifts into the sack on the back. 
“Mommy!” Serena said, tugging on her mother’s arm. Her arm extended and she pointed forward where eight reindeer grazed in front of a castle. Jubilant ho-ho-ho’s spilled from the house, and she could see Santa through one window. “Don’t you wish you could live here forever? We could never be sad.”
Kristen smiled at her daughter. “Yes, that would be nice, but wouldn’t you miss your friends?”
Serena laughed as she stepped onto the fake pond and swirled around one of the children posed there. “I would make new ones.” She danced to a different statue and spun in a circle in front of it. “We could ice skate every day.” She pointed to a small grouping of child statues hovered around a sled. “And sledding! Oh, Mommy, it would be a snow day every day!”
“I don’t know. What do you think, Ben?” Kristin smiled at Serena again, then frowned when Ben didn’t answer. “Ben?”
Her eyes searched the village. No Ben. Panic rose in her throat.
“Ben?”
Serena took Kristen’s hand and tugged. Kristen stared at her daughter.
“I bet he went to see Santa. Don’t worry, he’s here somewhere.” She released her mother’s hand and circled around another skater.
Kristen stared at the castle ahead of them and nodded. “I bet you’re right.” She held her hand out for Serena, who kept moving further away, intermingling with each of the statues on the ice.
“Serena? Are you coming?”
“Can I just stay here if I promise to stay here? I promise I won’t go anywhere else.”
Despite the growing dread in her stomach, Kristin agreed. 
“Okay, but don’t go anywhere else. I’m just going to go in the castle and find your brother.” She started to walk off, then stopped. She turned around and watched her daughter pretend to ice skate toward the small wishing well in the center of the pond. 
“Serena?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t make any wishes, okay?”
“But, mommy—”
Kristen sighed. “Not until we get back. Let’s save your wishes for the whole family, okay?”
Serena grinned. “Okay.”
But Serena didn’t wait. As soon as her mother disappeared, she slid to the edge of the wishing well.
“I wish… I wish…” She turned around to see if her mother watched. Kristin was nowhere in sight. She switched to a whisper. “I wish we could live in the village forever,” she said, staring into the well as if watching her words cascade into it. She skated from the well toward the children on the sled and froze in place, her leg extended behind her. A tear glistened on her cheek as she realized what living in the village forever meant. She watched as Kristen and Ben approached, her mother calling her name. Her throat scorched with the desire to scream yet no sound came out. Horror crossed Kristen’s face as she froze in her place, her eyes locked on the statue of her daughter, powerless to stop Ben from freezing in place too.
“If only you’d listened,” Santa called from the castle. “If only you’d listened.”
Fiction © Copyright Stephanie Ayers
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Stephanie Ayers:

The 13: Tales of Macabre

Can you survive all 12?

Killer watermelons, murderous jewelry boxes, centenarian sea whisperers, creatures of myth/legend, and more…

This supernatural story collection will make you reconsider everything you thought you knew. At night you’ll hover under your covers while looking over your shoulder in the day. Down, down in the depths they fell; bodies in the dark of a liquid hell. Can you survive all 12?

This is the second collection in The 13 series. Will you survive all 13?

With forward by JM Ames and poetry by Stacy Overby.

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 K.R. Morrison @KRMorrison2 @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on December 26, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Happy Birthday, Wallace!
K.R. Morrison

“I have no friends here. Only Wallace.”
Teacher Dale put Benny’s paper aside. “Poor kid,” she whispered.
Benny’s transfer to his new school hadn’t gone well, and most of the kids teased him mercilessly. She had done what she could to alleviate the problem, but nothing had worked so far. There had been a ray of hope this evening, however; she had seen him walk into the middle-school dance. He was immediately lost in the milling crowd of youngsters mobbing the gym, so she didn’t know what happened after that.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices coming through the wall behind her. She frowned and got up to check it out. Those kids were told to stay out of the science room. The janitor was supposed to have locked the door!
The smell of burning hair was what hit her first as she opened the door to the lab. But that was nothing in comparison to what her eyes beheld.
Benny was sitting on the floor, inside a crude hexagram he had drawn with what she hoped was chalk. It was impossible to tell, since all of the lights were out. The only source of illumination came from inside the skull that was in front of him. That light was fire—Benny was burning hair inside the skull of their plastic lab skeleton.
“Benny!”
He didn’t move. His face was frozen in a wide grin, and his eyes stared into the empty sockets of the skull.
“Teacher Dale,” he said. “Thanks for coming to Wallace’s birthday party.”
“Wallace?” She looked around, but saw no one else. “Where’s Wallace?”
Benny pointed at the flaming object in front of him. “This is Wallace.”
“That’s not…Benny, put that fire out. You’ll melt Mr. Boney’s skull.”
“Not Mr. Boney. Wallace.” His grin got wider. “Wallace Bernard Stockman.”
Teacher Dale’s blood froze. Stockman had been a serial killer who had been put on trial, convicted, and given the penalty of death by lethal injection. This had only been a year ago, and had been the talk of the area for some time. Many of the townsfolk had lost loved ones to the maniac.
“Benny! That isn’t very nice. That man was taken away and is now dead.”
After a lengthy pause, Benny shrugged. “Guess they didn’t kill him good enough.”
Dale edged toward the now-headless skeleton, which was hanging in its usual place. She put out a tentative hand and brushed the armbone, not wanting to feel, but needing to know.
The bones were real! Gone was the plastic skeleton, and this monstrosity was in its place!
Benny threw some more hair on the fire. Dale could now see combs and brushes in a heap beside him, and remembered how he had a habit of lingering in the cloakroom most mornings. Now she saw why.
“Benny?” Her voice quavered a little, and she struggled to remain calm. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because it’s Wallace’s birthday, and he asked me to do it. He’s my only friend.”
Dale was about to reprove him when suddenly there was a mighty roar, like a hurricane wind—yet there was no movement of air in the stuffy room. Flame shot from the eye sockets of the skull, and the tips of the fire touched the wicks of nine candles that were arranged before it.
At the same time, the sounds of merriment in the gym down the hall turned into screams of panic. Dale was paralyzed by fear, even as the flames swooped around Benny. His grin suddenly turned into a wordless scream, as his body disappeared in the fire.
Hours later, investigators finally got around to checking the other classrooms to see if the carnage had spread to the rest of the building.
They found Teacher Dale, prone on the floor, clutching the leg of a fully-intact plastic skeleton. There were no signs of any other disturbance.
Weeks later, the murder rate skyrocketed.
Fiction © Copyright K.R. Morrison
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
 

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More from Author K.R. Morrison:

Be Not Afraid (Pride’s Downfall Vol 1)

Lydia’s faith in God is strong – at least on paper. But what happens when that faith is tested? Turned into a vampire by the worst – Vlad Drakul – she feels that God has abandoned her. But the opposite is true. God rescues her from a fate worse than death, and brings her into the plan He has for global redemption. With the help He sends, she feels like nothing can stop her. But when Vlad torments her again, and then her family, the temptation to run and hide is almost too strong to resist. Her answer to God’s call is the deciding factor in the battle that pits the angelic powers of God against the demonic powers of Hell.

Available on Amazon!

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

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

Posted on December 25, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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The Blue Light Abyss
by Melissa R. Mendelson

Darkness creeped into the room.  The window was black.  The candle flickered across the wooden table.  Its light was a faint whisper, casting eerie glows across the breakfront nearby.  Porcelain skin, painted faces were shadowed.  Silence took a seat in the chair nearby, watching an elderly man approach the window.  The man welcomed the abyss.
The elderly man cast a glance across the room.  He paused along the breakfront.  His eyes rested on the faces that stared back at him.  Tears shined under blue light as they raced one another down porcelain cheeks.  Hands frozen in time.  Cries silenced by glass.
The elderly man shifted one step away from the window.  He looked from the dark landscape to the long, black bag that waited beside the table.  His brow furrowed.  His hands rubbed together like worn leather.  He nodded as if a conversation took place, and silence broke as a hard foot struck the wooden floor.  Then, another step until the bag was in his hands, and he slammed it down onto the table.  The candle blinked.
The sound of a zipper being pulled back shattered the room.  Blue lights shook along a plastic tree placed in the corner.  White foam fell like snow but refused to melt.  Porcelain smiles formed into hollow screams as the elderly man reached inside and welcomed the dead.  It was time to get to work, and the elderly man’s eyes shifted to an empty spot in the breakfront.
Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Melissa R. Mendelson:

nrftw_mrm.jpgNo Rest for Those Wicked

I’ve been trying to remember why I was sentenced down there. Why would I go to such an awful place, but every time I try to remember, I hear a baby cry. That’s my only answer, and that cry haunts me in my sleep. I want answers. I want to open that door and see what waits on the other side, but the demons are keeping that door locked. They don’t want me to know. Are they afraid that once I do know, I will be free?

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 Kathleen McCluskey @KathleenMcClus4 @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on December 25, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

DEC_IMG_03The Summoning
by Kathleen McCluskey

Astrid watched as the men began to gather their weapons and shields. She knew that the invaders from the south would not be stopped. She used her powers of foresight to see the end result. A large shudder ran across her back as she saw her beloved Bjorn awash in the fjord. She begged him not to go but as a Viking he had no choice but to fight for his land and his honor. She prayed that the gods would be merciful and spare the land she called home from the invaders.
As she watched the boats leave she could hear the winds calling to her. She closed her eyes and listened intently. They spoke of the gods, of glory on the high seas and of death. Astrid opened her eyes and went to see the great seer.
Opening the door to the home of the seer, a large gust of wind spoke to her of trepidation. She knew there would be a price to pay to save her homeland and her people from the impending doom. The seer was propped up on one arm amidst soft furs and pillows. He played with the fire, running his hand across the flame. “You have come to save the kingdom? What have you brought as a payment?” Astrid began to cut a large piece of her long blond hair. Without looking at her he raised his hand, “Stop. I have no need for hair, child.” He paused, “Come close and I will tell you the price and what must be done.” She knelt beside him and he whispered in her ear. Then gave her a box, he motioned with his hand, “Now go, you know the price for what you seek.”
In her home, she opened the box and took out the lantern. She knew that calling upon the god Ullr to bring down the cold, snow and ice was fatal. She lit the flame, took her knife and opened up her arm. As the life faded from her she saw her beloved Bjorn coming home unscathed. She could see the kingdom restored as the invaders were frozen by the mighty Ullr.
Fiction © Copyright Kathleen McCluskey
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Kathleen McCluskey:

The Long Fall: Book 1: The Inception of Horror

Lucifer always cunning and intelligent challenges father to a battle of wits. Being the angel of light he casts a judgemental eye upon mankind. He begins a war with his fellow archangels and God. Michael, along with his siblings defend their home and mankind from their deranged brother. Broad swords and hand to hand combat drench heaven in blood. The four apocalyptic steeds are released, each having their own destructive power. Betrayal and lust are at biblical levels. Understand the very creation of evil and the consequenses that transpire in the first of THE LONG FALL series.

Available on Amazon!

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Scarlett R. Algee @ScarlettRAlgee @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on December 24, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

DEC_IMG_02The Last Day of Christmas
by Scarlett R. Algee

From above, again, the noise.
Angelica stares down at her carpet and realizes she’s about to need a lot of ammonia.
The blood is soaking outward in a giant, vaguely angelic stain around the shiny black boots and the fur-trimmed suit. She lowers the axe and grasps an edge of the red velvet to wipe the sides of the blade clean; it does the job, but the hues don’t match.
Still, six years. Six years. He’s disappointed her daughter for the last goddamned time.
The lantern-shaped snow globe on the mantel is liberally drenched. Setting the axe beside the fireplace, Angelica reaches for a clean handful of red velvet and scrubs the acrylic faces clean, then fumbles for the ON switch. The tiny,  crooked city inside comes to life in a burst of LEDs and a swirl of plastic snow pellets, accompanied by a tinny instrumental version of “Frosty the Snowman.”
Angelica takes a few deep breaths to calm down, humming along for five seconds. Then she grasps the boots, tugging their occupant toward the kitchen and its linoleum floor, smearing the carmine angel outline into a sticky, sodden mess. At this point, she decides, cutting out the carpet and scrubbing the concrete beneath will be easier—
“Mommy?”
She drops the booted limbs with a thud and looks over her shoulder. “Serena?”
“Uh-huh.” Blonde Serena peeks around her mother’s legs and squeaks, eyes wide. “Does this mean I’m still not getting a pony?”
Angelica sighs and starts to wipe her forehead, then realizes she’s still holding a scrap of bloodied velvet. “‘Fraid so, kiddo…”
She trails off, remembering the noise, and looks ceilingward. It’s soft, but Angelica catches the hint of a snort; then, more distinctly, the impatient thunk of hooves.
Multiple sets of hooves.
Angelica squats to her daughter’s level. “Get your coat and let’s go outside, okay? I think we might find something more interesting than that pony.”
Fiction © Copyright Scarlett R. Algee
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Scarlett R. Algee:

The Lift: Nine Stories of Transformation, Volume One

The hall is dark and the overhead light flickers. Sounds echo, and there’s a creaking and clanging that gets louder as you stand in the semi-dark. The elevator opens and you’re offered a ride. Step inside and ride it to the story chosen for your transformation. Don’t be afraid, for Victoria, the mysterious girl who operates The Lift, waits to guide you. Set in the same world as the award nominated audio drama, The Lift’s first written anthology features nine all new stories by fan favorite writers and special bonus content by creators Daniel Foytik and Cynthia Lowman. The collection is brought to life with beautiful illustrations by Jeanette Andromeda for each story.

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 Tiffany Michelle Brown @TiffeBrown @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on December 24, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

DEC_IMG_01Letting Go
by Tiffany Michelle Brown

Milo’s grip faltered as he stepped into the dining room. The champagne bottles he’d been carrying clattered as they hit the tabletop. One wobbled wildly, but remained upright. The other fell on its side and rolled a couple inches toward the center of the table, then stopped. The liquid inside the perturbed bottle bubbled furiously, not unlike Milo’s gut.
He chewed his bottom lip as Sylvie, unfazed by Milo’s movements, continued to light candles on the table with a struck match. Her hands were fluid, steady, sure of themselves. Inside the ring of evenly spaced tealights, a skull grinned at Milo.
“Isn’t that a little morbid?” he asked.
The dancing flames illuminated Sylvie’s blond curls. “It’s ambiance.”
Milo stared at the skull on the table. “Ambiance.”
“Yeah.” Sylvie smiled at him. She raised her matchstick and blew out the flame, her work done.
Milo righted the fallen champagne bottle, his eyes glued to Sylvie’s unorthodox centerpiece.
He didn’t like the skull. It was too realistic. The grooves of the replica were intricate, the bones colored in such a way to resemble various stages of decomposition, and some sort of material resembling either dirt or moss was sprinkled across the skull.
There was something about the macabre display that made him want to run. To pump his legs as hard as they’d go. To get as far away from it as possible.
“Have you decided what you’re letting go of tonight, my sweet?” Sylvie asked.
The New Year’s Eve party had been Sylvie’s brainchild. She had this grand idea of inviting friends over not to watch the ball drop and exchange kisses at midnight, but to sit around a bonfire and participate in a kind of cleansing ritual. Everyone was encouraged to bring an item that symbolized something they wanted to let go of, to leave behind in the past.
“It’s about shedding what you don’t need anymore,” Sylvie had stated proudly. “Starting fresh.”
Though he and Sylvie were hosting the party, the assignment had left Milo stumped. He didn’t have regrets. His memories were mostly sweet. He didn’t feel a need to start anew. He had a blank piece of notebook paper in his pocket, which he planned to sacrifice to the flames. He’d make up an elaborate story about it when everyone arrived.
Sylvie must’ve read the hesitation in his features. “It’s okay. I took care of it for you.”
Milo frowned. “You did? You have something for me to burn?”
Sylvie moved closer and started tearing the foil off the bottles of champagne. “Uh huh.”
“Great. Uh, thanks.” Milo shoved his hands in his pockets. He tried to focus on Sylvie, but a creeping feeling that the skull in the center of the table was…observing him…slithered through his consciousness, leaving coldness in its wake. “So, what is it?”
Sylvie chuckled and inclined her head over her shoulder.
Milo frowned. “You want me to burn that poster?”
“No, silly,” Sylvie said. “The centerpiece.”
“The skull?” Milo asked, puzzled. “Why would I do that?”
Sylvie moved next to Milo and nuzzled into his side, her arms around his waist. Out of habit, Milo pulled her close. Sylvie’s hair smelled earthy and sweet, a mixture of her coconut shampoo and the outdoors. They both gazed at the skull.
“You don’t recognize her?” Sylvie asked.
Milo squinted. She was asking if he recognized the skull? Had they seen it out shopping recently?
“Costume shop clearance bin?” he asked, hoping the answer was that simple.
Sylvie squeezed Milo tight and sighed. “I got it while I was running errands earlier.”
“Okay…” Milo said.
“I got it from Whispering Meadows.”
A flash of adrenaline shot through Milo. His hands slipped from Sylvie’s shoulders. His stomach turned. She’d been to Whispering Meadows?
“You talk about Lily all the time, my sweet,” Sylvie said. “To be honest, it hurts my feelings, how much you used to love her.” She sighed. “Sometimes, I feel…like I’m a third wheel to her memory.”
Milo stuck his nose in Sylvie’s hair and sniffed. There it was, the smell of fresh dirt, ripe and pungent and so very real. Milo stared at the skull, realization coursing through his chest like poison.
“Don’t you think it’s time? Grief can be so heavy. And I want us to be closer.”
“You…you…?” The questions, the accusations, the screams were caught in his throat.
“Yes,” Sylvie said. “I did this for you. For us.”
He’d loved Lily fiercely. Continued to love her fiercely. She’d been taken from him in a snarl of fire and metal in a busy intersection five years prior.
Milo’s eyes swept from the freshly excavated skull of his ex-girlfriend to the golden crown of Sylvie’s head. He was trembling wildly, partly from fear, but mostly from rage. In the light of the dining room, Sylvie’s blond hair resembled bright, white-hot flames, the kind that seared and scalded.
As those flames snuffed out the love for Sylvie he’d previously held in his heart, an idea took shape. Fighting through his growing disgust, he encircled Sylvie in his arms. He gripped her desperately, but no longer out of love.
“Thank you,” he said into her hair, “for showing me exactly what I need to let go of tonight.”
Fiction © Copyright Tiffany Michelle Brown
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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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 Mary Ann Peden-Coviello @MAPedenCoviello @Sotet_Angyal #LoH

Posted on December 23, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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The Shadow
by Mary Ann Peden-Coviello

The Shadow waited, lurking in the dark interior of the spruce tree. The Shadow neither knew nor cared how long it had waited. It grew stronger season by season, snaring the occasional unwary chipmunk or cardinal that might creep or hop onto the tree’s branches. The Shadow hid itself deep in the dark recesses where no eye could see it, no long-snouted predator could search it out, no ray of sun could sear it. 
Until the day came when happy shouts of, “There’s the Tree! Oh, Daddy, look, that’s the one!” caroled across the forest. The Shadow clung to the trunk of the spruce as the tree was sacrificed to the cruelty of the Season. 
The Shadow hid itself ever deeper in the darkest branches of the tree, a darkness difficult to find after the tree’s corpse had been strung with flashing lights, tinsel, and baubles. The family laughed and preened themselves in front of the tree, never seeing the Shadow camouflaged behind the glittering display. The Shadow observed them from its hiding place, its predatory instincts on alert. 
Two tall ones and a vulnerable, small one. 
Late at night, the house quiet, the Shadow slithered down from the tree, seeking food.  
The Shadow crept toward the room where the small one slept, sliding across the floor, the essence of Darkness, intent upon feeding. As the Shadow began to climb onto the bed, a low growl rumbled all around. 
Giant claws snatched the Shadow from the bed and dragged it underneath. A Monster, much larger than should be able to exist in such a small space, roared into what would be the Shadow’s face, if it’d had one, “The Child is Mine. You shall not touch Her.”
Pain the like of which the Shadow had never imagined enveloped it as the Monster Under the Bed bit the Shadow in two and then swallowed it. One enormous paw extended beyond the bed and took the little girl’s hand, which she’d flung over the side in the throes of a nightmare she wouldn’t remember.
In her sleep, she squeezed the massive paw. Then she rolled over and dreamed again.
“Mine.”
Fiction © Copyright Mary Ann Peden-Coviello
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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More from Mary Ann Peden-Coviello:

maryannpedencoviello_frightmareFright Mare-Women Write Horror
Short Story: One Hour Before the Dark

Women write horror and have written it since before Mary Shelley wrote FRANKENSTEIN. This anthology is to highlight the fact women write great horror and to kill the fallacy that they aren’t in some way up to standard. They are. Read here stories by Elizabeth Massie, Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Lucy Taylor, and a plethora of other great writers as they work on your nerves, get inside your head, and bang out some of the scariest tales written today. I’m proud to present these women for your consideration, as Rod Serling might say, as I ask you to step into FRIGHT MARE. Lock the door and windows, put on a light, and remember, it’s not real. It’s not real. Midnight awaits, monsters scheme to take you away, the strange and weird wait in the shadows, but it’s not real. Is it?

Edited by Billie Sue Mosiman, the author who brought you the SINISTER-TALES OF DREAD collections and her latest suspense novel, THE GREY MATTER.

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 Rie Sheridan Rose @RieSheridanRose @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on December 23, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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The Dying of the Light
by Rie Sheridan Rose

She looked out through a tangled curtain of thin gray strands that had once been the red of banked embers. The night was cold, her breath dancing with the stars. Every step was a burden…but the end was in sight. Just beyond the ridge, she could rest. 
The lantern in her hand flickered in sympathy. It too was tired. Soon, it too would rest.
She struggled up the last hill. At the top, she could see a brilliant beacon, and she smiled sadly. Once, that had been she. 
Panting now, she forced her weary feet the last few meters. Her successor danced upon the ridge, eyes shining in joy and anticipation. 
Laughing with excitement the child said, “Happy New Year, Mother. You may rest now.”
With a sigh of release, she blew out the light.
Fiction © Copyright Rie Sheridan Rose
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Author Rie Sheridan Rose:

Skellyman

“I have always preferred the supernatural in tales of horror, the knot between life and death. Rie Sheridan Rose’s Skellyman is cool and creepy. Her first horror novel is a chilling read.” — Charlee Jacob – Stoker winner, Best novel, “Dread in the Beast”

Brenda Barnett is trying to cope with raising her four-year-old daughter all alone after an accident tore her family in half. As she and Daisy go for a much-needed treat, the little girl spots a Skellyman on the corner.

This pivotal encounter leads to a wave of mounting terror as Brenda’s life begins to come undone around her. Who is the Skellyman? Why does he keep appearing? Can the sympathetic policeman Brenda turns to stop the madness before it is too late?

And why does Daisy insist that her dead brother is trying to tell them something important?

Available on Amazon!

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

Posted on December 22, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

DEC_IMG_02‘Tis the Season
by Elaine Pascale

“We need the bigger tree. It’s tradition,” he was saying but the baby was crying in the stroller and she knew they had no room on the credit card for the tree.
“Just a table tree will be fine. He is too young to know the difference this year.”
“You always have to piss all over my ideas.” He was becoming irrationally angry. It was just a tree.
“We can’t afford it. I am so sick of the cycle of going into debt every holiday season and then trying to scrape our way out of it the rest of the year.”
“We can pay the credit card off when we get our tax return.”
She rolled her eyes. She knew they would be lucky to get anything back at all, let alone the thousands that they owed.
The baby’s cries had evolved to screams. She decided to check if he needed a diaper change or a bottle. 
They had stopped in front of the streetlight display that her husband liked best. It looked like a Tim Burtonesque house enveloped by a gentle snowstorm. She hated the display and the false holiday serenity it displayed, and she currently hated him.  
“I just don’t see why you can’t be on my side with this. We always had a tree like that growing up and I want to carry on the tradition. I want our son to look back on the pictures of it in our home—”
She tried tuning him out as she felt around inside the diaper for wetness. Her hands had begun to shake, and she realized that she was hungry on top of being irritated. The sounds coming from her baby were cutting right through her.
“You are like the fucking grinch or something. A hater of holiday glee.” He folded his arms across his chest. Not once had he tried to help her soothe the baby. 
The blood had begun pounding in her ears. She was dizzy and angry, and she knew she had lost control of her temper.
She closed her eyes and whispered the words. 
The small streetlight display exploded.
She had been imagining his head exploding. She would work on her aim.
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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The Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Marge Simon @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on December 22, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

DEC_IMG_01
Happy Horrordays
by Marge Simon

Here she comes again carrying that dreadful purse she had made from my skin. Dumps it out in front of me. Yes, same crappy dime a dozen tea lights. Rude, classless crone. As usual on holidays, she sets them in two rows before my countenance and leaves.
I suppose tonight it’ll be another gaggle of her fellow hags show up with their inane chanting and carrying on. Flabby arms flapping around, stomping on the floor and disturbing the sleep of the dead, me included. Disgusting. I’ll never forget that night they all got bloody soused and did the Hokey Pokey –totally bare ass, mind you –oi!! Had I a stomach, I’d have retched.
Oh oh. I hear them downstairs whooping and carrying on. Now she comes in and lights the candles. Goes back out. In a bit, footsteps thudding up the stairs, cackling and hiccupping –though the door they come! But what’s this? They’ve got ropes of tinsel and gaudy bobbles –no, NO! Draping my bones with this crap, singing “Deck the Halls”.
It won’t do, I tell you! It simply won’t DO!
And now that harridan, once my bride, holds a bit of mistletoe over my skull and beckons them to come forward, one by one, to give me a kiss.
Fiction © Copyright Marge Simon
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Marge Simon:

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The Demeter Diaries
by Marge Simon and‎ Bryan D. Dietrich

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

Available on Amazon!

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