The Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Tiffany Michelle Brown @TiffeBrown @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on April 30, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Capture
by Tiffany Michelle Brown

When Caroline rounded the corner, she gasped in delight. On the opposite wall of the once-beautiful-now-ramshackle suite, hulking, rusted doors hung heavy on weathered jambs. The doors hung lazily open, as if someone had pushed through them and then didn’t bother to close them as they left. The metal was thick, solid, sturdy. The type of structure meant to keep people out—or to keep things in. Beyond the metal lay nothing but dark, dark, dark—as far as Caroline could tell.
“Jackpot,” Caroline whispered, fishing a new lens out of her camera bag. She secured the lens, staked out a spot in the middle of the room, and squatted down on her haunches. She spent the next few minutes shooting the doorway from afar, documenting it from a variety of angles and distances. The sharp staccato of the Nikon’s shutter echoed throughout the empty room as Caroline worked.
When she’d shot her fill, Caroline rose, slung the camera around her neck, and approached the doorway for a closer look.
A smile painting her lips, she reached out to touch one of the doors. She expected the metal to be cool, but it was preternaturally cold. She pulled her hand away, her skin burning from the contact. Caroline rubbed her fingertips against her jeans, willing warmth into her extremities.
A sudden shot of adrenaline rushed through her, and Caroline was filled with an instinctual desire to get away from this house as soon as possible. She’d gotten her shots, she reasoned. It had been a successful day. It was time to get out and let the house be.
But as Caroline began to turn, she glimpsed a shock of orange behind the doors, a bright spot in an ocean of black. Raw curiosity splashed through her limbs, momentarily eclipsing her impulse to flee.
Caroline peered into the darkness and squinted. Flat metal drawers that resembled cold, unyielding gurneys decorated the space within.
A morgue? Caroline thought. On the top floor of a Victorian mansion? And in a bedroom, no less. Weird.
On one of the metal drawers, the spot of orange again drew her attention—but it was pushed toward the back, and she couldn’t tell what it was exactly. She had to get closer.
Caroline took a step into the dim. She grasped the handle of the drawer on which she’d seen the flicker of orange. Strangely, the handle was warm, as if someone had been gripping it just before she’d arrived, imbuing the metal with body heat.
She gave the drawer a sharp jerk, and it screamed as it shot toward her, making Caroline wince. There on the cold surface was a scrap of clothing the color of an Arizona sunset. Every ounce of warmth drained from Caroline’s body as she stared at the fabric.
She recognized it.
She recognized it, because it was the very color she was wearing. Caroline glanced down at her tank top, and near the hem of the shirt, she saw that a piece was missing.
With a start, Caroline dropped the scrap of fabric, but instead of landing on cool, dark metal, the material fluttered down to drape over the gaping mouth of a fresh corpse. A corpse that, despite its mangled flesh, looked exactly like Caroline.
Caroline shrieked and moaned and scrambled out of the dark. Cold metal be damned, she heaved her full weight against the doors, coaxing them shut with a reverberating thud.
In the silence that followed, Caroline’s labored breathing was the only sound in the room—until she heard heavy, deliberate footfalls on the staircase.
Fiction © Copyright Tiffany Michelle Brown
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

line_separator2

 

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Elizabeth H. Smith @bethsmithwrites @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on April 30, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Begging the Gift
by Elizabeth H. Smith

Begging the gift, it pushed against a fleshy wall. Misformed, incomplete in body, it persisted with meager strength. Fully matured in mind, it hungered for light, insisted on fair chance. But the form in which it grew resisted. Its heart beat with what it knew to be revulsion; the connection allowed it to know. Something pushed back against the barrier it placed its hand upon. A strange sensation came with it. The commotion, screaming, howls of regret and horror, all filled its ears until its mind wished to fall rather than climb.
The unbearable noise gave forth the drive to expel itself from its prison. Its tiny fingers tore open the pulsating sack, dug through thin layers until it tasted fresh air for the first time. It looked up at the three others in the room. The one from which it had come, dead. The others, frozen in place by innate response.
For a moment, it wondered why. But its need for sustenance erased that concern, and it began to feed.
Fiction © Copyright Elizabeth H. Smith
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

line_separator2

More About Elizabeth H. Smith:
Elizabeth H. Smith is a storyteller who writes while trying to keep her cat, Luna off the keyboard. The musical group, Rasputina is her muse. She was born in the state of New York and would never feel at home anywhere else.

line_separator2

Through Clouded Eyes: A Zombie’s Point of View

Through Clouded Eyes: A Zombie’s Point of View: a collection of twelve stories told from the Zombie’s perspective.

They’re shambling toward you, feet dragging on the broken roadway. Arms outstretched, faces slack, they move as if they’re tracking your scent on the wind. You want to run, but you know there’s nowhere to hide.

Aware of their insatiable hunger, fear paralyzes you. These things were once human, people someone loved. Is there anything left inside them – some sliver of humanity that may save you from this nightmare? Your mind doesn’t want to accept the inevitable, a single thought consumes you: what are they thinking?

With your chance of escape dwindling, you snap out of it and run like hell knowing there is little to no hope; fate is coming for you. Soon you will see what they see Through Clouded Eyes…

Featuring stories from Maynard Blackoak, Calvin Demmer, Paul M. Feeney, Stacy Fileccia, Trevor Firetog, DH Hanni, Shannon Lawrence, Josh MacLeod, Zachary O’Shea, Neal Privett, Mark Steinwachs, and Alex Woolf

Available on Amazon!

line_separator2

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Erin Sweet Al-Mehairi @ErinAlMehairi @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on April 29, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Tea for Two
by Erin Sweet Al-Mehairi

Legs crossed, hands in lap,
I sit quietly with my fingers entwined
near my mother-in-law on her colorful,
ornate settee ready for tea.
We have porcelain cups and platters,
with tiny cream and sugar vessels to match,
and a tray of silver glistening from frequent polish.
Tendrils of hair nay out of place,
for any occurrence might seal your fate,
and today is not the day I want to die.
Sipping liquid like arsenic for your brain,
anxiety seeps in at the thought of any
tea-stained droplets on the white tablecloth,
flashbacks pierce through of blood-stained
drops on the carpet.
Listening with ears more suited to a train tunnel,
the chattering like chaos of a crowd,
the parade of nonsense turns my tuning frozen,
my fear messes with internal frequency
and results in high-pitch warnings.
Nodding my head in succinct, proper intervals
and smiling at appropriate five-minute marks,
counting like clockwork to not set-off her rage,
acting my best performance to set the stage.
Catching myself fingering the scar beneath my pearls,
biting my pinky nail, tapping my foot in mid-air,
I compose myself.
Hands back in lap. Chin up. Foot silent.
Damn, I’ve chipped my polish.
My mind wanders when it should be concentrating,
must be concentrating. My thoughts ramble when they
need to focus, have to focus on her words. Her selfishness
demands I listen
about lilacs, and horses, and men, and fashion,
while my subconscious pounds on about death,
and control, and fear, and sadness, and my husband…

buried in the tulip patch behind the stables. I’m not
allowed to speak his name. But in silent loneliness
I miss him.

Fiction © Copyright Erin Sweet Al-Mehairi
Fiction Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

line_separator2

More from Erin Sweet Al-Mehairi:

Breath. Breath. 

It’s the one-year anniversary of the publishing of my debut dark poetry and short story collection, Breathe. Breathe. Much of it tells my life’s pains and haunts and fears poured, sometimes savagely, onto the page. However, there is also legend, folklore, and fantasy as well. 

Breathe. Breathe. is a collection of dark poetry and short fiction exploring the surreal depths of humanity. It’s a representation of how life breaks us apart and words put us back together. Purged onto the pages, dark emotions flow, urging readers into murky seas and grim forests, to the fine line between breathing and death.In Act One, readers are presented with a serial killer in Victorian London, a lighthouse keeper with an eerie legacy, a murderous spouse that seems to have walked right out of a mystery novel, and a treacherous Japanese lady who wants to stay immortal. The heightened fears in the twilight of your minds will seep into the blackest of your nights, where you have to breathe in rhythm to stay alive.
In Act Two, the poetry turns more internal and pierces through the wall of denial and pain, bringing visceral emotions to the surface unleashing traumas such as domestic abuse, violence, and illness.
In the short stories, you’ll meet residents of Valhalla Lane whose lives are on a violent parallel track to collision, a man who is driven mad by the sound of a woodpecker, a teenage girl who wakes up on the beach and can’t find another soul in sight, a woman caught in a time shift pitting her against the Egyptian goddess Anuket, and a little girl whose whole world changes when her favorite dandelion yellow crayon is discontinued.
Amid these pages the haunting themes of oppression, isolation, revenge, and madness unfold through folklore, nightmares, and often times, raw, impulsive passion crafted to sear from the inside out.
With a touching foreword by the Bram Stoker nominated author Brian Kirk, Breathe. Breathe. will at times unsettle you, and at times embrace you. Erin Sweet Al-Mehairi, a veteran writer and editor of the written word, offers up a mixed set of pieces, identifying her as a strong, new voice in dark fiction that will tear the heart from your chest, all the while reminding you to breathe.

Available on Amazon!

line_separator2

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 @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on April 29, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Voyeur
by Lydia Prime

My mentor had done this procedure countless times but he was getting on in years, it was now my turn. As we entered the room, I turned to be sure he’d noticed. The subtle scent of overly ripe fruit in a room with no such dressings;  the aroma of an expiration past due.
I walked over to the patient and examined her pale clammy skin. Her pulse weakened, her breath shallow. No wonder Death visited this room. I gulped and returned to my mentor’s side.
Our patient let out a faint whimper that neither of us could decipher. At the word of my aged tutor, I began administering treatment. An injection of morphine to calm her, ease her into bliss, followed by several well placed leeches to suck out the monster who held her soul captive.
***
“Quickly, quickly now!” His harsh whisper scratched through my ears.
“But… she just… and…” I managed to stammer.
“Yes, yes. A horrible tragedy all that, a grievous state.” His head hung low for the briefest of moments until his hands found their way back to tidying up. I couldn’t move, just watched while he placed the tools back into his bag. “Don’t just stand there boy!” His raspy voice coached me. I grabbed up the blood soaked sheets and tossed them into my own bag…
“Get the leeches boy, the leeches!” His voice rang in my head. I turned, knocking my bag to the floor. The leeches had grown fat, too fat, as they continued their suckling while the patient withered. Plucking the engorged creatures off her tore sheets of wallpaper flesh from the desiccated carcass. I glanced at my guardian through terrified eyes; he himself shook at the horror before us. This wasn’t the way it was meant to be.
I ran to the wooden basin and flung them in, foolishly assuming I’d have time to dissect them later. Before I could blink, they swirled through the cracks, found each chink to slither through. No! No! No! With bare hands, I tried pulling them back but they were already gone.
Exhausted from the struggle, I turned from the useless pail only to find a figure standing behind my mentor. I tried to warn him but my voice escaped as quickly as the leeches had. I watched as it sliced through his torso, dropping meat haphazardly to the wooden floor. I wept as it devoured our patient one glutinous gulp at a time. I howled with fear as the figure turned its attentions toward me.
Perhaps Death wasn’t only a visitor but a voyeur…
Fiction © Copyright Lydia Prime
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

line_separator2

More about Lydia Prime:

Lydia grew up in a small, ‘Mayberry,’ sort of town, in New Jersey. She thoroughly enjoys gummy bears and laughing through the darkest depths of life. More often than not, she writes about demons and monsters, however, being a recovering addict tends to turn inner demons into fearsome foes to be fought beyond the constraints of the mind. ‘Sometimes,’ she states, ‘what’s inside, is scarier than anything reality throws at you.’

Please visit Lydia on Facebook for more info. 

line_separator2

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author K.R. Morrison @KRMorrison2 @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on April 28, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Tell Our Story
K.R. Morrison

It wasn’t much of a sound. Just a series of quiet footfalls in the corridor.
But it was enough to shatter the silence that had enveloped them for who knows how long.
Pairs of lights began to awaken. There was just enough to barely illuminate the eye sockets in which they were ensconced.
“Did you hear that?” came a voice from the darkness.
“Probably just a rat. They’re everywhere,” said another voice.
“Shut up!” came another. “I’m trying to hear.”
There was a snicker. “With what, Frank? You ain’t got no ears no more.”
“Well, you’re hearing me.”
There was a pause, then, “Oh. Yeah.”
The door latch lifted on the outside, and all of the lights went out.
“Told you.”
“Shh!”
“Now remember, leave it to me. I have a plan.” That was Frank again.
Someone was about to say something, probably sarcastic, when the door creaked open. A beam of light cut into the dark, and was soon followed into the vault by a living being.
The denizens could hardly believe their eye sockets. This was the first mortal they’d seen in many years.
The explorer’s light danced around the room as he examined every wall. When he came to the collection on the shelves at the back, however, he froze in place.
On every shelf were neat rows of human skulls. They filled the entire back wall, floor to ceiling.
As he gaped at the sight, one of them suddenly began to glow. Before the explorer could move, the light burst from the eye sockets and enveloped him. He shrieked and stumbled backward, tripped over a box, and fell.
And there he lay, unmoving.
After a minute or two, the voices started again.
“Brilliant move there, Frank.”
“Yeah, just great.” A skull near the ceiling lit up, the fire in its eyes glowing a brilliant red.
Frank’s voice came from the body. “Okay, I didn’t think of this. But you shut up, Harold. I have a body now, and once I get this guy up off the ground, I’m going to kick you down the hall.”
“Uh huh.”
The body finally jerked up, and the man groaned.
“What the hell…?” He looked around, then remembered the skulls.
That got him moving; he stumbled to his feet and ran like the wind out of the vault.
There was a lengthy period of quiet. All of the skulls watched as their first hope in years raced away from them.
Harold broke the silence. “Now what? Ol’ Frank just got out, and we’re still stuck here.”
“I think he has a plan,” came a new voice. This one was soft and female.
“Yeah, Nancy, you’re just sweet on him.”
“No, really. Wait.”
The explorer ran without thinking, and found himself in one of the asylum’s many derelict ward rooms. Dizziness suddenly hit him, and he collapsed on a moldy old bed. As the dust wafted up from the horrid thing, he started to see images—memories that were not his to have.
People filled the ward—nurses, doctors, patients. There was someone pushing a cart down the corridor, on which was a large vat. The smell that came from it was delicious—a soup of some sort. The man doled out bowls of it to patients as he came to their rooms, and when the explorer got his, he found himself suddenly very hungry.
As he raised a spoonful to his lips, he was suddenly transported to another room. Scores of workers were very busy, and the man found himself close to vomiting at the sight.
The workers were cutting up human bodies. Some were shaving off hair, and others were tearing clothes from the bodies and feeding the fabric into huge furnaces. There were several large cauldrons, out of which hung various body parts. Skulls, boiled and dried, were taken into the vault and stored neatly on the shelves.
“Tell our story,” said a voice into his ear.
He screamed, and found himself back on the bed. The asylum was dead and empty again.
But now he found a diary in his hand. After looking through it, he jumped up and ran out of the room, then straight out into the night. He didn’t stop until he got back into town.
As for Frank, he was returned rather nastily to his skull.
“Well, here’s hoping, guys. I did what I could. Once the evidence is uncovered, we’ll be free.”
Silence fell again. The lights in the eye sockets flickered out again, and the door closed on its own.
Fiction © Copyright K.R. Morrison
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
 

line_separator2

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!

line_separator2

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

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

Posted on April 28, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Abandoned Ritual
by Suzanne Madron

“There’s nothing here. Over.”
“You know how it goes, Rick. Someone reports something and we gotta check it out. It’s why we get paid the big bucks, right?”
Rick rolled his eyes and pressed the comm button. “Roger that. Gonna do one last walk-through.”
He shone his flashlight through the old building and sighed. Damned kids were always getting into the place and setting off perimeter alarms, or the local residents would swear they saw lights on in the windows and call the cops. And then the cops would call Rick’s company.
Years of fallen paint chips crunched under his boots as he explored the empty rooms. Occasional shadows flitting across the walls drew a second glance but they inevitably turned out to be nesting birds disturbed by human intrusion into their nesting space or an occasional bat.
He was about to leave when he heard an odd sound filtering down through the years of rot and warped floors above him. A chill ran up his spine and cold sweat immediately dotted his brow. He made his way over fallen plaster and masonry toward what would be a staircase to the attic.
In the light of the flashlight’s beam, he could see the stairs were noticeably slanted at an angle. He aimed the light upward and made note of the hole in the roof above. The place wouldn’t be standing too much longer with the evident water damage, but that was not why he was here. He had a job to do. Someone said they saw a ghost, and he was here to tell them they were wrong – whether they were or not.
From the attic the sound came clearer now, rising and falling in an etheric humming. Rick reached up to press the comm button and paused, his hand hovering as the hairs on his arms stood on end. The sound grew louder and moved across the floor of the attic. He traced the course over the broken ceiling with his eyes. The chill crawling over his spine turned into a full blown shudder as he recognized the symbol.
“Shit,” he whispered. He pressed the button on his comm and said, “Bob? I’m out of here.”
“Nothing there, huh?”
He swallowed hard. “Tell the owners their building is a loss.” He watched the thing crawling down the attic stairs. “Looks like some squatters got in here, too.”
“Regular squatters, or the kind we don’t put in the official report?”
Rick watched the shape slide toward him. It was vaguely humanoid, but he knew from the other times he had encountered the things that they were anything but human. He sprayed it with lighter fluid and it hissed as it climbed to its feet, reaching a long-fingered hand toward him.
“The latter.”
“Roger. Light it up and come on back.”
“Copy.”
Rick’s comm crackled in the silence as he backed away. He struck a match and flicked it toward the creature. For an instant, the glow was reflected in the depths of its large, hollow eyes and the jagged lines of its teeth and then it was engulfed and screaming.
Fiction © Copyright Suzanne Madron
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

line_separator2

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!

line_separator2

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Bailey Hunter @DarkRecesses @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on April 27, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Head Trauma
by Bailey Hunter

“Please, come in and have a seat, Miss Jasper.” Doctor Caron motioned to the couch, waiting for her patient to settle into it before taking her own seat in the chair next to it.
“You can call me Myrtle. Did you want me to lie down, or…”
Doctor Caron smiled at the wisp of a girl. It was the first question out of almost every first-time client. “Only if you want to. I want you to feel comfortable here, that is the main priority at this point.” She waited, and continued her well-practiced comforting smile.
Myrtle shrugged and pushed her impossibly small frame into the back of the couch before replying, “I think I’ll sit for now. Thank you.”
“Why don’t you tell me what brought you here today, Myrtle. We can start from there.” Doctor Caron pulled out a notepad.
“O-okay. Its my brain. I’m in constant agony. I’ve been to the so many doctors, and been scanned, poked, 7 ways from Sunday, and yet, they can’t find anything wrong with me. I’ve taken all the meds the doctors gave me; I’ve cut everything out of my diet and yet this pain is relentless. So I figure maybe this pain in my head really is all in my head.”
“I’m glad that you have gotten medical assurances that it’s not something dangerous. It will make our work easier. It takes a strong person to be willing to look at all avenues of a problem to seek solutions. You are clearly a strong, young woman, Myrtle.”
She watched as Myrtle’s body seemed to both expand and relax at that last statement. Doctor Caron gave Myrtle a moment to revel in that freedom before continuing.
“Do you know when the pain first started? Was there anything particular that may have set it into motion?”
“I guess.” Myrtle bit her lower lip, scraping off some of the candy pink gloss. “I went to a party about a year ago. I got really hammered. Blackout level drunk. I never did that before. When I woke up, I was home, I have no idea how, and I had a hangover to beat all hangovers. But the thing is, the pain, it never went away.” Myrtle began rubbing her forehead with the heel of her palm. “Like right now, no matter how hard I rub my head it’s there.  It feels as if my brain is trying to push its way out. When it gets real bad, I blackout again.”
“Would you like some water?” Doctor Caron watched Myrtle’s face shift, the skin seeming to tighten over every bone. “Are you ok? Are you feeling like you might lose consciousness now?”
Myrtle’s head flopped; her wide eyes rolled back in their sockets.
“Myrtle! Miss Jasper!  Can you hear me?” Doctor Caron moved from her chair and sat next to the girl who seemed to be having a seizure.
When she moved her face closer to check for breath, she noticed something pinkish-grey oozing out of Myrtle’s ear. It landed on the couch between them with a wet splot sound. By the time she realised what it was, the brain had grown triple in size, each hemisphere detaching from the other to reveal thousands of needle teeth in seemingly endless rows.
Doctor Caron tried to jump up but hit the table with her shin and fell back on to the couch. The brain had tripled in size again, its makeshift mouth opened wide and clamped down on her arm. She screamed, at least she tried, but before it could leave her lips, her body was flooded with dopamine, and even though she could feel her body being devoured by this thing, she was almost euphoric.
Doctor Caron said to herself, as the brain chewed and swallowed its way up her body, “talk about head trauma,” and she began to laugh uncontrollably at her own bad joke, until the brain swallowed that up too.
Fiction © Copyright Bailey Hunter
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
line_separator2

More from Bailey Hunter:
Bailey is a publisher with Dark Recesses Press.

Staking Cinderella

Gavin’s got a serious problem. A “praise Jee-sus,” rich-bitch caught him fanging—and banging—his Halloween date. Now she’s playing Holy Vampire Killer, and it’s ticking him off.

Since then, Gavin’s found someone better to occupy his mind and heart. Isolde—in bed, on the couch, in the shower. She has a thing for Disney princesses, but he’s willing to overlook it. Women like her only come around once or twice in five hundred years. He knows.

When Isolde is kidnapped to bait a deathtrap for Gavin, he’s torn between two truths…abandoning Isolde is unthinkable, but rescuing her could mean death for both of them.

 

DarkRecessesPress.com

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Angela Yuriko Smith @AngelaYSmith @Sotet_Angyal #LoH

Posted on April 27, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Sympathy for Monsters
by Angela Yuriko Smith

I come from a place of magic—
all Morpheous miasma and mayhem.
The astral rays of an unremitting sun
nourished me with pallid light…
But now I’m here, forced with you
remnants of godhood wrapped meat
laced with botox, silicon and
monochromatic sedatives…
I only want to eat, but you
judge and begrudge me
the right to survive.
There’s no sympathy for monsters.
I was pieces of your neighbor
stitched with recycled sinew
a plutonian suit of mottled skin
hung on post-consumer bone…
But now I’m here, forced with you—
blind and loveless mob bristling with
torch and penetrating pitchfork
to infiltrate my innards…
I only want to run, but you
judge and begrudge me
the right to survive.
There’s no sympathy for monsters.
I was siphoned from deep earth
expelled by your excavations
with probing drill and pump that
drain the soul from the world.
But now I’m here, forced with you—
sliding through your fetid excrement
and wasting in your waste as I reach
from the sewer to decimate your decibels.
I only want to sleep, but you
judge and begrudge me
the right to survive.
There’s no sympathy for monsters.
Fiction © Copyright Angela Yuriko Smith
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

line_separator2

More from Angela Yuriko Smith:

The Bitter Suites

Book a stay at the Bitter Suites, a hotel that specializes in renewable death experiences. Whether you schedule your demise as therapy, to bond with a loved one or for pure recreation, your death is sure to give you a new lease on life. Renewable death is always beneficial… at least to someone.

Available on Amazon!

 

line_separator2

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Tawny Kipphorn @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on April 26, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Shinigami
by Tawny Kipphorn

An empty husk lies frozen, nothing but a shell of its former self. Now the entity adopts a new visage, one devoid of watchful eyes and a beating heart. The hellacious vortex that once consumed this vessel has given birth to its eternal halcyon. As it observes its reflection, a distorted image manifests itself.
This is the downward spiral of humanity, the lost highway, the road to ruin. This house of flesh has turned to ice, and what is left enclosed has melted down, and the entity delights in the combustion of the cadaverous beings.
A giant scar has gone unnoticed by the sleepers of the world, and an organ steeped in red has gone awry. The blood has been replaced by a black sludge, and the grinding of jagged bones resound throughout as the smell of death permeates the stale air of its existence.
In the darkness it dwells, waiting to feast upon its own. The contagion runs rampant within this place, and should you find yourself face to face with the infectious being, may death consume you and reduce you to ash with haste, and may God have mercy on your fettered soul.
Fiction © Copyright Tawny Kipphorn
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

line_separator2

More from Author Tawny Kipphorn:

A Shadow of Autumn

Fall—a season as beautiful as it is foreboding. A Shadow of Autumn takes you back to childhood nostalgia while peeling away the mask to reveal things that haunt your worst nightmares. Within these pages, you’ll find the usual denizens of the holiday—demons, witches, ghosts, and bloodsuckers—along with strange and unknown creatures lurking everywhere from innocuous cornfields and pumpkin patches to basement hatches and high school dances. These fourteen tales of fall magic and Halloween horrors will keep you looking over your shoulder long after the last light of October has waned. Don’t say we didn’t warn you…

Available on Amazon! 

line_separator2

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

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

Posted on April 26, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Gloves
by Terrie Leigh Relf

Despite the recent warnings of an impending snowstorm, there was just a fine icy mist swirling around their campsite. When Evan cranked up the radio an hour or so later, all they heard was static and white noise.
“Maybe we should head back down the mountain,” Sara said, holding her hands over the camp stove. She’d lost her best pair of gloves on the hike up, and no one else had brought an extra pair.
Ty nodded, reached into his backpack for an energy bar and a bottle of water, which he added to the kettle on the stove. “It’s going to be dark soon. Even with the snow tires, I don’t want to be heading down that steep road. What if someone else is driving up?”
“It’s decided, then.” Evan tore open a pack of cocoa, dumped it into his mug, added hot water from the kettle. He swirled the sweet cocoa around with a finger, then licked it with a smack. “The weather could shift before we’re even halfway down the mountain. Let’s just stay here for another night.”
“Why don’t we move camp to that cave? It’s just about a quarter of a mile back up the trail. You remember the spot, right? Where the trail veers off.”
“Good idea, Ty. Let’s warm up a bit. Emily, you should have some cocoa or something.”
Emily’s lips were chapped, so she offered her best imitation of a smile. “Do you have any more of that brandy?”
“Not until after we move all our stuff.” Evan drained his cup. “Unless you want to sleep in the van tonight, we should get going.”
***
Fortunately, the cave went a bit deeper than they first believed, so they set up their tents toward the back. It wasn’t so cold that they needed to bundle up together.
While Emily dug a small pit, surrounding it with rocks she scrounged from the cave, Evan and Ty went in search of twigs or anything else they could burn before the snowstorm set in. It was about dusk when they returned with enough kindling and chunks of wood to warm up the cave.
“Hey! Look what I just found!” Emily brandished a pair of gloves with just a few dark smudges on the fingers. “I think they’re wool-lined, too.” She slipped them on, and closed her eyes, savoring the warmth.
“That’s great. Where’d you find them? In the bottom of your sleeping bag?” Ty chuckled, as Emily was always losing stuff and finding it in odd places.
“No. Here in the cave just below that outcropping. Someone probably set them there and didn’t realize they’d fallen.”
While they warmed themselves around the fire, Evan brought out a bottle of brandy. “This is the good stuff, guys, so savor it,” he said, pouring.
Emily scratched just underneath the cuff of her new gloves. Strange. Wool didn’t usually make her itchy. She flashed on the possibility that a spider had bitten her, shrugged. After finishing her brandy, she held her cup out. “Just a bit more, please? I’m heading to bed.”
Emily climbed into the sleeping bag still wearing the wool-lined gloves. During the night, she startled awake several times, her hands alternately itching and burning, but she couldn’t get the gloves off.
In a feverish haze, Emily wriggled out of the sleeping bag, nearly collapsing her tent. Evan and Ty’s snoring, which usually annoyed her, didn’t even register as she stumbled through the cave’s opening into a bank of snow. She clawed at the fresh snowfall until an opening finally appeared, revealing a full moon in the night sky.
While she still couldn’t pull the gloves off, her thermal pajamas stiffened with the freezing temperatures, cracking into slivers of bloody ice-covered fabric. She leaned forward, roaring with agony as her bones, sinew, muscles, and flesh were reconfigured . . . blood seeped out of her pores, sizzling as it dropped onto the icy path.
She howled again, staggered back, before looking down at her hands, which were no longer trapped within the gloves Where once her left hand had been, a fur-covered claw. Her right hand, however, still appeared human, with long-tapered fingers that began to transform before her eyes. Shaking the snow off her back, what remained of Emily reached out for Evan and Ty to no avail.
Just before sunrise, what had once been Emily shielded her eyes before clawing through the icy bank that lead into the cave. Despite the chill air, her sense of smell prevailed. She leaned forward, then to the left and the right, snuffling. Her stomach growling, she bared her teeth.
Enough fresh meat to last through winter…
Fiction © Copyright Terrie Leigh Relf
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

line_separator2

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!

line_separator2

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