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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Old Man in My Dreams
by Melissa R. Mendelson

We passed by this old decayed house on Mansion Ridge one afternoon, and ever since, I started to have this strange dream. In my dream, I would be sitting on a blue chair, and the room was thrown into shadow. There seemed to be a window on the far side, but I couldn’t see it. Still, sunshine fell upon a pot full of yellow flowers on a coffee table, and the flowers were singing. Their songs made me sad, and I would always start crying too. As I cried, this old man slowly stepped out of the wall. His skin was reminiscent of dead leaves; his fingers were like thorns. He rubbed my back as I cried, but not out of kindness. At his touch, my skin began to yellow, and my legs folded together turning green. I found myself singing such a sad song; the song that I would now sing for all eternity.
Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

line_separator2


More from Melissa R. Mendelson:

Better Off Here 

We always look to the greener pastures, thinking our lives would be so much better over there, but if we were over there, what if all we wanted was to go back? Instead, we found ourselves trapped with the darker side to our fears.

Available Here!

 

line_separator2

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Rie Sheridan Rose @RieSheridanRose @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Rain
by Rie Sheridan Rose

Rain.
Cold.
Wet.
Saturating the earth and the sensibilities.
Days, weeks, a month of rain.
Everyone scurried around with their heads down and their trousers hiked trying to soak up as little of the water as possible. They should have done their dead-level best to sponge it all off the roadways.
Instead, it slipped through the cracks, poured through the manhole covers, seeped into the fabric of the world…
…and touched something deep within the shadows.
Called its name.
Woke it up.
And now, it is coming to eat the world.
Fiction © Copyright Rie Sheridan Rose
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

line_separator2

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!

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 Marge Simon @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Heavens Door
by Marge Simon

He doesn’t remember how he got here,
yet there is a staircase behind him,
so he figures he must have climbed up
and can return down the stairs,
but they fade and disappear.
It is very hot on this level.
The floor is spotless, and
the air reeks of pine oil disinfectant.
There are three doors before him.
One opens to let in a blinding light,
When he covers his eyes,
he is immediately aware
of agonized shrieks and moans
that issue from its source.
The next door is painted white.
Someone has tried to break into it,
the wood has been dented
as if by the pounding of fists.
The handle will not turn
and comes away in his hand.
The third door slowly opens,
a blackness thick with portent,
the music of an oboe lures,
a daunting challenge he cannot deny,
for there must be a reason he’s here.
He plunges forward
into the core of that unholy Dark,
which is when the voices begin,
surrounding his mind, shredding his identity,
as he realizes why the Afterlife remains unknown
and prays his death will be complete.
Fiction © Copyright Marge Simon
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

line_separator2

More from Marge Simon:

 

Satan’s Sweethearts
by Marge Simon and‎ Mary Turzillo

Satan’s Sweethearts – a collection of poems by Marge Simon and Mary Turzillo featuring the most monstrous, evil women throughout history!

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 Kim Richards @Kim_Richards @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Coming and Going of It
by Kim Richards

The two women—one a priestess, the other a witch—stood silently side-by-side watching the result of their combined efforts. Mixed emotions showed in how they stared at the thing with narrowed eyes and lips parted in a soft “O”.
A bipedal being floated in the air before them, hovering a full foot above the ground. It was there until it wasn’t; returned and faded. Its body disintegrated before the women as thought burnt to ash in a moment. After a pause, the grey dust particles floated together, connecting in swirls, blending to give the thing solid form again. The process repeated in an endless loop.
“Did you pronounce the words correctly?” Jorra asked.
Davnet sniffed.
“Absolutely,” she said. “Perhaps your goddess doesn’t find you as faithful as  you believe you are.”
The creature formed—this time more quickly than before. It’s forearm and it’s face took human shape. It raised the arm toward the women. It’s thin, white lips moved and then the disintegration phase began. It came apart on a light breeze.
“Do you think it’s in pain?” the priestess asked.
“I cannot tell. We should destroy it and begin again.”
“How do we do that when it keeps changing forms?”
Davnet said in a flat tone, “Do that thing you did to the soldier last night.”
The thing-man gathered together again. This time it waivered and the lips moved again.
Staring at its partially formed forearm, Jorra frowned. “To do that, I have to touch it. There may not be enough of this thing solidified for my power to work.”
Davnet waived her hand toward it. “You try it anyway and I’ll ready a wind summoning spell. If your death touch doesn’t work, I’ll try to scatter its bits while it’s insubstantial.”
Jorra nodded. She held her breath until the creature partially formed again. Then, in a low sing-song voice, she chanted the song of death.
The thing’s eyes focused on the priestess’ face.
She struggled to remain focused and added a sense of urgency to her chant. She reached out her hand, fingers outstretched.  She gasped as the creature’s form crumbled like wet sand beneath her fingers.
Jorra cast a sideways glance at her companion. The witch stood with her hands upon her hips. The priestess decided there was lightning and thunder in those stormy eyes. She said nothing to Davnet and focused inward. She drew in a deep breath and held it a moment before letting it out slowly. Slow breaths, she told herself. Relax.
After a few moments, Davnet called out, “Here it comes!”
Jorra began her chant again; saying the words more quickly this time. Her voice rose as the creature-man took it’s half form in front of her.  Something in the back of her mind told her to step back, that it was too close to her. She ignored the premonition and reached out her hand to touch it on the forearm.
This time, the creature grasped her hand in his like an unwelcomed handshake. It’s grip tightened.
Jorra yelped from the pain and tried to pull her hand back.  It held her fast.  She didn’t understand why her death  touch did nothing to this creature. In fact, it was stronger and more fully formed.
It yanked her arm hard, pulling her off-balance until it stood chest-to-chest with her. Jorra looked into its eyes and realized why her powers made it stronger. It was death.
The white lips moved again.  “Come with me.”
Jorra screamed as the death creature disintegrated, taking her with it.
Standing back, Davnet shook her head. She chuckled low, turned on her heels, and went home.
Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

line_separator2

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

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Elegy to a Medium
by A.F. Stewart

To Madame Rosta, the spiritualist,
late of London, now among the departed
Her rooms a shrine, of sorts, to her clients
and a warning to those who knew her well.
For who would not shiver there now, after…
well, such a tragedy, her last séance.
She was a fraud you know, until her dying day,
her ghosts a bag of tricks and careful props;
she made the clients trust and took their money.
Yet, when their backs turned, she laughed,
swearing all fools that should believe in spirits
Then came the last day, the last trick
to be played on her, from Hell itself.
Now only sooty walls, smeared with ash
remain of poor damned Madame Rosta.
Fiction © Copyright A.F. Stewart
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
 

line_separator2

More from A.F. Stewart:

Abandoned: 13 Tales of Impulse, Betrayal, Surrender, & Withdrawal

To act with abandon, in any sense of the word, is human. Whether it’s the sudden, strong urge to do something, either good or bad, or the act of betraying someone you love, we make choices that forever change our lives. Do you give into something or someone completely, or withdraw wholly into yourself? These thirteen stories run the gamut of emotions and express horror as you’ve never imagined it.

The story of a woman alone at the end of the world and the small lifeline she hopes will prove humanity still exists challenges the search for anything left behind after the death of a child. What if you hid a secret you’d thought no one else knew? Would its revelation spark the monster hiding within? A downward spiral into madness juxtaposes the ultimate, but impossible, (re)birth. Would you choose the frigid winds of winter over the warmth and safety of your lover’s arms?

Abandon hope, all who enter here…

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 Scarlett R. Algee @ScarlettRAlgee @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Baby
by Scarlett R. Algee

Marion’s first idea that anything was wrong came at the tickle between her toes, just after she’d shut off the water.
She glanced down into the slowly draining soapy water and saw them: the whip-thin black tendrils, curling between and around her toes first, tugging as if curious, then thickening up through the drain and skating over the tops of her feet. She stood perfectly still for three seconds, until a spasm of anxiety made her shiver and drive her fingers into the mass of her wet blonde hair.
But the snaking dark lengths wrapped around her ankles and glided halfway up her calves, and Marion drooped in resignation, leaning forward till her forehead touched the clammy wet tile. Baby was hungry.
She didn’t know what it was, actually—some species of leech, maybe, knotted up down below like a rat king—or how it had got into her shower drain, or even how far it reached in other directions. Maybe in different houses, different wriggling ropes latched onto different legs. Maybe—
The tendrils tightened their collective grasp. Marion tensed, anticipating pain, but as always none really came. Brief rasping stings lapped toward her knees like aggressive cats’ tongues, but then she was numb, numb as a stone, too numb to be afraid.
Then the creature, feeding, began to sing.
It was nothing Marion heard with her ears. The low rough fluting began beneath her skin, wormed its way deeper like seeking fingers, like tentacles, sheathing the innermost spaces between her organs in wavering, haunting cacophony. The dappled walls of the shower fell away, and as the song crept higher through her throat and toward her brain, it seemed that Marion’s skin and skull fell away too. Odd stars sparked and warped behind her eyelids and between her teeth as the song receded, became a pulse, as if the cosmos held and rocked her in some vast, welcoming womb.
Baby, the creature said, though to which of them it referred, she couldn’t be sure.
Time unwound. The pulse weakened and stilled; the tendrils receded. Marion’s cosmic nest gradually faded to the gleaming damp walls of her shower, and she stayed still for a long time before she could brace herself to step out on the mat. She raked both hands through her tangled hair again and looked down.
The tapering welts that curved toward her kneecaps still oozed blood sluggishly. In a few minutes there would be scabs, and tomorrow the scabs would peel off to reveal vermilion stippling its way up her skin, and the next day the vermilion would be gone, until the next time.
Marion reached for a hand towel to blot the most egregious ooze. It had taken more than usual this time, would probably take more the next time and the next; but Baby was hungry and had to be fed, and those moments of comfort, of song and slow-turning galaxies, were worth a little blood.
She wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out into her bedroom, still trailing blood, still tasting stars.
Fiction © Copyright Scarlett R. Algee
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

line_separator2

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!

line_separator2

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Ela Lourenco @ElaLourenco @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Sanatorium
by Ela Lourenco

Thirteen years.
Thirteen years chained to a hard, narrow cot bed. Muscles atrophied long ago from disuse. Nothing to pass the long hours other than to stare at the putrid damp rot creeping slowly down the decaying ceiling towards me.
There is no one, no one but the faceless orderlies who come in twice a day to shovel gruel in my mouth and inject me with their poisons. At first, I fought, then I cajoled and cried – it seems so long ago I cannot remember when I stopped – these wordless creatures shuffling in and out without so much as a glance my way.
Everything is a shade of grey in this place. Everything except the heavy rust-ridden doors permanently ajar. Left open to torment me, to tantalise me with the impossible hope of escape.
I used to believe that one day I would have the chance to run away but now I know. Even if the doors are open, even if my chains broke, my paralysed legs could no longer carry me – the only escape I can hope for is death…
Fiction © Copyright Ela Lourenco
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

line_separator2

More from Ela Lourenco:

Essence

Katra is a Fae Hunter in a world once ravaged by a terrible war. Having lost all memory of her childhood and rightful identity, her duty is now to protect the tentative peace brokered by the varying races of the supernatural world. When an evil darkness begins to spread, draining young witches of their power, Katra must find a way back to her true past in order to save the future.

Enduring many trials as ever-increasing powers awaken within her, Katra must also struggle with the mixed emotions her new partner, Blade – a Black Dragon – is rousing within her. Together they must battle the shadows that plan to devour the world they know and prevent its decent into another thousand-year war.

Can Katra hold onto her strength as the truth of her very being begins to unravel? Can she bear the weight that ancient prophecy has placed on her young shoulders? Or is her destiny to regain her true self, only to lose the world she is sworn to protect?

Available on Amazon!

line_separator2

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

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Monkey Man
by Elaine Pascale

There is nothing familiar about a dead body; no smell or laughter, no squeezed hand or hugged waist, no cocked eyebrow or half-smile, no wink. This is why I could barely recognize Frank even though I had witnessed his murder.
The long gashes in Frank’s neck were no longer spurting blood. The geysers had dwindled to a sprinkle followed by a slow drip.
The monkey man had lost interest at the same time the blood shower stopped.
***
We had come for healing. Our relationship was worn in an uncomfortable way. We had been rekindling when the shadow had darted behind the bushes.
Frank had never been his primary target. That had been apparent as we were soaking in the ancient mineral springs. The day was so cloudy that the usual elderly arthritic clients had skipped their weekly trek and we had the place to ourselves. What luck, we had thought, until I felt something brush my ankle. Frank told me it was my imagination and we floated blissfully for some time before leaving the water to dry off among the copses.
Another shadow: ignored because we were trying to focus on each other.
A smell covered the sulfur of the mineral water. It was musky and sour like the breath of a tomb.
Frank was playfully swatting me with his towel—a ritual that never grew old with him but that always annoyed me (and never would again)—when a taloned hand shot out from between the sheath-like leaves. The claws raked across Frank’s throat and he fell to the ground.
***
We had come for healing. Something else had found us.
There will be nothing familiar about my dead body either. I just wish it would be quick.
There will be no healing, only an end. For now I close my eyes and pretend that the monkey man is not kissing me with those cruel lips.
Fiction © Copyright Elaine Pascale
Image courtesy of  Pixabay.com

line_separator2

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…

line_separator2

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Lori R. Lopez @LoriRLopez @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction #poem #poetry

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Sitting Room
by Lori R. Lopez

There were chairs in a parlor where
nobody sat, and dust collected in layers.
A table for card games that nobody won;
you could see the bare bones of the players,
whose shadows stained walls and a mantle of
grim descended from moonlight’s pall.
The Sitting Room had an old “died-in” smell,
which bothered no guests at all.
For here dwelt the spirits having no place to go —
the desolate-hearted, the under-trod,
with paths interrupted and shattered hopes,
the future gray, devoid of sod.
No mourners paid tribute, no tears would be lost
as they stood in the chamber uncounted,
awaiting a judgement that never tolls
for the souls who so little amounted.
Please spare them a thought or a prayer
if you will, these sorry invisible ghosts . . .
their griefs abundant and joys but few,
abiding in Limbo, stiff as posts.
Bring flowers to brighten the miserable hours
of those for whom no bell should ring.
Solemn and empty looked the seats
in a chamber of thrones unfit for a king.
Without the spade to carve the tomb,
a mortician’s touch on waxen brows,
their bodies collected bleak as crows,
unable to rest or rouse.
Fiction © Copyright Lori R. Lopez
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

line_separator2

More from Lori R. Lopez:

Cornstalker

Trouble with a capital C! The tale begins when a car stops and a body is tossed into the Corn. But this is not just any crop. It is the battleground of a legendary creature who haunts fields along desolate highways, only when stalks are tall and the blood of brothers has been spilled in the soil — rising above the Corn like a burly Scarecrow.

A novelette of betrayal and retribution, “Cornstalker” pits a female truckdriver and a man with blood on his hands against a mythical beast summoned by a band of men wearing feathers and paint.

Jane is searching for her younger brother, who disappeared along a highway bordered by many ears. The last message on a sputtering cellphone had been something about a monster. So she took over his rig, coincidentally called “The Monster”, a heavy-duty black beast with a long snout, double chrome stacks and a reinforced grill. Anxiously prowling the roads of The Cornbelt, she picks up a stranger who could be dangerous. Our heroine may need to unleash her own demons to emerge from the Corn once she goes in.

First appearing in the 2014 anthology DEAD HARVEST, “Cornstalker” is part of Lori’s SPOOKTACULAR TALES collection.

Available on Amazon!

line_separator2

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Sonora Taylor @sonorawrites @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Salty Air
by Sonora Taylor

Maggie didn’t know why there was a covered well in the marsh. It had fascinated her since she and her mother had moved in with her grandfather earlier that summer.
“That well holds secrets we’ll probably never know,” he said when Maggie drew him to it on an afternoon walk. “Maybe it holds the sea. Take a deep breath – can you smell the salty air?” He sniffed and puffed out his chest for effect.
Maggie copied him, but rather than sigh, she crinkled her nose and tried not to cough. All she could smell was dead fish.
A small rattle sounded near them. Maggie looked and saw the well’s lid tremble. Her eyes widened, and she turned to tell her grandfather. But he’d already continued down the beach. Maggie hurried to catch up with him.
***
Maggie’s mother sighed as she sipped her tea. Her head was bald and her skin pallid, but Maggie could see shades of beauty beneath the pale. Cheeks with a blush of rose, eyes as black as the ocean at night.
Maggie had always seen her mother withdrawn. With each year she grew, her mother seemed to grow sadder. Her father told her that childbirth had left her weak, so Maggie had to do her best to never disturb her.
Maggie didn’t understand, then, why her mother insisted on bringing Maggie with her when she decided to run away. “Don’t I weaken you?” Maggie asked as they drove towards her grandfather’s house, somewhere near the ocean that Maggie had only ever heard about in her mother’s stories.
“Weaken me? Never!” Her mother ran a trembling hand through Maggie’s hair. “You keep me strong. Why would you think otherwise?”
“Because Daddy said –”
“What Daddy says are lies.” Her mother’s eyes narrowed, and Maggie swore she saw them darken in their reflection in the windshield. “He stole things from me – things that kept me tethered to him, things that weakened me. He wants to do the same to you. I won’t let him.”
“Is that why we’re running away to Grandpa’s?”
“Yes. I need to go back to the things that I lost.”
***
“Maggie, wake up!”
Maggie blinked the sleep from her eyes and saw her mother shaking her. “What is it?”
“He’s here. Daddy’s here. We have to run.”
Maggie bolted out of bed and followed her mother down the stairs. “Run where?” she asked.
“Away. No, honey –” She swiveled Maggie as she moved towards the hall leading to the front door – “out the back. Grandpa’s distracting him.”
They moved to the back door, and Maggie heard the menacing softness of her father’s voice float from the front door. “You haven’t seen them?” he asked.
“Nope. They haven’t been here,” her grandfather replied.
Maggie and her mother stepped outside, and Maggie gently closed the door behind her. They ran as quietly as they could towards the marshes. Maggie felt the pungent odor of dead fish and salt hit her nose.
“This way!” Maggie pulled her mom in the direction of the well. Something told her they would be safer there than near the water. They reached the well, and her mother let out a cry. “How did you find this?” she asked.
“I found you because I know these marshes well.”
Maggie and her mother turned and saw her father staring at them from the other side. He smiled, and it was far from kind. “I grew up here too,” he said. “I knew where to hide in the marshes, and where to bury the –”
The well rattled. It shook so much that both her parents saw it. Maggie stepped back just as the concrete cracked. Black tentacles burst from the cracks, sending their briny scent into the air around them. Maggie screamed, and her father looked on in horror.
But her mother – for the first time in all of Maggie’s life – laughed. She grinned and held out her arms. The tentacles slithered up her arms and coiled into her head, where they settled into a sheath of beautiful black hair. The faint rose in her mother’s cheeks turned to coral pink as she dipped her hands into the well and brought out a mottled, shiny mat, one she draped over her body like a cloak.
“You wouldn’t return to the sea,” her father said with a sneer. “You’d never leave Maggie.”
“Of course not.” Her mother’s voice sounded like wind chimes made of seashells. When she grinned, her eyes glittered like lightning. “But I can leave you there.”
Maggie’s mother grabbed her father before he could run, and pulled him towards her. She leaped into the well, a tentacle of hair pulling the lid over top. Maggie heard her father thrash and scream while her mother laughed. She waited for her mother to return, and took in a moment to breathe in the salty air.
Fiction © Copyright Sonora Taylor
Image courtesy of  Pixabay.com

 

line_separator2

More from Sonora Taylor:

Without Condition

Cara Vineyard lives a quiet life in rural North Carolina. She works for an emerging brewery, drives her truck late at night, and lives with her mother on a former pumpkin farm. Her mother is proud of her and keeps a wall displaying all of Cara’s accomplishments.

Cara isn’t so much proud as she is bored. She’s revitalized when she meets Jackson Price, a pharmacist in Raleigh. Every day they spend together, she falls for him a little more — which in turn makes her life more complicated. When Cara goes on her late-night drives, she often picks up men. Those men tend to die. And when Cara comes back to the farm, she brings a memento for her mother to add to her wall of accomplishments.

Cara’s mother loves her no matter what. But she doesn’t know if Jackson will feel the same — and she doesn’t want to find out.

Available on Amazon!

line_separator2

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