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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_04_June2019

Hear No Evil
by Sonora Taylor

Father Marvin couldn’t get it right. No matter how much he worked the flesh, evil could still slice its way through.
He sighed as he washed the blood off of his hands. When he’d first seen the trio as a boy – see no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil – he found a perfect trinity, one even holier than the three he’d hear about in church as he sat next to his mother on Sunday mornings.
Sadly, though, the people around him seemed more than happy to let in one (or more!) evils. Evil soaked their eyes, drenched their ears, and filled their mouths, leaving no room for the blood that Father Marvin offered in communion. He often grew so frustrated that he imagined stuffing the parishioners with wine, holding their mouths and nostrils closed until they drowned in God’s glory.
But that wasn’t as effective as the Trio of No Evil – and he knew the only way he’d save his flock was to make them like those little statues he’d been entranced by as a boy.
There weren’t many left in his flock to save – fewer people came to his services with each passing Sunday – but on that Sunday, the 31 who’d arrived were more than enough. He’d locked the doors, tied them to the pews, and bound them into trios. Hands sewn to mouths, eyes, or ears depending on who sat where.
But one parishioner remained, a man named Charles; one whose frightened tears mixed with the blood on his face. Father Marvin had sewn one hand to Charles’ mouth, and the other to his left eye. But how could Father Marvin ensure he’d hear no evil, with no hands left to cover him?
Father Marvin looked at his own hands. Despite the washing, blood stains seeped through the cracks in his palms. He couldn’t cut off his own hands. They were the hands of God, hands that brought good to his parishioners. His hands didn’t need to cover evil. They needed to wash evil away.
His knife glinted from the pew. Father Marvin said a prayer, then picked up the knife and walked towards Charles. He’d have to slice his ear away – and probably the other eye, for good measure. Charles screamed through his own hand, and Father Marvin gently shushed him. Soon Charles wouldn’t need to hear the evil. Soon he would be safe.
Fiction © Copyright Sonora Taylor
Image courtesy of  Pixabay.com

 

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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!

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_03_June2019Killing Time
by Rie Sheridan Rose

I didn’t mean to do it…
To waste all those precious moments
that I should have treasured
like diamonds or bitcoin.
I dawdled over demitasse,
lingered through lunch,
diddle-daddled at dinner.
I never thought about the
consequences.
I should have been more focused,
driven by the needs of the many,
borne up on the wants of the few.
Instead, I come to this…
Sentenced to discover the ultimate
end of time…
When the hands reach 2:00,
and the spikes strike home…
Will I find time to scream?

 

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 A.F. Stewart @scribe77 @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_02_June2019Lady Rose
by A.F. Stewart

The camera shutter clicked softly, once, twice, three times as the image froze itself onto film. Fading sunlight, filtered by gauzy curtains, diffused across her body, warming her cold skin. Her carefully crafted pose suggested peaceful slumber, with tumbled hair and fingers clutching a thorny stem; the flawless sleeping beauty holding a red rose.
A beauty dead to the world.
Above her the man smiled, his portfolio complete. “You are immortalized now, my sweet. Your splendour captured forever, unblemished, frozen in time as my fairy tale perfection. My gift to you. What more could you ask for?”
He put his camera down next to her poisoned glass of champagne, before spreading the tarp on the floor and wrapping her corpse into the sheet. He sat there for a while, next to her, savouring champagne and the memories of her death.
As dusk settled, he stood, with the words, “Goodbye, my sweet.”
Then he dragged her body to her freshly dug grave and buried her beside the others.
Fiction © Copyright A.F. Stewart
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
 

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More from A.F. Stewart:

HellsEmpire_CoverHell’s Empire: Tales of the Incursion

A unique anthology of two thrones at war as the forces of Hell assault an unsuspecting Victorian Britain.The cry went out to theologians and engineers, to artificers and antiquarians, to every name which could be named. By telegraph where lines were still intact, and by volunteer riders where they were not; smuggled along the coast in fishing smacks, semaphored from hill-tops. It came without royal sanction, issued jointly by the Lords of the Admiralty and Marquess Lansdowne, the new Secretary of State for War:”In God’s name, help us. We are losing.”

Available on Amazon!

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_01_June2019

Lovers Never Leave Her
by Angela Yuriko Smith

Her lovers never leave her..
She treasures them all
keeping them close
holding them dear.
There are no arguments
over chores. Their gaze never strays
to wander to other lovers. They remain
steadfast and true, devoted to her
and transfixed by her words…
after attitude adjustments.
She has found the perfect
solution for peace is a solution
of 50% sodium hydroxide at 300°
and a prick of potassium chloride…
strong enough to dissolve weak flesh
but weak enough for keepsakes.
There is no jealousy
no infighting in the ranks
no barbed comments at all.
A harem of bones—
her lovers never leave her.

 

Fiction © Copyright Angela Yuriko Smith
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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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!

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_04_June2019Cadavera Vero Innumero 
by Tiffany Michelle Brown

As Monica kissed the stranger, the taste of him changed. At first, sweetness rolled over her tongue as his hot breath mingled with hers. But as she wove her fingers through his oiled hair, the scent of gasoline, sharp and tangy, billowed between them.
He suddenly tasted like poison, and Monica had to fight back the urge to retch. She floundered, pushing against the man’s chest, afraid that if she continued she’d drown in an oil slick. Their separation was sudden and violent and left Monica leaning hard against the bartop.
Her breath coming quick, she stared up at the man who’d looked like a handsome savior just a few moments ago and now resembled some sort of dark, foreign animal. His slate-colored eyes twinkled in the sparse light of the bar.
It had been a mistake, kissing him. Monica knew that. Truth be told, she’d known it long before she’d drawn close to taste him. She’d known it when she’d sat down and engaged him in conversation, batting her eyelashes and rubbing the edge of her glass with her fingertips.
But it was the kind of mistake you made after your husband of thirty years left you for a newer, trimmer model, right?
The bar was throbbing and hot, but a chill snaked through Monica’s shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, more to herself than to him, and high-tailed it to the ladies room.
Inside, she gargled water from the tap, then ran her hands under the stream, desperate to feel something other than the oily kiss that lingered on her lips.
She sighed. She’d been so stupid. She’d come out to have a good time and let loose, and she’d royally fucked it up. Just like her marriage.
Monica was considering her next move when the room began to tilt and pitch. She clasped a hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. She leaned against the countertop, feeling woozy, then warm, then slick as oil. The episode passed as quickly as it had begun.
A toilet flushed, and a woman joined Monica at the sink to wash up. They enjoyed an easy, casual silence, the faraway echo of a country song from the bar providing an ambient soundtrack.
The woman turned to Monica as she dried her hands. “Does it smell like…what is that?” She sniffed. “Like gasoline maybe?”
In response, Monica produced a low, sinister whisper: “Cadavera vero innumero.”
The woman beside Monica froze. Her eyes glazed over, as if she’d spontaneously developed an advanced case of cataracts. She turned, took a few steps, tipped her head back as if stretching her neck, then bashed her skull into the bathroom wall — again and again and again.
A whisper of a smile painted Monica’s lips as she exited the bathroom. She scanned the bar, found the man who’d shared his gift with her, and winked at him as she headed toward the exit.
The night was young. She’d move on to another bar and do as he’d done for her. Kiss a stranger. Share the gift. Pass along the mission.
Cadavera vero innumero.

 

Fiction © Copyright Tiffany Michelle Brown
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_03_June2019Rebirth
by Ela Lourenco

The cold white lights pierce my unused retinae like jagged needles as my lids are pried open by rough hands.
“Is it awake yet?” a deep voice booms from next to me, hurting my ears with its resonance.
“Pupils are dilating as they should,” a woman answers as an even brighter light is forced into my eyes.
“I don’t care about its damn pupils, is it functional?” the deep voice demands, impatience barely concealed.
I am pulled off the hard bed to a sitting position. My body slumps, muscles atrophied… how long have I been inert? What is this place?
“Does it understand us?” the man snaps as I stare at the lab room that I am in.
Nothing looks familiar – there is no colour anywhere. Everything is a dirty shade of white from the walls to the very clothes the people are dressed in.
I grab my head as a sharp pain spears my head. Flashes of something, a memory perhaps, flickers – I remember colours… the vivid red of my favourite scarf… A chill sweeps through me, I cannot remember who I am, I feel different, other. I slowly take my hands off my head, or at least where my head used to be. I have no ears; the back of my head is not soft skin but cold hard metal… who am I? What am I? What have they done to me?
Fiction © Copyright Ela Lourenco
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Ela Lourenco:

awakeningDragon Born: Book Three
Awakening

The Royal tournament, the Karnac, is fully underway. But there is deception and betrayal at every turn. Unseen dark forces are at play, both within the school grounds and out with. Even the Gods are unable to help when a new threat looms over them all.The very existence of Azmantium depends on Lara fully becoming the Child of Fire and casting aside the Shadows lurking in every corner of her beloved planet.Can she overcome the challenges that await? Will the Shadows cover the world in darkness? Only Lara and her friends can change the fate of Azmantium.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Kathleen McCluskey @KathleenMcClus4 @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_02_June2019
Sins
by Kathleen McCluskey

Sheena spotted the hooded figure lurking near the alley, in and out of view. She walked a little faster. The shadowy specter was closer. She ran, no fled, to her car; to the safety, to the security. A large sigh of relief washed over her as she closed her car door and locked it. She brushed the sweat laden hair from her forehead. Panic stricken she looked around the dimly lit parking lot. She did not see her pursuer and headed for her apartment.
Nervously she looked around the concrete and steel jungle of the apartment’s parking lot and bolted for her front door. Fumbling with her keys she frantically tried to get her key in the lock. That’s when her world went black.
She woke to soft singing, and yawned. It was then that she realized she was tied down onto a surgical gurney. She tried to look around but her head was restrained. She began to scream. And scream. Hysterical at this point as soft voice came to her, “Hello, Sheena.” Her eyes were bulging out as she tried to calm herself down. “I’ve been watching you and you will finally complete my collection.” She could feel the bed begin to tilt upright and her eyes were met with a ghastly sight. In all stages of decomposition the remains of six other women hung on the wall like art. He removed his hood and walked amongst the dead. He stroked each one on the arm as he brushed by them. He was loving his creation. He turned, “These are my seven deadly sins. As you can see, one is still missing. I have chosen you as lust. I’ve watched you and I see how you wield sex like a weapon.” He twitched his neck and let out a shrill scream.  Placing his fingers on his forehead he sighed and regained his composure. He handed her a red rose and began.
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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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Elaine Pascale @DocLaney @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_01_June2019The Joke Goes Like This
by Elaine Pascale

The joke goes like this:
Q: What do you call a skeleton that stays out in the snow too long?
A: A numbskull
Only the joke ceases to be funny when you find your daughter digging at the hard, cold, ground, trying to reach the possibly frozen, likely decomposed, carcass of her cat.
“Why would you do that?” I shook her shoulders a bit too hard once I had her back inside the house.
“I dreamt that Johnson needed me. That he was cold.” Her blue eyes were wide with sincerity.
I remembered what it was like to believe in dreams.
My daughter had taken Johnson’s death hard. It was the first loss she had experienced. She had been too young to remember her father leaving.
The joke goes like this:
Q: Why do skeletons hate winter?
A: The cold goes right through them
Only the joke ceases to be funny when your daughter has collected the hardened and bitter bones of Johnson and placed them in her doll carriage. He had been buried in the shade where his body would be reduced quickly. She said that in her dreams she warmed the bones and Johnson came back to life.
I remember when I believed in dreams. I dreamt of a happy marriage, of a loving family. But the coldness of my marriage had gone right through me.
I let my daughter speak of her dreams. I let her ramble about everything and anything she wishes. My dreams were first squashed when I had been quieted. I had to let him talk. His thoughts were important; his ideas came first. I had to be quiet, and in the quiet I lost myself.
The joke goes like this:
Q: How did the skeleton know what would happen next?
A: He could feel it in his bones
Only this joke remains funny when extra bones are found with Johnson. I had buried him in the shade, as well. There would be no attempts to warm those bones for regeneration. It had been easy to say that he had left as he had truly left me with nothing. I was empty long before he became a skeleton and he hadn’t suspected a thing.
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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‘Places of Poetry’ release today. Collection by #author and #poet A.F. Stewart @scribe77

Places of Poetry

A.F. StewartPlaces_of_Poetry

 

With words and emotions, footsteps
echo down the road…

Places of Poetry
Come travel on a poetic journey, to cities and the heartland, across the sea and to the stars. Find wonders in the shadows and strange things to haunt your dreams. Stare at the moon or wander through memories.

Come laugh, come reminisce, come reflect.

Find your place in poetry.

Released today! Click here to find it!!

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‘Hell’s Empire: Tales of the Incursion’

Hell’s Empire: Tales of the Incursion

HellsEmpire_Cover

Hell would have its Empire….

A unique anthology of two thrones at war as the forces of Hell assault an unsuspecting
Victorian Britain.

The cry went out to theologians and engineers, to artificers and antiquarians, to every name which could be named. By telegraph where lines were still intact, and by volunteer riders where they were not; smuggled along the coast in fishing smacks, semaphored from hill-tops. It came without royal sanction, issued jointly by the Lords of the Admiralty and Marquess Lansdowne, the new Secretary of State for War: “In God’s name, help us. We are losing.”

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Prologue Excerpt:

 It began as “certain curious events”. A mention in a local newspaper; a wry comment in one of the national organs; a letter to the editor of a hobbyist magazine. Shadows and lights, inexplicable scratchings at the door – neither certain nor concrete. And it might have continued as such for months, remarked on by country vicars in their sermons, perhaps investigated with enthusiasm by the type of amateur sleuth who loves a good mystery. Nothing to bother the engines of Empire.

But it did not stay that way. We were not allowed months. From the first mention of a sickly light upon the heath to the first clawed-open corpse was a matter of weeks. Faces which could not be faces were seen in the alleyways, and mediums broke from reporting Great Aunt Mary’s comfort in Heaven to stare and scream.

Something was very wrong.

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Stories included in this anthology:
‘The Battle of Alma’, Matthew Willis
‘Hell at the Empire’, Marion Pitman
‘The Mighty Mastiff’, Rose Baxter
‘The Sea Wall’, Ian Steadman
‘The Singing Stones’, Charlotte Bond
‘The Nowl of Tubal-Qayin’, Phil Breach
‘Forge’, Shell Bromley
‘Ad Majorem Satanae Gloriam’, Damascus Mincemeyer
‘Infernal Patrol’, A.F. Stewart
‘Yan Tan Tethera’, J.A. Ironside
‘Reinforcements’, Frank Coffman
‘The Charge of the Wight Brigade’, Phil Breach
‘Profaned by Feelings Dark’, Jack Deel
‘We’ve Always Lived in a Colony’, S.L. Edwards
‘The Ones That Were Left Behind’, Martin J. Gilbert
‘A Swig in Hell’, Charles R. Rutledge
Edited by John Linwood Grant

 

Available Now – click here!

 

 

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