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 The blood has been replaced by a black sludge, and the grinding of jagged bones resound throughout as the smell of death permeates the stale air of its existence.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

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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! 

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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

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More from author Terrie Leigh Relf:

The Sisterhood of the Blood Moon

For thousands of Earth years, the Transgalactic Consortium has had a quiet interest in this planet and its inhabitants, the Haurans. While the Sisterhood of the Blood Moon works together with the Consortium and Haurans to maintain balance in the universe, the Blood Moon is fast approaching. The power of this moon reveals untold secrets . . . including a sacred covenant with the Mora Spiders. There is an ancient pact that needs to be honored—but at what cost and for whose purpose? The world may come to an end. But will there be a chance for a new beginning?

Available for purchase from the Alban Lake Store!

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

Posted on April 25, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

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

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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!

 

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

Posted on April 25, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

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

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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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The Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Marge Simon @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on April 24, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

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

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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!

 

 

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Kim Richards @Kim_Richards @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on April 24, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

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

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

Posted on April 23, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

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
 

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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!

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

Posted on April 23, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

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

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

Posted on April 22, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

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

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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!

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

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

Posted on April 22, 2019 by Nina D'Arcangela

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

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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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