The Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Stacey Turner @Spot_Speaks @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Arrival
by Stacey Turner

The hunter pulled his sword as the wood filled with an eerie green light. Mist rose from the ground reducing visibility to almost naught. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up while icy tendrils snaked their way down his spine. Fear filled his mouth with a bitter tang, and he turned in a slow circle, the better to see anything which might be creeping up on him. Twigs cracked, and a large wolf padded into view. Maintaining eye contact, it perched on its haunches, non-threatening. But the hunter didn’t relax. Though the wolf might not be hostile, foreboding still flooded his mind, keeping him on edge. And then, it glided into view. The figure resembled a man, draped in a worn leather cloak, the hood pulled low over the face. The hunter did not trust anyone, or anything, he couldn’t look in the eyes.
The figure pulled a large, silver blade from beneath its cloak and rested the tip on the ground. Crows cawed from high in the surrounding trees, a cacophony that hurt the hunter’s ears. As he winced, an overlarge crow came to roost on the stranger’s shoulder. The mysterious figure lifted his head. Piercing green eyes were the only things visible in the darkness beneath the hood. The hunter cowered.
“I seek a village where resides a woman called Petra,” a voice rumbled from the figure. If the voice had spoken in the last century, the hunter would be surprised, so hoarse was its timbre.
“Petra lives in a cottage on the outskirts of our village,” the hunter answered, too afraid to keep silent.
“Give her a message,” the shrouded foreigner said. “Tell her Marcelle is near.”
“Yes, of course.” The hunter bowed low, not knowing what else to do. Fear still held him in its grip like sharp talons piercing his guts.
“She will not be pleased, and you may not survive.” Marcelle turned and drifted back into the mist. The wolf rose and silently padded after him.
The hunter knew he had spoken with a demon, and now must deliver a message to one many called witch. He hoped his Gods would forgive these trespasses and keep him safe.
Fiction © Copyright Stacey Turner
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Stacey Turner:

Morbid Metamorphosis: Terrifying Tales of Transformation

Metamorphosis occurs every day as caterpillars become sweet fluttering butterflies, tadpoles become gorgeous frog princes and chameleons become one with the beauty of nature – but you won’t find any of that here.

The transformations you’re about to witness are unnatural, sometimes gruesome and deeply psychological. They will make you question reality and take your mind places it was never meant to go.

Terrifying Tales of Transformation from Greg Chapman * Roy C. Booth & R. Thomas Riley * Terri DelCampo * Dave Gammon * Nancy Kilpatrick * Rod Marsden * Jo-Anne Russell * M.J. Preston * Stacey Turner * Tina Piney * Suzanne Robb * Franklin E. Wales * Donna Marie West * Suzie Lockhart * Cameron Trost * Daniel I. Russell * Simon Dewar * Amanda J. Spedding * Ken MacGregor * Erin Shaw * Gregory L. Norris * Nickolas Furr

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


Foundation

by A.F. Stewart

Together. We built this house together. Stone and mortar, bone and blood.
Each one of you contributed so much. Gave all of yourself to make it a home. I remember your adoring eyes, the joy when I brought you here to see the foundations of our new house. Three times, and three beautiful women, standing in the moonlight on the edge of our new life, basking in the promise of love I swore to every one of you.
Then came the shock as the knife slipped between your ribs. I held each of you as you died, as your last breath exhaled. That’s what I said in my vows to you all, until death do us part. I  consecrated the foundation in your lifeblood, built the house over all your remains. Three bodies, three souls, three wives. I mourned and made this house a monument to you.
Yet, not even in death have you left me. No, you are still here in our house, in the stone, in the mortar. Sometimes at night, I can see your hollow eyes staring at me and hear your voices whispering in the dark. I smile. We will always be a family.
Together.
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 Lydia Prime @LydiaPrime @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Sticks and Stones
by Lydia Prime

Sticks and stones and cob webbed bones resting in the corner;
a house that creaks and ghosts who shriek that never had a mourner.
Spirits moving, echoes heard, while vermin scurry out of sight,
a dare, a pact, the bravest child will go inside tonight.
Flashlights in shaking hands of the innocent little boys,
the inhabitants of the house are pleased to see chubby new toys.
At first a light flickers on, strange noises heard from below,
shadows moving all around, and from the dark are eyes aglow.
Crying kids are music to an old crypt such as this,
sticks and stones and cob webbed bones revel in terrifying bliss.
Fiction © Copyright Lydia Prime
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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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. 

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


What Really Happened to Hansel and Gretel
by Terrie Leigh Relf

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Gretel. She’d had a brother once. Hans. Supposedly, Hansel and Gretel were abandoned in the woods by their father (because their wicked stepmother wanted them out of the house). While wandering about the woods, dropping breadcrumbs to leave a trail, the two children came upon  a cottage. The kindly woman who came to the door eventually turned out to be a witch, and a quite unpleasant one at that. She worked Gretel to the bone while fattening up Hans to eat him.
But you know how fairy tales go . . . That’s definitely not the real, or perhaps I should say, “true,” story.
Here’s what really happened . . .
Gretel had always been “a bit touched,” as the old village folk used to say. When her mother died giving birth to her brother, Hans, their father was beside himself with grief. A local widow brought them delicious meals and fussed over the new baby and him until he asked for her hand. Of course she accepted, as it took only moments for the widow to realize that while she had always vowed to remain single, there were several benefits to being legally wed. Furthermore, Gretel was a witch in need of training and the baby would nurture her maternal instincts, which were, of course, abysmal.
She couldn’t have been more wrong. . .
Gretel’s father thought it odd how his new wife barely acknowledged Gretel, whom he deeply loved. He also thought it odd how his son, named Hans after his own father, failed to thrive. Fortunately, Gretel took over the role of nursemaid for her young brother and he became a healthier and somewhat sturdy boy.
This is about the time Gretel shed her first blood and became a young woman. Her stepmother finally began to pay her more attention and plotted her training.
Gretel, however, would have nothing to do with her stepmother or her wicked ways. For you see, her stepmother practiced the dark arts, while Gretel had always been of the light . . . a white witch like her mother who had died due to a spell cast by the very woman who became her stepmother.
This is where the story becomes even more interesting. Gretel, unbeknownst to her stepmother, had received her mother’s powers as soon as she breathed her last. At first blood, these powers quickened, much to Gretel’s joy. It was ever so amongst their line.
What was even more wonderful was that Gretel’s mother began to visit from the other side, whispering spells and incantations into her ear while she slept at night and took care of this and that throughout the day. Gretel’s mother guided her to plants and trees with healing properties, and showed her how to ward off the evil that was her stepmother so she could release her father from the binding spell.
After all, Father never would have abandoned his children in the woods if his new wife hadn’t compelled him to do so with the dark arts, right?
Now that Gretel was coming into her power, it was time to begin a new chapter in their lives. Remember the beginning of the story where it was said that Gretel had had a brother once? Well, she really did . . . until her evil stepmother sacrificed him and her father, too, to increase her powers!
You would think that Gretel, especially with her mother’s ever-present guidance, would retaliate in kind. Remember, though, that everyone experiences grief differently and those with powers of love and light may be tempted, but maintain their resolve.
Usually.
And so it came to pass that Gretel and her mother’s spirit found it within themselves to wait until their anger and grief had passed and the time was the most propitious before casting a banishing spell, where they cut the cords that bound the stepmother’s evil deeds to them, Hans, and Father. In so doing, the wicked stepmother received the full force of the light . . . her powers dissolving in its wake.
She wanders the woods still, Gretel. Perhaps you’ve seen her? Some say she wanders the woods in spirit, visiting with her parents and brother, Hands. Others believe that she stands vigil, protecting all that enter the woods from evil.
Then again, this may be just another fairy tale.
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 Rie Sheridan Rose @RieSheridanRose @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


Counting Crows
by Rie Sheridan Rose

We watch this glade, the crows and me, and Rufus. There’s something hidden in the trees behind me, but I don’t have any call to know what it is, so I don’t speculate. I see you standing there in the shadows, your armor shiny new, your sword sharp enough to split hairs. You think that I am an old fool with a magic blade to add to your collection. You think that I would fall easily and you could pillage the grove at your leisure. You’d take me out first, then the wolf…fool.
Rufus has been here a thousand, thousand years, and I’ve got a few under my belt as well. We’ve seen you bright young things come and go. If you have any sense, you’ll heed my advice—turn around and go. We won’t follow. We will gladly watch you depart. One less soul to grieve.
I told you, Rufus. This is another of those determined to make their own name. Look, he’s got his little sword drawn, and thinks that is a powerful stance.
Go home, boy. Last warning.
All right, Rufus. The rest is yours. The soul is gathered. I have no need of the blood bag and bones.
Welcome to your new life, son. Another guardian in our haunted glade. This is your existence now. Speak to the other crows. They will fill you in.
No one ever puts it together. No one ever counts the crows and tallies up the missing. What do you think we do with the souls?
Fiction © Copyright Rie Sheridan Rose
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 Bailey Hunter @DarkRecesses @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


Paying for Pride
by Bailey Hunter

When you misuse someone the way Seline does, eventually it has to come back on you.  At least that’s what Larry told himself as he watched her walk out the door, his pride tucked neatly in her back pocket. Of course, it had yet to be proven.
Larry pulled back the bandages for another look at Seline’s handiwork.  How many more times could they do this?  How many until it was too much, or, not enough?  One thing was for certain, the demand for answers was pounding hard against his skull and he’d have to put a stop to it soon.
The room started shifting. Dirty walls faded into fuzzy umber shades as the familiar chill spread across his limbs.  Soon, he thought, but not yet.
“Hey lover,” Seline’s voice broke through the white noise that had been carving bitter secrets on the inside of his skull. “Time to wake up and put you back right.”
Larry rolled over; the bloody bandage having dried and fused with the faux leather couch tore a yelp from his mouth, along with a fair piece of his flesh.
“Careful, baby,” Seline cooed. “You’re no good to me if you can’t be fixed.
“We have to stop,” Larry mumbled as she eased the old dressings off. “I…I don’t think…”
“No, you don’t. You gave me your word. You made a deal, remember?  You wanted it, and now you’ve got it, baby. Guess you shouldn’t have let your pride run you.  Besides, you only have another decade left and then you can go.  A deal’s a deal.  You hold up your end, and I’ll hold up mine.” Seline’s voice barely contained her malicious glee as she pointed out his sentence.
Larry closed his eyes and let out a long, slow sigh as the Succubus reattached his genitals for the 32,850th time.  He learned to stop asking what she did with them while they were gone, but sometimes, she’d lay beside him as he healed and whisper it to him anyway.
Just more white noise carving secrets into his skull.
Fiction © Copyright Bailey Hunter
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
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More about Bailey Hunter:
Bailey is a publisher with Dark Recesses Press.


Dark Recesses Press is a publishing house dedicated to providing high quality dark fiction in its many forms to the reader. Our end goal is to impress and entertain, no matter what dark recesses we dare shine our light on.

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 Elizabeth H. Smith @bethsmithwrites @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Temptation
by Elizabeth H. Smith

Sallow, deep-set eyes stared at the pale remnants of home. A dour expression accompanied tired feet to the doorstep. He didn’t knock, only opened the door without hesitation. Not expecting much to be left, a slight curve of the lips came when he saw most of the furniture was still in its place. Layers of dust brought somber thoughts but still comforted the heart—nothing had been abused in his absence.
He wondered how long it might take the rest of his family to arrive, after all, they departed before him. He wondered if perhaps they were already there, hiding, desperate, afraid. He didn’t know if the dead could kill the dead, but he couldn’t resist the temptation to do it again.
Fiction © Copyright Elizabeth H. Smith
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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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.

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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!

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Naughty Alice
K.R. Morrison

“Oh, you have got to be kidding.”
Alice blinked the sleep out of her eyes and gazed around at where she had found herself.
A moment ago, she had been firmly ensconced in her bed, sound asleep. And now here she was, in the middle of a road through a dark forest. Small animal noises disrupted what was otherwise an intense silence.
She looked down at herself—yep, not even dressed in her blue dress and pinafore. Nothing on her feet either. Nothing but her night dress. Or, rather, the Institution’s idea of night clothes. They looked a lot like the day clothes, at least in her part of the world. But she remembered the blue dress, the black shoes, and the white pinafore.
“You could have at least dressed me for this trip,” she grumbled. “Oh well, let’s see where we are.”
She started down the road, which in the moonlight shone with a pale gold color. She peered closer—were those bricks?
Suddenly she had the weird urge to skip. So she did.
On her left, the trees suddenly changed to a different scenario. Instead of tall pine trees, she was now facing an orchard of apple trees. The trunks were odd—each tree looked as if it had a scowling face engraved on it.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” she mumbled to herself. Well, if she could believe that she had had an intelligent conversation with a worm, anything was possible.
Dead set in the middle of the orchard was a cabin. The door hung open; in Alice’s world, that was an invitation to explore. So she did.
There wasn’t a lot inside except a store of oil in flasks and a lot of rust remover. Alice checked out every last nook and cranny; she remembered her friend Goldilocks telling her about so much treasure in such places—if one was fast enough. Nothing here though.
As she stepped back out of the cabin, Alice accidentally stepped off the path. Such screeching from flowers and grasses, insulted mightily that she had put a foot on their backs!
“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” Alice said to herself. Then she shook her head.
Kansas? What was that?
“I do believe that’s my line.”
A girl about her age, dressed in blue gingham, stepped in front of her. She had a frown on her face and a huge scarecrow at her side. He looked to Alice as if he didn’t have a lot of brains, but who was she to judge? After all, chess pieces had at one time tried to rule her life. You never knew.
Alice gave the newcomer her own brand of frown, which included a large showing of teeth—not all of them normal. The Institution had no sway over her here—if it did, she would have felt it by now. Any other time she had left, she’d always felt an invisible cord drawing her back. She felt more free than she had felt in years—ever since her family had decided that she was safer in a padded room.
Instead of restriction, she felt a freedom that she had not felt in years. She was not about to ask any questions, for fear that the illusion might disappear and she would find herself in her little room again, under the leather bindings.
Without a second thought, she lunged at the girl in gingham. The scarecrow just hung back, a useless idiot, while Alice pulled Dorothy to pieces.
Then she dressed in the blue gingham, looped her arm in the Scarecrow’s, and skipped down the road to wherever they had been going.
The tin man never had a chance to be removed from his spot. He simply whined as they disappeared over a hill.
Fiction © Copyright K.R. Morrison
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Author K.R. Morrison:

Be Not Afraid (Pride’s Downfall Vol 1)

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

Available on Amazon!

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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!


A Necromance
by Lori R. Lopez

The Necromancer harnessed silver out of moonlight,
Gath’ring power in an ancient grotto’s keep,
Where none might witness occult incantations;
A pagan rite to fetch souls from the deep.
Within the nether reaches of this grim wooded veil
Strode a revenant silent in a long ragged hood,
Boasting layers of robes and the marks of brutal victories;
A figure of mystery, more devil than good.
Inhabiting a realm between the light and the darkness,
A void neither flesh nor eternal depths of sleep,
He consulted the Arcanum to extract his killblade.
Then bowed before the one who from death did reap . . .
“The Hand Of Fate!” his foes respectfully whispered.
None could defeat what was destined to unfold —
Till he met an even rival; such a beauty was she,
That moment of wonder locked him in a stranglehold.
Unable to defend; the target of a dagger thrust,
He timbered like an Oak and it echoed all around.
His heart would bear a wound from a worthy adversary,
Who weakened sturdy knees and cut him to the ground.
A Knight had failed his sworn allegiance, the challenge lost,
And with it his breath for she claimed a brave life.
Monk-like, the skilled assassin battled out of honor
Whene’er his King demanded. A man without wife.
The champion would fall, yet he wore a glad visage,
Almost seeming to welcome this stunning demise.
The victor of the bout sent his corpse to be honored,
Proclaiming herself a Queen’s little surprise.
Now the wielder he must serve, like a magickal Jinn,
Dutybound to heed the wishes of a cloaked spellcaster —
The gaunt warrior wraith; a phantom of Nocturne,
Summoned from his tomb by a newly crowned master.
Raven spirits did he beckon; a canine familiar,
Companions that once trailed him through fog and storm.
Another purpose drew the Knight to this haunted forest,
Resurrected from the grave in a menacing form.
He had lain an eternity of dim forgotten dreams,
The cage that once held his heart aching to throb.
Time would fill its cavity with anguish and desire
To spy again those features that caused a beast to sob.
The mission was announced, his command stated clear:
Destroy a paladin who waits beyond the trees!
Across a field beneath stars tramped the gruesome specter,
Renamed at this hour The Sword Of Damocles . . .
A hero’s lot no tranquil bed of roses and fruits,
Ever bound to face slaughter, be it soon or late;
And without true reward, such a man was a fool.
He had forgotten to live, or to wear a breastplate.
So haughty and bold, assured of each triumph,
His vanity cost every hope that gives meaning.
But a cold nap furnished hindsight along with regret;
He must wring this chance of its final gleaning —
As a King faced his Queen, who revealed her best:
Risen from the sarcophagus, freshly unwrapped;
Not a day over three hundred, buried in her prime,
A legendary fighter. The audience clapped.
“We meet again,” she disarmed. “Do you remember?”
The voice brought a shiver. “How could I forget?”
Opponents well-matched though her outfit less baggy,
They squared off for combat — a bloodless duet.
Like a ghostly game of Chess, slowly they circled,
Near and then apart, the steps a cautious dance.
She had dreamt of him too in her lonely coffin;
The pair became tangled in a necromance.
He bared a chest scarred, already conquered by charm,
Yet his lady could not repeat their previous duel.
They kissed while her sword united two souls . . .
And shared one funeral bed, a Princess and her fool.
Fiction © Copyright Lori R. Lopez
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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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!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Lydia Prime @LydiaPrime @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Hunting 
by Lydia Prime

Deceptive features that show an unnatural ability to feel. Chiseled by the hand of God himself perhaps, or better still, the hand of something so much darker. Whispers float above the heads of travelers near and far, mocking and judging as she watches. The grinding of rocky joints and suddenly her quiet form is that of a huntress ready for her prey.
No longer dormant, her skin is supple and lips plump. Stony remnants fall away with each step into dusty heaps, marble eyes are the only feature to stay; a tell for a fair chance, as though victims of hers rarely deserve such graces. She saunters from her alabaster home and greets the unsuspecting. A motion with her hips and a quick smirk brings him in, he follows her as she leads him to a most divine and secluded spot. They dance across the ruins of a fallen land until he reaches a bit too low for her liking. She pulls away and he holds tight.
“You’re a lucky lady,” he chides. “You’ll enjoy this.” He pulls her arms above her head with just one hand and looks into her eyes for the first time. He notices something isn’t right and her smirk returns spreading wider as her marble eyes begin to glow. Flesh bubbles and melts away before there’s a chance to scream. She dines on his soul, so mangled and wrought with darkness. Satisfied for the evening she pushes the bony figure aside and strides back to her place among the others.
Fiction © Copyright Lydia Prime
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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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. 

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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 6 Comments