Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author D.M. Slate @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on March 22, 2018 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Father
by D.M. Slate

You delivered me to this gruesome destiny, abandoning your only child without even the slightest glance back over your shoulder.
I cried out as you left and I attempted to follow you, but the orderlies restrained my arms and dragged me into the depths of this hell.
An embarrassment – that’s what you called me… but I never intended to bring about any discomposure.
Unladylike, headstrong, brash, and presumptuous. All terms you’d use in your fits of anger.
You never came for a single visit, nor inquired about my wellbeing. As much anger as I had burning in my soul, I still hoped every day that you’d appear.
But you never did.
For twenty-three years I was held hostage in this prison, constantly being told that I was unwell.
Screams of traumatized patients echoed off the walls and carried down the endless corridors. The sounds eventually merged into a symphony of misery, playing in my head each day.
At some point I began to covet death, seeing it as my only true escape from this madness.
But I’d been wrong.
Even death couldn’t free me from this confinement.
Fiction © Copyright D.M. Slate
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from D.M. Slate:

Roots of Deceit

Fueled by the underlying currents of her daughter’s death, Gianna vows to unravel the mystery surrounding the foreboding apparition who keeps making appearances in her new home, but she’s not prepared for the grisly trail of clues that’ll unfold before her; testing not only her sanity, but her guilty conscience as well.

Zack and Gianna call on a team of paranormal investigators to start them in the right direction, and after the initial terror of the ghost’s presence begins to dull, Gianna finds herself sucked into a web of deception, lies and murder, as the ultimate questions are posed: who is the terrifying pale-faced ghost, and what does she want? As the secrets of the past reach their gnarled fingers out beyond the grave, grasping firmly onto Gianna’s soul, she starts to suspect her only neighbor, old farmer Peterson, of committing the unthinkable crime.

But finding evidence to prove a twenty-three year old murder is more difficult than Gianna anticipated, and when the ghost gets tired of waiting, she takes matters into her own hands; at which time the distinction between the two women begins to blur…

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 Lori Safranek @SafranekLori @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on March 22, 2018 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Say Hi to the Man
by Lori Safranek

“Mommy, mommy!” her son called from far away.
Nancy was changing a flat on her old clunker, a gray 1995 Ford Taurus that was the only thing she could afford when her last piece of junk car died.
“Mom!” Tanner shouted again.
Finally it dawned on his mother just how far away he sounded. She stood up quickly and looked around. Of course she’d get stranded right in the middle of the damn swamp, with Tanner along. He moved like a dragonfly, flitting from place to place, nearly impossible to catch up with. The swamp smell, green and rotten and earthy and wet, always scared Nancy, and with the heat, the scent was intense.
And there was her six-year-old, standing on the old, crumbling bridge looking down on the fetid water below.
“Tanner, get off that bridge right now!” she screamed, already running toward him. How had he wandered so far away? The spare was still inside the trunk; she was still working on getting the lug nuts loose. Tanner was waving her on, a big smile on his face.
“C’mon, Mom, someone’s waving at me!” he said with all the delight of any kid making a new friend. Nancy groaned. Damn, Tanner, stranger danger! Didn’t you listen to me when I warned you?
She finally reached her boy and tugged him away from the edge of the bridge. She gave him a quick hug when she saw his crestfallen look.
“Head on back and keep an eye on the car, Tanner. I’ll say hi to this man, okay?”
The smile was back and Tanner the dragonfly flitted back toward the car, intent on another adventure.
Nancy peered over the edge of the bridge.
The water under the bridge was nearly covered with green algae. The smell hit her first and she wrinkled her nose. Then she saw the waving hand.
It was sticking out of the water. Just that one hand, waving gently, like a bit of reed, swaying with the breeze and the movement of the quiet waves. The hand was black and dark green, decayed. Even from this distance, Nancy could see a dull metallic ring around the third finger of the hand.
Nancy sighed and her shoulders drooped.
Damn, he’s back.
Fiction © Copyright Lori Safranek
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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More from Lori Safrenek:

lorisafranek_freakedoutFreaked Out: The Complete Freak Show Series

Freak Show is a collection of short stories based on the adventures of performers from Steiners Freak Show, a traveling circus side show. Steiner carefully selects his freaks so that they are genuinely blessed with real talents, none of his performers are fakes! From the lovely young Snake Charmer to the Tattooed Man whose tattoos fade away and relocate themselves on his body, every single one is the real thing! And Steiner’s family of freaks run into some frightening adventures that bring them near death! This isn’t some barker’s come on, folks, this is the real thing. Come to the freak show and see what happens after the sideshow closes!

Available on Amazon!

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

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

Posted on March 21, 2018 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


Light in the Window
by Marge Simon

Dream a memory of clouds that chase the moon, of winds outside a house that knew a devastating war.
On the second floor, a window lights, silhouetting the form of a seated woman in a long dress. Her head is bowed low, her hands clasped as if in prayer.  A tree bough bends and breaks. Soon it’s swept by gusts to rest against a tombstone in the family plot.
The inscription on the stone is weathered and pock-marked by Minie balls. From this grave, a phantom rises in the wind. Not of this world, the wind does not affect its composition– a confederate soldier missing an arm, his uniform in shreds.
Above, the woman’s shadow rises and looks out the window. She touches her lips as she waves a handkerchief before floating down to join him.
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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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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

Posted on March 21, 2018 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Instaham
by Lydia Prime

When the final curtain falls…
Applause is a deafening sound…
Crystal often explored abandoned locations: homes, psych wards, prisons; you name it. She had a tremendous following on social media. Some might say she had a bit of a selfie addiction as her camera was never out of reach. Of course there would be images of the places she went… but she was always in them. Most of her followers commented on how she looked, not the particulars of the locale.
One evening, Crystal walked into an open field and began documenting a long awaited foray. As she approached the densely wooded area ahead, she launched a live streaming cast of her outing so her fans could not only watch, but converse with her through online comments as she went.
In the comments section, a post from Dustin769 popped-up: Don’t go.
She responded loudly and mockingly, as did her legion of fans in the comment section.
Once she arrived at the house she was visiting that night, she showed the audience that it was clearly boarded up with a DO NOT ENTER sign displayed on the door. Crystal smiled and winked at her phone, “To be continued.” She intoned as she ended the live stream and walked up the rickety steps to the boarded over entry. I ain’t afraid of no ghosts! she sang to herself as she tugged away at the boards. Luckily, they were loose. She pulled them down and reached for the sign. The door began to creak open. Oh, how horror cliché! Maybe Oogie will get me! Crystal scoffed as she shook her phone to turn on the flashlight app, re-launched her feed, and stepped inside. She wandered around snapping selfies, showing off with the long forgotten debris in the house.
As soon as she approached the stairwell, a strange buzzing noise began coming from the second floor.
Another comment from Dustin769: Don’t go up there.
She rolled her eyes and decided to investigate. A soft glow emanated from one of the rooms to the left of the upper landing. There can’t possibly be electricity in here, she thought.
Crystal entered the room and found a busted, ancient TV on a stand. White noise was all that appeared on its screen. She shuffled around in the odd light while she tried to find the power source – nothing. When she looked again, there was a figure wavering in and out of view. What the fuck?
Dustin769: I warned you!!!
She reached out to touch the screen. As her fingers grazed the glass, it began to bend, almost warble as it seemed to melt away. The dark figure that was wavering on the screen earlier snatched her arm, and with inhuman strength, pulled her through the fluctuating surface. She was soon trapped behind the glass.
Dustin walked into the room and took a final snapshot of Crystal as she thrashed against the screen from the reverse side. He knew she’d want her followers to see that she was finally on TV.
Applause is a deafening sound.
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 , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

The Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Naching T. Kassa @NachingKassa @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on March 20, 2018 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Death’s Gift
by Naching T. Kassa

“Where did you serve?” the young man asked. His words echoed in the dim firelight.
Jed avoided his eyes and stared into the burn barrel before him. A breeze, colder than the breath of death, swept through the arch under the bridge and through his ragged clothing. He shivered as he drew close to the dying fire.
“Served in ‘Nam,” he said.
“I thought so. You’ve got the long stare. I was in Iraq. Two tours.”
Jed nodded.
“The name’s Oliver. What’s yours?”
“Jed.”
“Good to meet you.”
He held out a hand but Jed didn’t take it.
“I should’ve stayed in Iraq,” the young man continued. He adjusted his stained baseball cap, then rubbed his hands together and held them out to the tiny flames. “Would’ve been better than this.”
“Anything’s better than this. There’s no more fuel. This fire won’t last the night.”
“Do you mind the smell of death?”
Jed shook his head. “Nope. In the army, I woke up to it every morning. Went to bed with it at night.”
“There’s a house nearby and it’s warm. I sleep there most nights. People won’t go there because of the smell. You wanna come?”
The damp chill reached through Jed’s flesh and into his bones. Pain pierced.
“Like I said, anything’s better than this.”
The two men collected their meager belongings and extinguished the fire. Jed shouldered his pack and followed the young man. They left the bridge and melted into the fog which covered the empty streets.
“You alright?” Oliver asked. “You’re limping.”
“I’m ok.”
“We’ll be there soon. Then, you can rest.”
Five minutes later, they stepped out of the fog and arrived at their destination. The building loomed above them, illuminated by the glow of a single street lamp.
“It used to be a funeral home,” the young man said. “But, it stopped being one six months ago. I’m not sure why they closed it down.”
Oliver opened a window and a miasma of formaldehyde and death assaulted their nostrils.
“Believe it or not, you get used to it.”
He climbed inside and the locked door clicked. Seconds later, it swung open.
“Come on in.”
Jed limped inside.
“Sorry, we can’t light a fire,” Oliver said as he led Jed down the hall. “I don’t want to attract cops.”
Windows lined the left side of the hallway, admitting faint light from the streetlamp, while doors lined the hall on the right.
“Why are there so many doors?” Jed said. “It looks more like an apartment building than a funeral home.”
He opened one door and peered inside.
A human leg lay in the middle of the floor. A human arm lay nearby.
Jed stared at them for several seconds. The more he focused on them, the clearer they became. He realized their sheen was not at all like human skin. It was plastic.
“Prosthetics?” Jed said.
“I see a lot of weird stuff in these rooms,” Oliver remarked. “I usually sleep in the hallway.”
Jed closed the door and crossed to the nearest window. He dropped his pack to the floor and pulled his blanket from it.
“Can I ask you a question?” Oliver said as he too prepared his bed.
“Depends on what it is.”
“Is there a reason you won’t look me in the eye?”
Jed paused. “No.”
“You act like you’re ashamed.”
“Maybe, I am. Or, maybe, I find your watch more interesting.”
The young man covered his left wrist and the gold watch on it.
“A man with a watch like that shouldn’t be on the streets. Why are you here, Oliver?”
He turned away and his features were lost in shadow.
“They said I was crazy,” he said at last. “Tried to institutionalize me.”
“Who?”
“The army. My family.”
“Post-traumatic—“
Oliver shook his head. “Not that. Something happened in Iraq. She…she gave me a gift.”
“A woman?”
“No. Death.”
The young man’s body trembled. He settled on his bedding and faced Jed.
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No.”
Jed looked up into Oliver’s face for the first time.
“You’re not the only one with…a talent. It happens a lot. A man goes to war with five senses and comes back with a sixth.”
“She gave you a gift, didn’t she?”
Jed’s heart sped up.
“You got a gift from death too.”
“It wasn’t a gift. It was a curse.”
Light played over the young man’s face and the transparent skull superimposed upon it. Jed averted his eyes from the sight.
“That’s why you won’t look me in the eye. Tell me. What did you see?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Did you see my future?”
“I can’t tell you. Knowing changes nothing.”
“You saw my past,” Oliver said. “You know what I did.”
He clenched his fists, rose to his feet, and approached the doorway opposite. Once there, he pulled something from his pocket. Words appeared on the wall beside it as he moved the spray can over it. Jed couldn’t make out what they said. He didn’t know the language.
“You’re a nice guy, Jed. But, you know too much. I wanted to let you go. I could’ve found another sacrifice.”
He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. The skull over his face grinned too.
“Death expects one every time I summon her. I’ve found she prefers the disabled. She found my father delicious.”
The windows suddenly blew open and a mist entered the hall. It coalesced above them, filling the room with a cold born of the grave.
“The watch and the prosthetics. They came from the sacrifices.”
“Yes. The watch was my father’s. You should’ve seen his face when Death bit him in half.”
From within the mist, an enormous face appeared. High cheekbones, full lips, and dark eyes created an impression of unsurpassed beauty. Her eyes fell upon Jed.
“I’m sorry,” Oliver said.
Jed’s eyes remained on the woman’s face. She smiled and her lips parted.
“No need to apologize,” Jed said. “My death hasn’t come. Yours, however…”
The woman turned. Before Oliver could move, she fell upon him. He shrieked.
Jed’s eyes fell to the floor.
She hummed while she chewed. When she had finished, he turned his gaze on her.
“You’re not death,” he said.
She floated forward and hovered over him.
“You know death so well?”
“I won’t make that claim.”
“Every man has his death. I am yours.”
“Maybe.”
“A certainty.”
Jed smiled. “No. It’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“Death can’t die.”
The woman’s face frowned beneath the transparent skull which covered it.
Fiction © Copyright Naching T. Kassa
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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More from Naching T. Kassa:


Final Masquerade

It’s the Final Masquerade and it’s your turn to dance.

The evening is ending and the guests are ready to leave, but the final event of the evening is just beginning — the unmasking.

Welcome to Final Masquerade where no one is who they seem.

Stories written by Daniel I. Russell * Ken MacGregor * J.C. Delisle * Joshua Chaplinsky * Lori Safranek * D.S. Ullery * Samantha Lienhard * Thomas Kleaton * Josh Strnad * Naching T. Kassa * Roy C. Booth & Axel Kohagen * Sheldon Woodbury * Craig Steven * Gregory L. Norris * Jay Eales * Dale W. Glaser * R.K. Kombrinck * Jonathan Cromack * Brian C. Baer * Adrian Chamberlin

Available on Amazon!

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Selah Janel @SelahJanel @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on March 20, 2018 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

A Mermaid’s Wait
by Selah Janel

The rains bring life, the rains bring damage. It’s always been that way. Sometimes, though, the rains bring other things, too, things besides debris and mud and property damage. Waters sweep through deep-hidden caves and crevices after all. Water revitalizes. It wakes things up, things that were thought to long be gone from human memory, extinct from dreams.
The seas covered all, once. They were our home and how we lived and frolicked and feasted and woe to any creature that got in our way. Then the world changed, our home draining away bit by bit until there was no place for us to go but into fiction and memory, sometimes dirt and fossil if we were particularly unlucky.
And those hidden places. We went to those hidden places, too, waiting for when the waters would come to flush us out again, out into a world that had forgotten us, that had rewritten us as singers of sweet songs and seducers of those who would dare build crafts to conquer the seas.
How time forgets. Although maybe it doesn’t. How many mothers warn their children to stay away from still water after a flood…how many people huddle away from the water until it recedes?
Pity them when it doesn’t. The waters tease us out, but they also whisper of the past, the present, and the future. Our time will come again, our time to hunt as much as we wish, our time to drag flailing weak creatures under the waves and watch them twitch among the downed trees, their cries muffled by the spattering rain on the water’s surface. We can still taste how sweet the meat and blood was on the tongue, can still remember the snapping of bones – we’ve worked it into our songs, after all. If you listen very close when it thunders, when a storm truly lets loose, you may hear us. If we want you to, you will listen. You won’t be able to ignore the call. No one can when we want to meet them or when we are hungry.
All will join us below the waterline soon enough, if the trickling streams are to be believed, and they have yet to be wrong.
The waters will come, and they will grow, filling up the world, bringing us with them.
And then…then everyone will remember why they all fled from the water’s edge in the first place.
Fiction © Copyright Selah Janel
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Author Selah Janel:

Olde School – The Kingdom City Chronicles Book 1

Kingdom City has moved into the modern era. Run by a lord mayor and city council (though still under the influence of the High King of The Land), it proudly embraces a blend of progress and tradition. Trolls, ogres, and other Folk walk the streets with humans, but are more likely to be entrepreneurs than cause trouble. Princesses still want to be rescued, but they now frequent online dating services to encourage lords, royals, and politicians to win their favor. The old stories are around, but everyone knows they’re just fodder for the next movie franchise. Everyone knows there’s no such thing as magic. It’s all old superstition and harmless tradition.

Bookish, timid, and more likely to carry a laptop than a weapon, Paddlelump Stonemonger is quickly coming to wish he’d never put a toll bridge over Crescent Ravine. While his success has brought him lots of gold, it’s also brought him unwanted attention from the Lord Mayor. Adding to his frustration, Padd’s oldest friends give him a hard time when his new maid seems inept at best and conniving at worst. When a shepherd warns Paddlelump of strange noises coming from Thadd Forest, he doesn’t think much of it. Unfortunately for him, the history of his land goes back further than anyone can imagine. Before long he’ll realize that he should have paid attention to the old tales and carried a club.

Darkness threatens to overwhelm not only Paddlelump, but the entire realm. With a little luck, a strange bird, a feisty waitress, and some sturdy friends, maybe, just maybe, Padd will survive to eat another meal at Trip Trap’s diner. It’s enough to make the troll want to crawl under his bridge, if he can manage to keep it out of the clutches of greedy politicians.

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 Asena Lourenco @ElaLourenco @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction #WiHM9

Posted on February 28, 2018 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


Fair Lady
by Asena Lourenco

As I crept around the abandoned derelict mansion I saw a fair lady standing as still as a rock. Tiptoeing slowly towards her, a sudden electric vibration blazed down my spine to my legs and then towards my feet. I realised that I was stuck. A cold breeze blew in my face.
I gasped as I saw the lady’s body slowly disappear. A golden glow floated around her as she vanished into thin air. That is when it struck me… I was next…
Fiction © Copyright Asena Lourenco
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More about Asena Lourenco:

Asena Lourenco is 10 years old. She loves reading, playing Scottish traditional fiddle music on her violin, dancing, and martial arts as well as writing her own stories.

She would like to be a teacher and writer when she grows up. She also loves cats and babies!

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Be sure to check out the other fantastic events and people participating in
Women in Horror Month 9

WomenInHorrorMonth.com

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Lori R. Lopez @LoriRLopez @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction #WiHM9

Posted on February 28, 2018 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


Unnatural Disasters
by Lori R. Lopez

Anabelle was chosen for being special,
but every girl had been told that,
a waiting room full of them.
With her it turned out to be true . . .
“You’re next.”  A stern female tone
summoned her and she stood, as if facing
a schoolmistress, waved into a second room by
the nurse as if she could have been anyone.
She couldn’t, though.  Doctor Horne
specifically wanted special girls.
“I am delighted to meet you, little lady.
Tell me why you are here.”
A tall man.  Imposing.  A taker.
The kind who treated others badly.
Anabelle knew this in advance, sensed it,
yet meekly entered the chamber.
Climbing on a table, her gaze low.
Vulnerable in a drafty gown.
Curious.  She wanted to know why as well.
“Mama sent me.  I’m a handful.”
“That isn’t how she described it.
What the registration form indicates.
You are more than a mere handful,
aren’t you?”  He bent eye to eye.
Anabelle nodded.  The doctor’s orbs
glittered, his features sharp.  Vicious.
“I want to see!” hissed the fellow.
It belonged to her.  “No.”
An obstinate whisper of rebuke.
Jaws clenched, Ana strained to resist.
Activating a machine, the scientist
rolled it toward her.  A meter spiked.
Anabelle stared at the dial.
Rigid, a thin child restrained her gift.
A pair of tight fists bled unnoticed.
Horne waited.  Greedily.
The “little lady” discerned the tall man
meant to capture what made her unique.
This room was filled with equipment.
The table had metal cuffs.
“You’re not special.”  Curt rejection.
He shut off the device.  “Next!”  A decree.
The words stung.  She couldn’t help it.
She was only a kid.  She had feelings.
“Don’t you mean next victim?”
Somewhere a window shattered.  Voices
exclaimed in alarm or fright.  A shock rattled.
Cracks fissured the ceiling and floor.
From her depths rose a column of
anger, a whirling funnel of pure wrath.
As much as she despised the doctor,
being examined by so many like him . . .
She hated being dismissed even more.
Not special?  Anabelle intended to show
how very precious and important she was!
Her cyclone diced, wielding bits of glass.
Staining.  A blast of raw emotion
cast a wave through the clinic.
The nurse smacked a wall, a broken doll.
Girls fled.  She sat quietly.
As she always did in the aftermath.
Until Mother came to retrieve her.
Rescue her.  And scold.  “You promised.
I don’t know what to do with you!”
Anabelle rode in the backseat.
“I’m sorry, Mama.  Please forgive me.”
“You say you are, and then you do this.
I can’t understand it, baby!  Why?”
The terrible sobbing had to end.
Her mom would get it together and
calmly drive home.  In the morning they
could start fresh — somewhere new.
And nobody spoke of her.  Baffled.
Stunned or sympathetic.  The conniptions
reported as mysterious damage, mayhem,
destruction.  Unnatural disasters.
“It’s okay, Mama.  It’ll be like before.
Just the two of us.  No exam rooms.
No doctors and nurses.  You don’t
need to worry.  I’ll be good this time.”
Fiction © Copyright Lori R. Lopez
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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More from Lori R. Lopez:

Darkverse: The Shadow Hours

A rich gathering of poetry with a dismal twilight atmosphere, a brooding nature, an eerie tone . . .  DARKVERSE:  THE SHADOW HOURS encompasses such pieces written by Lori R. Lopez between 2009 and 2017, collected in three of her Poetic Reflections volumes along with humorous and serious verse.  This ample compendium allows a more focused reading experience and mood — presenting poems that share speculative themes, flashes of horror, glimpses of madness.

Lori is the author of THE DARK MISTER SNARK, LEERY LANE, MONSTROSITIES, AN ILL WIND BLOWS, THE FAIRY FLY, CHOCOLATE-COVERED EYES, JAR BABY, SAMHAIN, 3-Z, and SPIDER SOUP, among other tales.  She has been called a storyteller, whether composing verse or prose.

The aim of her DARKVERSE series is to offer a chilling trek through unlit stretches where all manner of creeps and kooks may lurk; where graveyards and bogs and full-moons abound.  The pages of THE SHADOW HOURS illuminate those morbid uncanny perils and dreads that inhabit drab corners, the known and unknown terrors of the night.  Vivid and distinct, her voice echoes our worst fears then delves beyond, exposing hitherto unimaginable frights.

Prepare to confront a motley array of ghouls and menaces that might just move under your bed.

Look for an Illustrated Print Edition with quirky art by the author.

Available on Amazon!

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Be sure to check out the other fantastic events and people participating in
Women in Horror Month 9

WomenInHorrorMonth.com

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

The Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Stacey Turner @Spot_Speaks @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction #WiHM9

Posted on February 27, 2018 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


The Price of Beauty
by Stacey Turner

Vera assessed the teenage girl who’d just waltzed into the parlor. She supposed the girl was pretty enough, at least under all the face paint.  But her clothes! It seemed fashion consisted of less and less material every year. She smoothed her own skirts and ran a hand over her perfectly coiffed, honey hued tresses. This girl might be pretty, but Vera had been beautiful in her day. All her beaus had told her so, an original even. But the very pride she’d taken in her appearance had been her downfall.
She surveyed the bikini clad teenager as she rubbed coconut scented lotion over her already bronzed skin and wrinkled her nose in distaste. Imagine wanting to be brown as a berry. In her youth, she too had gone to extreme lengths to enhance her image. But then the paler the better was the goal of women of class. And though her almond scented lotion and powder had made her skin wondrous pale—porcelain they’d pronounced the shade—so much arsenic intake had proven deadly. Her death had been proclaimed tragic, and while she’d been infuriated at first, she’d gotten used to her afterlife. She could still catch a glimpse of herself in reflective surfaces now and then. She could appear occasionally, and she could be heard by a select few. She’d spent her time watching the passing parade of characters through her home as time drifted slowly by. Vera figured it was much like observing her own little “reality show” as they dubbed them on the viewing box.
But what Vera knew, and the living seemed not to know, was when Death hovered. The corporeal occupants of the house rarely sensed his looming appearance or their impending demise. She didn’t see, but rather sensed his presence, and what she liked to think of as “the black shroud of doom” which hovered around the soon to be dead. And the girl fairly reeked with the stench the aura left behind. Vera wasn’t sure how she understood, but she did, the coconut lotion somehow related to the teen’s forthcoming departure. She drifted off, in search of a mirror, as the girl rushed from the house, beach towel in hand. Vera gave a ghostly sigh as she theorized that some things never change. Beauty kills.
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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Women in Horror Month 9

WomenInHorrorMonth.com

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Lydia Prime @LydiaPrime @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction #WiHM9

Posted on February 27, 2018 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

November Lillith
by Lydia Prime

Effortlessly beautiful, she was alluring and unique. She shined so fucking bright that the Sun learned envy in her wake. As she strutted through the forest, burning the ground as she went, her face began to crumble and the trees quietly wept. November Lillith was her name, Ember Lilly for short, was nothing less than a monster wrapped in the guise of a goddess. She smirked at passersby, enchanted all of whom she met – but deep inside her hollow core, darkness harnessed major debt. Ember Lilly was no angel, no proper goddess to be worshipped, she required sacrifices, blood oaths, and countless souls for purchase.
She traveled across the continents, when summoned by those special sects. Secret groups, the Cult of Ember beckoned her, offering their sacrificial lambs. She arrived gracefully with skeletal parts shown, a smirk across half her face, as they’d backed away in awe and fear. Ember Lilly exposed her boney fingertips, she plunged them deep inside the fresh meat lying willingly before her. Flayed alive for new skin that Ember would now wear. No more reaper flair to bare and her worshippers gasped at her polished look. She thanked them by killing four more, just for entertainment, then offered up whatever obscene mortal things they’d been requesting.
November Lillith often grew bored of mortals and their plights, but damn did their skin felt good over her immortal bones, if only she could figure out a way to make the flesh last as long as her life.
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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Be sure to check out the other fantastic events and people participating in
Women in Horror Month 9

WomenInHorrorMonth.com

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