The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Life’s Shadow
by Erin Sweet Al-Mehairi

Death thinks it owns me,
but it only comes for me.

In the nights under the giant
oak tree when I sit in the quiet,
chill air pondering life.

Or when I’m walking in
the early mornings,
soaking in the sunrise
and writing poetry in my mind.

Sometimes as I run from the
ticking bomb of stress,
driving my car with the windows
down, wind rustling my long
hair into knots.

It harasses me when I’m reading late
and need to flip the pages backward
to read passages again,
because thoughts of inadequacy
creep inside and won’t leave me.

At the lake, walking on the pier,
it lingers at times so that my
stomach’s queasiness at the depth
of water wafts over like waves
crashing against my soul.

In the forest, when branches
and leaves crunch under my feet,
the solitude lifts the dirt of trauma
from the earth and exposes weakness
and shame.

If I go to the bustling noise of the city,
it watches from hillsides,
knowing its fingers and hands
can reach into any nook and cranny
and stifle momentum with one breath
to the nape of my neck.

Its shadow hovers and waits,
taps my shoulder, gives me anxiety,
and is an obsessive stalker lining up
to the rhythm of my footsteps.

Incessant whispers come
like tendrils of smoke and
weave stealthily among the
memories flashing like slides in
a projector.

I can feel Death’s gray cloak
grace my feet even though I
can’t see it, and in so many places,
in times of dark and light,
it mirrors me.

And yet, its presence inspires me to live
fuller, faster, and without limits,
and I laugh as it loiters by my gravesite,
sitting under the canopy
of an even larger oak tree,
picking petals off the roses it brings me.

Fiction © Copyright Erin Sweet Al-Mehairi
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

More from Erin Sweet Al-Mehairi:

Breath. Breath. 

Breathe. Breathe. is a collection of dark poetry and short fiction exploring the surreal depths of humanity. It’s a representation of how life breaks us apart and words put us back together. Purged onto the pages, dark emotions flow, urging readers into murky seas and grim forests, to the fine line between breathing and death.In Act One, readers are presented with a serial killer in Victorian London, a lighthouse keeper with an eerie legacy, a murderous spouse that seems to have walked right out of a mystery novel, and a treacherous Japanese lady who wants to stay immortal. The heightened fears in the twilight of your minds will seep into the blackest of your nights, where you have to breathe in rhythm to stay alive.
In Act Two, the poetry turns more internal and pierces through the wall of denial and pain, bringing visceral emotions to the surface unleashing traumas such as domestic abuse, violence, and illness.
In the short stories, you’ll meet residents of Valhalla Lane whose lives are on a violent parallel track to collision, a man who is driven mad by the sound of a woodpecker, a teenage girl who wakes up on the beach and can’t find another soul in sight, a woman caught in a time shift pitting her against the Egyptian goddess Anuket, and a little girl whose whole world changes when her favorite dandelion yellow crayon is discontinued.
Amid these pages the haunting themes of oppression, isolation, revenge, and madness unfold through folklore, nightmares, and often times, raw, impulsive passion crafted to sear from the inside out.
With a touching foreword by the Bram Stoker nominated author Brian Kirk, Breathe. Breathe. will at times unsettle you, and at times embrace you. Erin Sweet Al-Mehairi, a veteran writer and editor of the written word, offers up a mixed set of pieces, identifying her as a strong, new voice in dark fiction that will tear the heart from your chest, all the while reminding you to breathe.

Available on Amazon!

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Wrath from on High
by E.A. Black

The first time God put his foot down and ravaged Norwich, Massachusetts, the residents had voted against a referendum to allow a marijuana dispensary to open in town. It wasn’t that God was a pothead, but this was the last straw. The town had voted down a liquor store in favor of allowing a bed and breakfast to serve beer and wine. What got God’s teeth on edge was that the owner of the B&B was the mayor’s son. God frowned upon nepotism, especially since he was personally familiar with how horrid it could turn out. He was also in an especially rotten mood that day because his bunions hurt more than usual.

You would think that God would condemn drug use and alcohol consumption but that was not the case. His word had for too long been misconstrued by preachers with ulterior motives of their own as well as their own cache of Girl Scout Cookies marijuana strains and the most expensive single malt. God generally stayed out of mankind’s hypocrisy but Norwich was his special pet project and he was tired of seeing it go downhill.

There was no warning. No death of the first borns, or plagues of locusts, or a flood. No, his foot simply appeared in the midday sunny sky and descended from the heavens to flatten the First Episcopal Church and City Hall. He left the hookers and blow motel and the casino intact. People ran screaming into the streets, falling to their knees to plead for divine mercy. God was having none of it. Instead of listening to the pleas of the downtrodden, he kicked fire hydrants until the water flowed in the streets. Kids emerged from out of nowhere to play in the water since it was a hot summer day.  God smiled down upon them. They deserved a little joy since the mayor had taken kickbacks from water and sewage, and money pouring into the street was one way to rectify that problem. Then, God’s foot descended from on high again to crush the mayor’s new sailboat and the Governor’s Corvette. He didn’t like it that town officials enjoyed the finer things in life while at the same time they reduced funding for the local food pantry and the schools. God was pissed, and he wasn’t having any of it.

Fiction © Copyright E. A. Black
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

More from E.A. Black:

Zippered Flesh 3

What horror anthology on body enhancements wouldn’t include gross-out fiction? This book has it in spades. But, this collection of stories goes far beyond that. Here you will also find science fiction, surreal fiction, fantasy, and even a full serving of dark humor. Disturbing, perverse, often gut-wrenching (pun intended) stories—all between the covers of this anthology!
Nineteen chilling tales by some of the best horror and suspense writers today. Definitely not for the squeamish!

“Hardcore horror that ranges from the socially relevant to the scatologically repulsive—the shock here is like ‘The Scream’ made flesh.” — Mort Castle, editor of On Writing Horror: A Handbook by the Horror Writers Association

“In Zippered Flesh 3, Editor Weldon Burge has done a masterful job of combining work from well-known masters like Jack Ketchum and Graham Masterton with newer writers. But it is the original work by newcomers like L.L. Soares and Meghan Acuri that stands out for me. … Highly recommended.” — Gene O’Neill, author of The Hitchhiking Effect: A Retrospective Collection

“‘Closer by Charles Colyott is a wonderfully poignant and romantic story. … ‘Going Green’ by Christine Morgan is so original, timely, and well-written it deserves special mention. … Kudos to Burge for putting together another fine anthology of cutting-edge fiction.” — Paul Dale Anderson, author of The Instruments of Death series

Available on Amazon!