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

Posted on July 21, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Broken Bones of Baby Dolls
by Lydia Prime

Katina slid down the basement wall and cradled her head in her hands. “Again! It’s happening again!” She whimpered and tugged at her hair. Katina slapped herself a few times, trying to regain her composure, and stared daggers at the tiny red haired infant. The non-stop wailing for almost a day was beginning to cause a major migraine for Katina, and to be honest, she didn’t really know what she was doing.
“This is not my baby!” She shouted. “Who are you?!” She continued to scream at the still crying tot. Katina knew the child couldn’t answer, but she didn’t care. She stood up, brushed herself off, and walked over to the baby. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” She yelled just before reaching out and snapping the girl’s neck. Silence filled the room and Katina felt like she could finally breathe again. She sighed and picked up the little body. “Good night sweet girl,” she whispered as she walked the baby over to he industrial sized freezer. Katina lifted the lid and placed the freshly deceased child in with all the others. She closed the top and went over to her walk in freezer. She opened the door and there stood a young woman, crystalized with frost, pain frozen on her face, and hair kissed by fire flowing down past her shoulders.
“She lasted longer than the others.” Katina quipped to the clearly no longer living lady. “I trust that you understand what happened, and I’m pleased to tell you she should make a fantastic meal!” Katina giggled and closed the freezer door. She walked through the basement and up the steps, past the sound proof door. She locked it behind her, and slowly scanned the room. Her eyes landed on a rather grimy bassinet. She walked over to it, leaned inside, and immediately began to panic.
“Where’s my daughter?!” She pleaded. The empty bassinet had been collecting dust since Katina’s baby was delivered still born twelve years ago. She inhaled deeply, took the doll that had been sitting inside the bassinet, and left the house in search of her baby girl.
Fiction © Copyright Lydia Prime
Image courtesy of Marge Simon

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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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About the Artist, Marge Simon:

A writer-artist since the mid-1980’s, Marge Simon has illustrated numerous poetry collections for Sam’s Dot Publications/Alban Lake; as well as multiple print magazines. She illustrated covers and interiors of every issue of Niteblade (Rhonda Parrish, editor). Currently she illustrates for Lorelei Signal, Carol Hightshoe, editor.  Check out her art galleries at www.margesimon.com

Marge is also one of the Ladies of Horror who writes for this challenge.

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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 Leigh M. Lane @LeighMLane @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on July 21, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


My Name Is Not Alice
by Leigh M. Lane

This is not my garden.
Lucy moved slowly, searching for something—anything at all—that felt familiar, but nothing was where it was supposed to be. A briar patch crept, thorns the size of swords, where the roses should have been; the flowering figs had been overtaken by obelisks covered in anemone-like flowers with writhing tentacles for petals; the pansies had become petunias, and they swayed in waves as they hummed a catchy Beatle’s tune.
She felt a tap on her left shoulder, and she turned with a start, only to find John standing in front of her. She put her hand to her chest and let out an exasperated breath, lunging forward to hug him. Every ounce of anger melted away, past mishaps falling to the wayside. “Oh, thank god!”
“What’s wrong?”
She took another look at the ever-changing environment. “You don’t see it?”
He grinned while a dozen ribbon snakes sprouted from his head and writhed along his dark hair. “See what?”
She shook her head, backing from him. “I… I need help.”
“I know. I can help you.”
“But you have snakes in your hair.”
“Don’t worry about the snakes. I can take you someplace safe.”
She considered the offer carefully. He didn’t look too concerned about the issue at hand, so maybe he did know where to find help. Maybe he cared more than he’d previously shown. Why else would he offer to step in? She followed him to his car, which was unremarkable save the random shapes coming off the shiny paint job. She got in, and he buckled her up.
As they drove, the trees on either side took on strange shapes: distorted faces of demons and clowns, a twenty-foot rabbit, and a dragon that spanned a good half mile. Lucy struggled to make sense of the transformation, and she was finding it increasingly difficult to mask her horror.
She had no idea where they were when the car stopped, but John insisted she get out and follow him. The tree creatures were everywhere, though, so Lucy stayed seated. She shook all over, the combination of the cool air and sweat like ice beneath her shirt.
He opened her door, and the smell of damp pine rushed in. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Let me show you.” He pulled her out and took her by the arm. “This way.”
The tree creatures reached for them while they walked. Faces came at her from every direction, and they began to laugh. Then the laughter became a chorus of blackbirds, which faded when the birds scattered from the trees.
Lucy wrapped her arms around herself with a shiver. “How much farther?”
“Almost there.”
The wind picked up, and so did the trees creatures’ movements. They thrashed clawed hands and whipping limbs, and the laughter returned even louder than before. Lucy’s face became wet with tears, and finally she stopped, refusing to continue. “Tell me what’s going on!”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are we here?”
“I thought you needed my help.”
“This isn’t what I had in mind, John!”
“No?”
“Take me home.”
“Can’t do that.” The snakes on his head had multiplied, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Why not?”
He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Because this is it.”
Her chest grew heavy, and she feared the beginning of an asthma attack. She reached to her side, a whole new shock of horror hitting her when she realized she’d left her purse in the car. “I need my inhaler.”
“Hmm.” He turned around, looked through the trees for a moment, and then turned back. “You stay here. I’ll go get it.”
Hyperventilation seized her lungs. “You can’t leave me here!”
He clapped her on the shoulder, and then he was off.
She started after him, but she was too winded. “Please!” she wheezed. “I feel like I’ve been dropped off into Wonderland or the Twilight Zone or something! Everything’s… wrong!”
“That’s what a four-way tab of Orange Sunshine’ll do to you, you crazy bitch,” he said under his breath, and then the tree-creatures swallowed him.
She fell to her knees, screaming as the monsters manifested in the tree trunks, the piles of pine needles near her feet, and even the clouds in the bits of sky peeking through the treetops. She coughed, wiping snot from her nose. She felt like she was breathing through a hookah straw, and it was growing narrower by the second. Pins and needles rushed into her hands and feet.
He said he’d be back.
The laughter echoed. The dragon circled her, taking what was left of her air.
She struggled desperately to catch a breath. A light cry found its way out, and then her airway sealed, a sinking pain hitting her chest when she tried to force in one last breath. Her vision faded. She dropped into the darkness, expecting to feel earth and pine needles on her face upon impact, but she only continued to fall.
Fiction © Copyright Leigh M. Lane
Image courtesy of Marge Simon

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More from Leigh M. Lane:

Finding Poe: Special Edition

Finding Poe is a riddle to be solved, and this edition caters to those who feel up to the task. If you’re a Poe fan, you’ll already know he was the father of the deductive detective story. Many scholars will argue that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes series was inspired by Poe’s Detective Dupin stories.

This book asks the reader to assume the hat of the deductive detective. Throughout the text, there are numerous clues to direct the reader toward an alternate speculation about Poe’s untimely death. Before you set out to solve the riddle, however, you must first find the question….

About the story: When reality and fiction collide, there’s no telling what horrors might ensue.

In the wake of her husband’s haunted death, Karina must sift through the cryptic clues left behind in order to solve the mystery behind his suicide–all of which point back to the elusive author, Edgar Allan Poe.

Karina soon finds that reality, dream, and nightmare have become fused into one as she journeys from a haunted lighthouse in New England to Baltimore, where the only man who might know the answers to her many questions resides.

But will she find her answers before insanity rips her grip on reality for good? Might a man she’s never met hold the only key to a truth more shocking than even she could have imagined?

Finding Poe was a 2013 EPIC Awards finalist in Horror.

“Atmospheric, lush, and lyrical, Leigh M. Lane’s Finding Poe is a haunting Gothic novel which will delight anyone familiar with the works of Edgar Allan Poe, as well as anyone who enjoys an evocative and classic tale of terror.” –horror/mystery author Dana Fredsti.

Available on Amazon!

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About the Artist, Marge Simon:

A writer-artist since the mid-1980’s, Marge Simon has illustrated numerous poetry collections for Sam’s Dot Publications/Alban Lake; as well as multiple print magazines. She illustrated covers and interiors of every issue of Niteblade (Rhonda Parrish, editor). Currently she illustrates for Lorelei Signal, Carol Hightshoe, editor.  Check out her art galleries at www.margesimon.com

Marge is also one of the Ladies of Horror who writes for this challenge.

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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 Mary Ann Peden-Coviello @MAPedenCoviello @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on July 20, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

A Lion in Spring
by Mary Ann Peden-Coviello

In the dappled shade thrown by an acacia tree, a mighty lion lies patiently waiting. He yawns, displaying his sharp, yellow fangs, his tongue curling. He appears, to the unwary, to be lazing away this spring afternoon with nothing on his mind but the sensuous, sensual curve of his favorite lioness’ left hip.
As the sun sets, the scent of zebra tickles the lion’s nostrils. He opens his mouth and tastes the tantalizing fragrance on the air. Hunger, asleep in his belly for hours, awakens and nudges him with its sharp elbows.
Silent as death in the moonlight, the lion leads his pride onto the Serengeti plain, tawny flanks invisible against the yellowed grasses. He leaps and pulls down a zebra mare. His jaws clamp onto her throat and suffocate her while his claws rip apart her striped body, red blood flowing onto the black and white.
High above, like the cry of an eagle, a call pierces the night. The lion shakes his head, blood and bits of zebra flying in all directions. He’s the Lord of the Serengeti and yields to no one.  The call floats across the sky again. Mouth full of zebra flesh, the lion growls a warning.
“There you are, Fluffy! Playing with your toy zebra again?” The woman snatches up the ginger tabby and drags the tattered plush zebra out of the cat’s mouth. Ignoring the swish of his unhappy tail, the woman snuggles her pet against her throat.
Echoes of the play dream linger in his mind. For a moment, he sees himself tearing out the pulse at the side of her neck and gnawing through to her spine.
“Would my Fluffy like a treat?”
At the T-word, the magnificent lion sighs and pads away into the silence.
Until next time.
Fiction © Copyright Mary Ann Peden-Coviello
Image courtesy of Marge Simon 

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More from Mary Ann Peden-Coviello:

maryannpedencoviello_frightmareFright Mare-Women Write Horror
Short Story: One Hour Before the Dark

Women write horror and have written it since before Mary Shelley wrote FRANKENSTEIN. This anthology is to highlight the fact women write great horror and to kill the fallacy that they aren’t in some way up to standard. They are. Read here stories by Elizabeth Massie, Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Lucy Taylor, and a plethora of other great writers as they work on your nerves, get inside your head, and bang out some of the scariest tales written today. I’m proud to present these women for your consideration, as Rod Serling might say, as I ask you to step into FRIGHT MARE. Lock the door and windows, put on a light, and remember, it’s not real. It’s not real. Midnight awaits, monsters scheme to take you away, the strange and weird wait in the shadows, but it’s not real. Is it?

Edited by Billie Sue Mosiman, the author who brought you the SINISTER-TALES OF DREAD collections and her latest suspense novel, THE GREY MATTER.

Available on Amazon!

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About the Artist, Marge Simon:

A writer-artist since the mid-1980’s, Marge Simon has illustrated numerous poetry collections for Sam’s Dot Publications/Alban Lake; as well as multiple print magazines. She illustrated covers and interiors of every issue of Niteblade (Rhonda Parrish, editor). Currently she illustrates for Lorelei Signal, Carol Hightshoe, editor.  Check out her art galleries at www.margesimon.com

Marge is also one of the Ladies of Horror who writes for this challenge.

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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 Jaime Johnesee @JaimeJohnesee @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on July 20, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


Morgrim
by Jaime Johnesee

Her name was was once her grandmother’s–Morgrim–and, like her gran, she was a dragon breeder from the Highlands. The Riders looked to her to outfit their stables with the best dragonflesh rubbats could buy.
Morgrim’s speciality was in matching Dragon Riders with their life-long scaly companions. She had a sixth sense that allowed her to pair up just the right Riders with her dragons.
Her lesser talked about speciality was in vanishing bodies. Dragons needed to eat and humans didn’t generally volunteer to be meat. The political unrest made sure to cause wars that kept her in business. Eventually, Morgrim would get more meat than her dragons could handle.
For now, she had control but one day there’d be too many bodies. She tried to get out of the business when the Vice-President of Grendhem came to her after killing the President, in order to secede from the Grendhem-Norshing Pact.
The VP told his story; how he was adamant the Pact was affecting their trade with the rest of the world but the President did not agree so, he killed her and brought the body to Morgrim for feeding her dragons.
To her credit, she did not let it faze her. She asked the VP what he planned to do and was told it wasn’t her concern. All he wanted from her was for the dragons to eat the President’s corpse.
“Very well. Put her over with Bran, he hasn’t eaten this week.” She pointed to the stall.
“How often do they eat?” Nervous, the tall man swiped sweat out of his eyes as he dragged the President to a pen marked with a bright red sign reading, Bran, and shoved her inside.
Loud tearing and crunching noises soon followed the squeak of the hasp and the clang of the stall door closing. Morgrim noted the man didn’t seem disturbed by his former boss being eaten so loudly.
“Once or twice a week. Luckily, I have thirty seven dragons here and am equipped to deal with emergencies. But, please note, this can never happen again. If you want to bring me a body you must go through proper channels,” she kept her voice cold and stern, like a teacher lecturing a student.
“I will bring you what I want, when I want!” He grinned, and there was a hint of madness to it.
“I do not work that way and I suggest you give me the respect I deserve, boy! More bodies than the dragons can eat is a bad thing for all of us!” Fire flashed around her body, like a snake winding around its owner.
He wheeled backwards, his eyes widening in awe. “A pyromancer? That’s not possible, there hasn’t been one since The Great War!” There was a smidge of terror hiding behind his obvious excitement.
“I know. They put my whole family to death; I survived. Now, boy, you go do what you need to do, but know that if you show up unannounced again, I will feed you to my babies.” She gave him an icy glare and flashed the fire again.
“Is that why they listen so well to you? Did you show them your fire?”
She shook her head, no.
“Really?”
“They listen to me because I hold my place with them. I treat them well, feed them regularly, and give them the love they deserve. That is why they listen to me; they know I respect them. You might do well to follow my example.”
“Well, now you all can work for me. What do you say?” he grinned. It reminded her of an old poodle with bad teeth and an even  worse perm.
“I say, sorry, I’m self-employed. I did ask you to leave nicely. Told you to give me the respect I’m due; you brought this on yourself.” She flashed her fire out to him and fed him to her flames.
Her dragons weren’t fond of cooked meat, but, they’d eat him. With the President and the VP dead and on their way to digested, Morgrim chuckled.“I hope your successor treats me better.”
Fiction © Copyright Jaime Johnesee
Image courtesy of Marge Simon

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More from Jaime Johnesee:


Shifters: A Samantha Reece Mystery

When a serial killer begins leaving remains of victims in hotel bathtubs all over town FBI Agent Samantha Reece makes it her business to stop him.

This detective’s got an ace up her sleeve in the form of her ability to shift into the guise of a were panther. As she tracks down the cold-hearted murderer she also has to contend with an anti-shifter group determined to destroy her.

Not to mention the black jaguar who turned her decides to come sauntering back into her life.

Available on Amazon!

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About the Artist, Marge Simon:

A writer-artist since the mid-1980’s, Marge Simon has illustrated numerous poetry collections for Sam’s Dot Publications/Alban Lake; as well as multiple print magazines. She illustrated covers and interiors of every issue of Niteblade (Rhonda Parrish, editor). Currently she illustrates for Lorelei Signal, Carol Hightshoe, editor.  Check out her art galleries at www.margesimon.com

Marge is also one of the Ladies of Horror who writes for this challenge.

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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

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

Posted on June 29, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The High Room
by Marge Simon

I stand in the doorway, overwhelmed with memories. Before me is that monstrous ceiling of multiple window panes that in my childhood mind was the door to Heaven. The frame of Mama’s bed is now barren except for the springs. The floor is littered with junkie’s trash and rat droppings.
My life began in this room. I used to pretend that the windows had organdy curtains that spread the morning light, unfolding an apron of delicious smells and wonders to come for the new day, like in Mama’s books. But of course that wasn’t so.
We lived as prisoners in this cage of multi-paned glass for a decade, Mama and I. Looking at it now, I wonder how she managed to raise me, keep me occupied and curious  for all those years. To keep us both sane, especially when it stormed, or worse — at the sound of his boots clomping up the stairs.  When that happened, I would be sent to lie on a bed of rags inside the closet. I was to plug my ears and be still until Mama opened the closet door. Of course I would try to do this. But I knew what he did with her –did to her. I could hear the bed springs bouncing on and on. Her sobs. His shout of release.
Then came the night I heard her scream and after, a terrible silence. He opened the closet door, his face pale above his dark beard. “I’m sorry, kid. Go!” And I did, but then I saw Mama on the bed. I saw how her neck didn’t look right. I started screaming and all went black. When I woke, I was on the pavement and a man in uniform was there, talking to me gently. He picked me up and took me to a hospital. That was a long time ago. I never found out what happened to the man who murdered Mama. For all I know, he was my father. I know it sounds crazy, but Mama wouldn’t tell me, wouldn’t allow the subject.
A feral cat pursues a rat across the floor and up upon the bedstead.  I don’t stay to see if it is successful or not. No longer filled with Mama’s loving presence, this is a place of pain and tears. A barren world of filthy windows reaching to the skies.
Fiction © Copyright Marge Simon
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Marge Simon:

Small Spirits

Small Spirits is another of the poems-for-art duets by Bram Stoker® Award winning poet Marge Simon and artist Sandy DeLuca. These unusual poems involve dolls of many sorts, including legends from countries all over the world. You will find small spirits of the wicked, the damned and the beloved. Be prepared for the mystical, magical and often misanthropic dolls in this colorful collection.

Available 2017!

 

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

Posted on June 29, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Feed for Complacency
by Elizabeth H. Smith

She returned to the foul cellar despite what resided there—a chore which could not be delayed. The consequences, too awful to allow.
Purity of death, sacred. Beauty of decay, glorious. The cycle, to be revered. Although rank in her nostrils, it was something one could not take for granted. Respect had to be given to those who would never return. They’d given themselves; a feast for things that should never see, or be seen. Blood to keep them in shadow, meat to give no reason to hunt.
She dragged two bodies wrapped in sheets to the edge of the skeletal stairway and pushed them down—feed for the horrors below.
The monstrous things had become complacent… But for how long, she wondered.
Fiction © Copyright Elizabeth H. Smith
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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More from Elizabeth H. Smith:

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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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 R. Lopez @LoriRLopez @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on June 28, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Experiment
by Lori R. Lopez

Neath a slanted crumbling roof at the outskirts
Of the kind of jerkwater average town
You wouldn’t expect to harbor mad scientists
Moretta Munrow found an abandoned lab
Or perhaps, more accurately, a deserted Bell Jar
A stark shell that once harbored the cutting edges of
Exploration.  Trials and errors, pioneering advancements
That hummed or beeped with technology, activity
Though the building lay stripped and gutted of equipment
She could imagine all stages and states of the bizarre
Every manner of weirdity and off-the-wall strangeness
The unconventional.  The hinky.  Biology research gone awry
An inventor’s bittersweet “pet” project kissed goodbye
Some corporation’s dirty little secrets shut down —
Cast aside.  A failed experiment, or was it a success?
The place hibernated, ripe with unlimited possibilities
A paradise for a young girl’s precocious mind; a toyland of
Scrapped endeavor, shredded blueprints, unplanned mishaps
Alarming miscalculations and disturbed goals
Kicking, picking through chambers of emptiness
Occasional left-behind, forgotten, worthless junk
Traces of disappointment lingered, disastrous results
Yet Moretta traipsed room to room in a rapture of hope
Not sure what she wanted to find but knowing
Deep deep down, it was meant for her alone
A missing piece, an overlooked clue.  A broken relic
Proof what they had wrought, meticulously engineered
Precariously rendered, discarded amidst the ruins
She reveled at the thought of a glimpse, a peek
It was like giving a dog a bone!
Intrigued; both gnawing and gnawed at
She gaped and giggled as she roamed the lovely
Shambles, collecting wreckage.  A souvenir hound
Any genuine samples would do for a shelf or table in
Her bedroom to stare at, fondle and fantasize
She wasn’t fussy, as long as it resembled Science
A vestige of a laboratory.  A synthetic fragment
From a lost, outdated, retro, vintage, vainglorious pursuit
It seemed dreadfully romantic.  Speculative and Gothic
A sight for wistful brooding eyes
To tread the layers of academic stomping grounds
Trample across another person’s dreams
That didn’t go so well judging by her impressions —
Tattered scattered remnants of unspent efforts
Tossed on the trash heap of Time or Fate
This gaunt edifice her playpen, she sought to
While the hours the way she haunted cemeteries
Far too interested what reposed there
In particular the contents of a rusty storage tank
Pent with stockpiled ramifications; curiosity bait
What could be inside?  Her mind a crucible of ideas
A cauldron of suppositions akin to the hulking tin can
Bearing three words stenciled just below the rim
Where a yoke had been attached and latched
Without a lock.  DO NOT OPEN was all it said
Now who could resist?  Enthusiasm bubbled
She pushed the heavy lid, determined, straining
Iron scraped, a frictious echo in the grave quietude
Cumbrous as a tomb of stone, shut off from air
The dust disturbed along with the dead
Uncovering a mystery, atop a cabinet slid to the brink
A girl peered in the depth of the conspicuous kettle
Black soup; a thick void.  “Hello?”  Absurdly she waited
Only to gasp when a thing dormant stirred
Too subtle and uncertain whether slithery or not
Moretta fancied there could be no signs of life
At the wishing-well bottom, an inky cistern
Like a passage to Hell.  The grimmest mouth
Would reach sharp lengthy fingers . . . an oily mitt
Stretch from the pit’s yawning pot
As she spied into the abyss of murky nothings
A child listened for sounds to establish intent
Its make-up and condition, which had to be dismal
And the darkness spied back!  With piranha greed
Was she snapped in a blur
Too late, she found out the ulterior purpose
A fathomless beckon for a stray passerby
That tested, infested, and promptly digested
Moretta Munrow in a turpid undertow
Then again, perhaps it found her.
Fiction © Copyright Lori R. Lopez
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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More from Lori R. Lopez:

Poetic Reflections: The Queen Of Hats

A collection of very unusual verse, ranging from wacky to dark to narrative. Lori R. Lopez writes her own way, whether poetry or prose. This book contains both in an odd yet artful balance.

Volume Two of the POETIC REFLECTIONS book series, THE QUEEN OF HATS is packed with craziness as well as eerie and thoughtful pieces. Chapters are framed by thirteen eccentric or brooding columns, followed by a rich array of additional content for each theme. Lori’s writing style is wildly original and evocative, providing much to think about in this sequel to KEEP THE HEART OF A CHILD. The print edition includes black-and-white illustrations done by the author.

THE QUEEN OF HATS received HONORABLE MENTION in Poetry from the 2015 Royal Dragonfly Book Awards and an HONORABLE MENTION from the 2014 Halloween Book Festival.

Available on Amazon! 

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Nina D’Arcangela @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on June 28, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Reny’s Room
by Nina D’Arcangela

The clack of patent leather shoes could be heard racing up the wooden staircase. Round and round she ran until the thwack of tiny feet came to an abrupt stop on the fourth floor. As father’s pen scratched across the papers that finalized the purchase of the property, Reny’s fate was sealed as she spotted a small stairwell set in a far corner, its door open only a crack. She approached it with all the trepidation that could be expected of a precocious nine year old – bow tails, and locks trailing behind her, her favored Teddy held tight to her chest, she dashed to the door and threw it wide. Glancing up the rickety stairs, she hesitated for a moment, then began to creep up the shadowy risers while imagining that she alone would be the one to find a special, hidden room.
The dark ascending flight ended at a tiny landing barely large enough to accommodate her size two Mary Janes. She could see light as it spilled from the gaps surrounding the ill fitting door in front of her. As she wrapped her hand around the ornate glass knob, she could hear the echo of her father walking through the grand foyer mumbling politely with the white haired lady who’d sold them the house. Turning back to the threshold that barred her way, Reny gave the diamond-cut knob a twist, a shove, then finally a good, hard tug. The glass ball and metal stem came free of their housing and almost sent the poor child tumbling backwards. A small screech escaped her lips before she could capture it. Luckily, her father was either too preoccupied or too far away to hear it. As the door swung open, rainbow colored light filled the space and her fright from a moment before was all but forgotten. A large alcove with glowing glass panes caught her full attention. She raced toward it and skidded to a stop in the dust just before the sill.
Outside, and well below, she could see her father walking the elderly woman to her car. She started tapping the panels and waving her arms to catch her fathers eye, but it was no use – he simply couldn’t hear her. In her haste and excitement, Reny threw open the window and stepped onto the balcony. Proud of her find, she shouted again for her father’s attention and took a single step forward. She never heard the crack of rotted wood, nor did she feel her toe dip as her body began to pitch forward.
From the ground, her father watched in horror knowing there was nothing he could do to stop Reny’s advance. Her beautiful yellow dress – the one they’d picked out just for the occasion – a near match to the painted clapboard background. It was to be a fresh start, a place to learn to enjoy life again after the loss of her mother.
Teddy still clutched in her hand, Renata Mueller hung impaled on the ornate iron railing that decorated the front of her father’s new home; her bow tails and locks fluttering in the gentle breeze.
Fiction © Copyright Nina D’Arcangela
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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More from Nina D’Arcangela:


Monster Brawl!

It’s time to let the monsters loose!

For this book, we collected stories of monsters doing epic battle with other monsters! The beasts could be classical by design with a unique twist, or they could be spawned straight from the author’s imagination. The only rule: there must be a clear-cut winner at the end of each story; one of the creatures had to die!

Some of the stories in this collection pit a single monster against another, while others are all-out gang warfare. Some are campy, some serious, but all a fight for the ages!

It’s time to get your game face on for twelve tales worthy of the title Monster Brawl!

**No monsters were hurt in the writing of these stories**

Available on Amazon!

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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

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

Posted on June 27, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Metamorphosis
by Ela Lourenco

Kaleidoscope shadows intertwine with the meagre shreds of light making it through the dusty old stained-glass windows of this derelict church. This place, once admired for its architecture and grandeur now long forgotten, abandoned in the search of something newer and better.
Hordes of spiders live here now, paying no mind to the piercing chill spearing through the loose stones. There is no one else here. No one except me that is. I am still queen here, no matter that I no longer have a court. My powers still course through my body, rippling as the earth’s own core pulsates with untapped magic.
I weave in and out of the obsidian shadows, peering out of my stone haven. Fascinated by how much the world has changed, and yet transfixed by how much they remain the same. This is my realm, my domain. I can perform my experiments here without hindrance. With each passing day, I am one step closer to success – one step closer to becoming one of ‘them’. Once I shed my feline form I will be truly free to leave this sanctuary and bend the world to my will.
Fiction © Copyright Ela Lourenco
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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More from Ela Lourenco:

Origins: Book 2 of the Ascension Series

Origins is the second instalment in the Ascension series, which follows Sena – a young woman who must travel to the past in order to protect the future. Each step of her journey is made difficult by obstacles and life-changing revelations. With the help of her friends, both old and new, Sena must try to fight a dark disease that is spreading through her world. As she trains and learns, she struggles to adjust to the truths revealed to her and to accept that nothing – especially her identity – is as it seems as she undergoes a metamorphosis which leaves her feeling like a stranger in her own skin.
Sena travels through a portal to another dimension – a whole new world of strange, and yet oddly familiar, creatures, in which she faces the most perilous journey of all. Battling ferocious beasts and coming up against powerful spells, Sena must reach the Tree of Stone in order to finally learn how to save the world from the spreading darkness.
Inspired by Ursula Le Guin and Isaac Asimov, Ela Lourenco’s second book stretches younger readers’ imaginations as they accompany Sena on her travels through an invented planetary system, encountering new worlds and magic. Origins will appeal to young readers aged 10 and over that enjoy fantasy and adventure stories, as well as fans of the first book in the Ascension series, Radiant.

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 Jaime Johnesee @JaimeJohnesee @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on June 27, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Fight to Survive
by Jaime Johnesee

I was currently locked into a death match in a warehouse that I’d been looking at renting. The space seemed like a good fit. I liked that I had pier access, which lessened some shipping costs. It fit my needs perfectly, and it included an elegant library in the basement that was climate controlled.

But, it was the display case that attracted my eye. Oh, how beautiful all of my favorite things would look in a case like that; on view for the world to enjoy. I liked the idea of that. In a quick moment I had that library designed exactly the way I wanted.

That was then, this is now; and now had me scrambling for purchase on the gorgeous terrazzo floors as I ran from a stray rottweiler that surprised me in what was to be my warehouse.

As it leapt for my throat, I threw myself backwards and to the left, his jaws latched on to my left breast, tearing and ripping into flesh, muscle, and fat.

He shook his massive head trying to pull me down and, when he failed, he let go; just enough to bite again with a better grip. Again, he shook and tried to take me down. Again, I stayed upright and tried to figure how to get out with my breast and life intact.

Six times in the span of thirty seconds, he bit and shook me, trying to get me down for the killing blow and my punching the side of his head did nothing to dissuade him. I knew if I fell, I was dead.

He attempted to readjust his bite a seventh time and stumbled on the slick floor. I hauled back and punched him in the nose as hard as I could. He fell back whimpering, gave me his belly, peed, and ran outside. I stumbled to the door, leaving a bloody handprint behind, as I looked to see where the dog was; out in the parking lot, chasing a butterfly.

I closed and locked every entry point to the building. Only when I felt safe did I look down at the shredded mound that was my breast.

I was alarmed by the large tears in my flesh as well as the yellow-white fat and blood that erupted forth from those wounds. But the slow blood flow told me nothing major had been damaged.

I pulled my ruined tee shirt off and held it to the bleeding bites. Then I looked for my cell phone, found it, and called 911.

The operator assured me they were sending an ambulance and asked where the dog was, I told her what I’d last seen and how bad the wounds were, then I sat down and worked on controlling my breathing while I began processing my emotions.

Author’s note: If you know the movie and its song I am referencing in the title, you rock.

Fiction © Copyright Jaime Johnesee
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Jaime Johnesee:

Risk: A Samantha Reece Mystery

Neck-deep in the hunt for members of Americans for a Were-Free America, Sam discovers she’s not the only one on the prowl. The horrific crime scenes the FBI stumble across tell Sam that whatever is pursuing her enemy is more vicious and cold than even this most extreme of hate groups. Forced to protect the very people responsible for training murderers, like the infamous Grisly, Sam uncovers a nefarious plot wherein AWFA has been trafficking shifters and vamps into the sex-slave trade. Can she save the very people crying out for her blood? It’s a risk she’s willing to take.

Available on Amazon!

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