Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Sheri White @sheriw1965 @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on June 26, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Abandoned
by Sheri White

Steven wasn’t supposed to be in the abandoned psychiatric hospital; he snuck in through the basement before dawn so he wouldn’t be noticed. But no guards were around to chase him away. He took a sip of hot coffee from his Thermos to ward off the chill permeating the air.
Early-morning sunshine brightened the room, but couldn’t penetrate the dirt-caked windows. Steven lifted the digital camera to his eye, shooting through the sick yellow haze as he ventured into the hallway.
An old metal gurney splashed with dried blood blocked his way into the next wing. Steven pushed it aside, eliciting a low groan from the stainless-steel bed. It echoed through the hallway, sending shivers along his spine.
Steven took his time as he explored the building, peeking into rooms and taking pictures of things he found interesting. A blue safety razor sat on the edge of a dirty tub looking brand new. He figured a squatter had used the place recently, but would a squatter take the time to shave? Steven shrugged off the mystery.
Here and there, rats looked out of holes they had chewed in the walls, but they didn’t bother Steven. They squeaked at him when he walked by, as if warning him to leave them alone. He continued through the hallway, stopping at a room with bright blue walls. Although some of the paint was peeling, the room looked cheery, out of place in such a gloomy building. Must’ve been a child’s room, Steven thought.
At that moment, he heard a faint cry from down the hall.
“Uh, hello?” Steven called, peeking into the hallway. He looked both ways, but saw nobody. “Is someone there?”
No response. The hospital was silent once more. Just my imagination, he told himself. It would be weird if I didn’t hear something in a place like this.
He left the room, a little spooked, but still wanting to explore as much as he could before he got caught. He arrived at the end of the wing, but the doors were blocked with wood planks, allowing him to go no further. He decided it was time to make his way back to the basement and come back another time when suddenly the doors pushed outward toward him, then slammed back, almost breaking the boards keeping them shut.
Oh, fuck this.
Steven didn’t wait to see who or what was trying to get out of that wing; he ran as fast as he could back to the hospital entrance.  But the corridors were long and confusing and there were many of them. Steven found himself lost in the middle of the building.  He could hear banging on the doors in the distance, as if something wanted out RIGHT NOW.
He ducked into a room he hadn’t explored yet, looking for a place to hide. Candles set in a circle on the floor provided flickering light. Graffiti covered the walls. “The End is Near” read one of the messages, so red it could’ve been written in fresh blood. Cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck as shuffling footsteps approached him.  He whipped around, screaming at what had come for him.
Fiction © Copyright Sheri White
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Sheri White:

Barnyard Horror

This is a superb collection of horror art, poetry, flash fiction and short stories.

Available on Amazon!

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Lisa Vasquez @unsaintly @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on June 26, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Stawberry Moon
by Lisa Vasquez

The wind was warm that afternoon, offering no relief to the hot summer day. A heat wave had left the town in a delirium. Soaring temperatures and a lack of rain made for quick tempers. Templeton, though small, thrived on the fruits of their manual labor. From the outside, the men, women and children looked happy and peaceful. The quaint town was filled with shops where, once a month on the Summer Solstice, outsiders were allowed to visit and purchase items made from their precious resources.
One of the favorites was the fine, scented soaps made by Widow Jane.
June – Night of the Strawberry Moon
“Good morning, Widow Jane,” Vicar Darland said from the doorway of her room. Jane’s silhouette was a frail shadow against the pale yellow of sunlight embracing her from the attic window. The Vicar’s greeting sliced through her peace, raking through it with his jagged edged voice.
Turning to face him, Jane smiled when she saw how the years had been unkind to him. He was much rounder and his posture crooked. Gout had forced him to limp. His bones had deformed at the weight and burden of carrying him.
“It is a bright day, indeed, Father Darland.”
The Vicar’s face pulled inward. His already small, beady eyes nearly disappeared among the folds of crepe like wrinkles hooding his eyes. His blotchy skin reddened with his unspoken anger as he stared her down. She was a woman in her forties now, but he still blamed her for the death of his only son to whom she married when they were fifteen.
“Tis the Summer Solstice and th’ Strawberry Moon. I trust y’ have th’ soaps ready?”
“Of course, what else is there to do in this prison you keep me locked in?” Jane swept her hand to the right and motioned toward the wooden trunk near her bed. The Vicar hobbled like a wounded animal over to it and used his cane to shove the top open. The scent of lavender and sage filled his nose and he smiled, exposing his rotting teeth. Her soaps were like gold to the town. People traveled from near and far to purchase it every year.
Slamming the lid shut, his smile faded and he looked at her, “Good t’ know your good for somethin’ t’ this town besides killin’ its folk.”
Jane’s nose wrinkled at the stench of halitosis coming from the Vicar’s mouth. Closing her eyes, she held her breath and turned her head toward the window to avoid the smell and his slanderous words.
Jamming the cane down on the wooden floor, the Vicar signaled the men to enter and they took the large box of soaps out. Jane watched as the Vicar hobbled out behind them, locking the door as he did. When he was out of sight, Jane slowly melted down into the padded bench in front of her window and looked down. Her fist rested in her lap, balled so tight she could feel her nails etching into her skin.
“My love, forgive me,” she whispered, “I did all I could to save you then. Still, the night swept you away from me.”
The Vicar’s son had taken to a fever on the night of their wedding. Jane, who had loved him since they were children tended to him all night with the remedies her mother had given her as a healer and midwife. In the morning, the Vicar and his men came to pray over his son for divine healing but found him already gone and Jane asleep across his chest. When the pulled her away, screaming, the priests claimed to have found evidence of Witchcraft.
“I will set it all correct, for both you and my mother. And if the winds be willing, they will carry my soul to thee this night.”
Opening her fist, she stared down at a small, wooden talisman. It was a moon being held by three figures; her husband, her mother, and herself. Holding back the tears, she pulled a pin from the hem of her dress and pricked the tip of her finger. A crimson bulb of blood rose and she pressed against the pad of her finger with her thumbnail for more before dabbing it on the wooden trinket.
I curse this night
For all who bathe
Beneath its light
Let thy rays bring mother’s tears
Let darkness raise thy father’s fears
By my blood make it so
By her blood make it so
By his love make so
Stepping to the window, Jane watched as the moon drew closer. The women and children laughed and danced excitedly, walking past her prison-home with their bags full of her homemade soap, oblivious of her existence. Pressing her hand and her lips to the window’s glass, she waved to the ones who bothered to look up. Some children caught a glimpse of her and began to cry, others turned pale as sheets.
Bonfires and festivities rang through the night, until the moon was at its highest peak. It looked farther away, leaving the world in a darker shade of night than normal. Still, the town celebrated. They danced and bathed in the water until every last one of them fell asleep.
In the morning, the door to her prison was opened. The Vicar, looking more haggard than ever stood looking in at her. He never celebrated with the villagers and, more importantly, he rarely bathed. He knew when the sun rose and the bodies lie cold and lifeless, Jane had poisoned them all.
What he found when he entered was the body of Jane lying in bed wearing her wedding gown. Beside her on the table was a cup of tea, and a plate of strawberries coated in a strange powder.
Fiction © Copyright Lisa Vasquez
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Lisa Vasquez:

The Unfleshed: Tale of the Autopsic Bride

A plague has washed upon England’s shore, bringing death in its wake. While the sickness plucks the lives of the victims indiscriminately, something else moves in its shadows, using it as a cover. Bodies with no sign of infection have been brutally murdered and dismembered. Suspicions already surround the infamous Doctor Wulfe when his eccentric behavior takes a more sinister turn. His interest in the young Morrigan spirals into an unhealthy obsession. Angus manipulates her father, giving him hope of a cure in return for his daughter’s hand in marriage. But, when his bride-to-be awakens with an insatiable appetite, will she be forced to go through with the arrangement? Or will the plague save her from a deal made with a devil? “Unfleshed is an exquisite dive into the madness brought on by love … a rose nourished with blood, rendered with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. A compelling blend of Mary Shelley, Baz Luhrman and the Grand Guignol!” —John Palisano, Bram Stoker-winning author of NERVES

Available on Amazon!

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

Posted on June 25, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

… In the Pale Moon Light IX
by Lydia Prime

“Minerva McGonagall, eat your heart out.” Hecate sneered as her coat of black fur morphed into a cloak of black velvet. She tossed up her hood, and quickly walked into her decrepit domain. The cathedral’s appearance seemed to rival only that of the now fallen House of Usher. Hecate traipsed through the empty corridors, each step echoed in her wake. She strolled through the rubble with out a care and toyed with the pendant dangling from her neck.
She came to an ordinary room – decaying, just as the rest of the place – and waved her hand. Instantly, the metal bed frame before her transformed into a dark alter. Bones, blood, and even flesh, had been used in its creation. Hecate stood beside the alter and ripped her trinket from her neck. She held it over her skull-made cauldron and it began to levitate from her palm. A small tip of a black, hollowed out horn – taken from the mighty ruler of the under world himself, shook violently in mid air. A transparent face flowed from it, terror and pain etched there for eternity. A tortured wail was heard, one last attempt at pleading for freedom, before being sucked into the skull beneath. Hecate places her hand beneath the horn, and fastened it back to the red ribbon around her neck. “Seven down, two to go.” She smiled as she spoke aloud to the spirits she knew were listening.
Hecate had made a deal with the King of Hell, simply steal the souls of nine exceptional do-gooders and she would be granted eternal youth, immortality, and not to mention a permanent human form. She had no idea, or even slightest worry, of what sinister plans awaited those souls. She was close to her goal and she could taste the power that was awaiting her. The sun rose once more and she returned to her feline form; the alter, back to an unimpressive metal bed frame – and once again, Hecate ventured out to find her next offering.
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 Julianne Snow @CdnZmbiRytr @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on June 25, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Shaft
by Julianne Snow

Strung up, alone with my madness, I know the ground is far enough away to kill me should I give into the burning pain in my muscles. I should let myself relax into the air around me but I can’t let go despite the assurance I’ve been secured for later rounds.
They call it fun, these rounds of torture I’m made to endure. They’re anything but. At times I feel like the skin is being flayed from my bones. In others, my fingernails are pried a bit further from the tips of my fingers. My tongue has already been cut out and my screams have become guttural moans of pain.
I don’t blame them. I put myself in this position. Acting like what I was doing was normal, moral, and even sanctioned by a God none of us could see nor chose to believe in. How could we believe? Growing up, we’d all seen more pain, inflicted even more carnage on those around us. The many who fell through the cracks of society running rampant with a kill-before-being-killed mentality.
It’s a miracle I’d survived until now. Most would have died before my tender age of seventeen, succumbing to the streets filled with those up to no good.
And I had been one of them. One of the worst. Not afraid to slit the throat of my best friend for a dollar. Never loyal enough not to rat out my own mother for the chance to spare my own life until the next time something came calling in the night.
It led me to this moment in this shaft knowing my time had thankfully come. My body is tired from the constant fight for survival but my mind is sharp, still working on a way to get out, to get away. My mind fixates on the bloody handprint I know was on the inside of the shaft’s door. Proof someone had gotten out.
I vow to leave my own as I escape.
Fiction © Copyright Julianne Snow
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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More from Julianne Snow:

JulianneSnow_TheDeadOfPenderghastManorThe Dead of Penderghast Manor

What would you do if you knew the Dead could talk?

For Chester Penderghast, it’s not the easiest of questions to answer…

Ensconced in the basement of his family’s mortuary business is the last place he wants to be, but when the conversation starts flowing, Chester’s the only living person who can hear it. What do the Dead want, and why is he the only one who can hear them?

This is not your average zombie tale—the Dead don’t want to eat your brains, but they will chew your ear off!

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

Posted on June 24, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Cave
by Leigh M. Lane

I thought the night would never end. I couldn’t decide which had been worse, the cold or the darkness. Both had been blinding. My arms had gone painfully stiff, knots of sharp, itchy twine binding my wrists behind a support beam and biting into my skin. I sat on the concrete floor, my ankles crossed in front of me, shivering past a denim miniskirt. I couldn’t recall how I’d gotten here, nor how long, as time relative to my imprisonment meant nothing until the first hints of dawn filtered through the warped, weathered windows.
I’d been working on the twine for hours when I caught sight of the first person to pass by outside. From what I could see, the person had a large frame, but the windows obscured and distorted my view into mere shadows devoid of specific features. I thought to scream for help, but fear of inadvertently calling out to my kidnapper instead had me fixed into a state of frozen indecision.
I waited for someone to come inside, every possible scenario culminating in my mind into a deluge of torture and death. Why was I here? What did they want? In silence, I waited… and waited.
Another shadow came into view, met by another. Was salvation just beyond the warehouse wall, or was it possible I had more than one kidnapper? I didn’t dare chance it.
My fingers went numb as I worked the twine loose enough to slip past one hand, and the ensuing slack offered just enough room for me to twist away from my binds. Finally free, I massaged my bruised wrists and agitated muscles, surveying the exits. I could see that at least one person was outside, possibly covering one of the doors. I couldn’t tell if anyone was watching the door on the other side, as the early evening dusk had begun to darken the eastern sky. My hesitancy to move only grew with the shadows. I waited.
And now it’s dark and I’m shivering and my cheeks are raw from hours of silent tears. I consider making a run for it.
But I’m too afraid to move.
Fiction © Copyright Leigh M. Lane
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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

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

Posted on June 24, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Conflict of Night and Day
by Melissa R. Mendelson

A long time ago, my mother told me to pray that the sun never met the moon.  If they do, death would take a form and become a beautiful, young woman that would stand on the highest balcony of a house that nobody wanted to buy.  As far back as I could remember, that house was always abandoned, and despite the long, cruel years, it remained, defiant and strong.  Something terrible had happened there, but nobody could remember it.  They only remembered that the sun had met the moon.
Every Sunday, I took my usual walk, and at the end, it would always lead back to that house.  I was enjoying the cool breeze when a shadow fell at my feet.  My eyes rose upward, slowly meeting her gaze, but it wasn’t her that chilled me.  It was the sun in the sky with the moon.
Night came fast.  The gnawing in my stomach wasn’t that of hunger.  My intestines were filled with rocks and nails.  My body was molasses, frozen to the family room chair.  Time melted into green numbers that bit into the dark, and fear kissed my cheek.  Something terrible was coming like a nightmare revving up to begin, and sleep was my enemy.  What would I awake to?  Why did the sun have to meet the moon?
It was late.  No.  It was early.  The sun was supposed to rise, but it was dark.  Something scratched at my windows.  The doorknob to my front door turned.  The shadows closed in, laughing menacingly.  Yet, there was no sound.  It was as if the world was already gone, but then I realized that my eyes were closed.  It was just a dream, and I finally relaxed.  As I did, I opened my eyes, and the real nightmare began.
 Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Melissa R. Mendelson:

Please visit Antarctica Journal for a reading of Melissa’s winning short story, Please Stay and Guard Me.

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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

Posted on June 23, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Remains
by A.F. Stewart

The unmistakable sound of a metallic spring being plucked echoed through the room, followed by a hiss. The cat lifted its paw, before scratching again at the metal bed frame. A fine red dust lifted into the air, rust mixed with something more.
The animal jumped back, watching the powder rise on a gentle breeze blown in through the broken window. It swirled in the air, riding the streaks of golden orange light filtered from outside, whispering its secrets into the adjacent shadows. The particles dispersed, carried to every corner of the room, settling into the darkness.
The cat meowed. A call, a question asked of the black beyond.
The space shifted in murmurs, reverberations of the past. Sensory pain lashed from infinity, snapped across barriers, chased by screams of insanity. Aftershocks whiplashed quiet waves, breaking walls, reallocating time and the dead.
The cat meowed again. Louder, more insistent.
And this time the voices answered.
Fiction © Copyright A.F. Stewart
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from A.F. Stewart:

Ruined City

In the Northern Pass stands the city of Elowen, the glittering guardian between the Empire of Aloquis and the Kingdoms of Immra. It exists proud and prosperous, never dreaming its dark past was coming to call…

On a bright winter’s day a stranger arrives in Elowen, bearing a secret. From this man a dark blight of ruin descends over the great city and henceforth the day becomes known as Winter’s Bane.
The day the world changed for the people of Elowen.
The day their existence turned into a recurring nightmare.

Read of the aftermath of revenge through the eyes of a shopkeeper, a child, ghosts, a blacksmith, a guardsman, an innkeeper, and even a King.

Twelve Stories, One Evil.

Available for FREE on Instafreebie!

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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Bailey Hunter @DarkRecesses @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on June 23, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Perfection
by Bailey Hunter

 

It isn’t like they said. It doesn’t come with a scorching blast of brimstone and fire. It doesn’t offer a bright light and open arms.
It’s simply empty. Empty, cold, and dark – just like this room.
I wish it were silent too, but it’s not. It’s loud. It’s beyond loud. It surrounds me in screams and wails, pleads and sloppy, wet gurgles.
I keep searching for that perfect final moment. I have been searching for years. I’ve found the purest of pure and the blackest of evils. Not one has even come close to what they say it will be.
The hypothesis is sound, the procedure well planned, and the method unquestionable so it must be the subjects.
Perhaps this time.
It’s a labor of love I suppose. The pursuit of perfection requires all my energies if I am to succeed. And I must succeed or it is all for naught.
I can’t entertain that thought. I have work to do.
The subject remains strapped to the table, its blue eyes wide and alert. I had to cut its ashen hair off on the second day. It was much too long and sticking to the face, obscuring its responses.
Blood is such a messy by-product.
The subject is now on day three of the experiment and its noises have finally begun to subside to quiet whimpers and burbling breaths. I am grateful for this. I’ve tried using gags in the past to muffle the noises, but found it limited the full impact of the results. I cannot let my own personal discomforts get in the way of such delicate findings.
I’ve been carefully logging its progress to these final moments, as always. Even the seemingly most insignificant detail is important. It is within these minute nuances that I am certain I will find that moment.
It’s coming. The eyes are beginning to fade. The twitching is slowing…
Nothing.
Damn! Another failed experiment.
I won’t give up. I can’t. The perfect final moment is out there merely waiting to be discovered.
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.

D.R.E.X. Blackout

After finding his family murdered, Matthew Burke is arrested and sentenced to life in prison. The next day he is mysteriously released and given a briefcase of money. Needing answers, Matthew finds a pile of old documents in his house and discovers his wife was once part of an organization called D.R.E.X, who were responsible for hunting and killing supernatural creatures. Even though D.R.E.X had been shut down for years, his wife was murdered just after she tried to reach them. Matthew reluctantly joins with the remnants of her old organization and investigates a new problem arising in France. But the more he discovers, the more he realizes how few people he can trust…

Available from Dark Recesses Publishing

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

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Chelle Storey-Daniel @burningeden @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

Posted on June 22, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Going Gently Into that Good Night
by Chelle Storey-Daniel

The world didn’t end with a whimper or a bang. It ended with a deafening silence.
It wasn’t so bad those first few months and no one lost hope while waiting for the earth to right itself. Life went on. But then the grocery stores ran as dry as the gasoline pumps, and starvation set in.  Zombies didn’t roam in this apocalypse, but I’ve learned that hungry humans are  more terrifying than any monster in any movie I’ve seen. Humanity fell apart with every sunken eye, hollowed cheek, and emaciated life that withered away. People killed over something as simple as a rotten apple. Hiding inside your home became a death sentence, so folks eventually abandoned their houses or died there trying to defend the nothing they hoarded.
I told myself in those early days and even beyond that I would fight and win.
I think I honestly believed it, too.
Hunger was a bitter taste, but I’d been tasting something different. I had tasted my own death approaching. I’d grown intimate with it and accepted it.
See, when I found this abandoned warehouse I figured I’d be safe from the cannibals and other things that go bump in the night. I didn’t feel like exploring the place at first and slept like a dead thing for hours on end. Yesterday, from a broken window, I watched a group of men kill and rip apart a beagle, probably once someone’s pet. They ate it raw.
I finally explored the warehouse because I was looking for a weapon just in case those men invaded my sanctuary.
I found something even better. I found food. Actual food. As last meals go, I’d say it turned out to be pretty bland and maybe a little acidic, but I can die saying I know what rat poison tastes like. I can scratch that off a bucket list that has never had anything scratched off it before. I found six boxes, and I devoured every last morsel as if it were pizza.
I’d made peace with the truth; the only defense against a life like this was a good death. I was going out on my own terms and with a full belly.
I hoped my flesh would poison the cannibals when they found me.
In the end, my world won’t end with a whimper or a bang. It will end with a deafening silence I will interrupt just long enough to sing myself to sleep.
Fiction © Copyright Chelle Storey-Daniel
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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Where can you find more of Chelle Storey-Daniel’s work?

For more of Chelle’s writing, please visit Burning Eden.

You can also find Chelle on her facebook page!

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

Posted on June 22, 2017 by Nina D'Arcangela

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Looking Up
by Rie Sheridan Rose

I suppose I asked for it, in a way. I simply had to know what it felt like. It looked so cool in the movies and on TV. Astral projection—out-of-body experience—whatever you called it. The consciousness drifting out of the body to wander around invisible.
I was obsessed by the idea. Read every book I could get my hands on, chatted on the Deep Web with people who claimed to have done it. I tried every method that I encountered. Nothing seemed to work. Until I met Devon.
Devon is a real witch—wiccan to the third generation. I learned so much…spells, curses, divination. And Devon taught me the secret of astral projection.
The first time I tried it, I stayed in my room…just looking down at myself. It was a real trip.
I had to do it again!
This time, I decided I’d venture down to the local tavern and spy on my friends. It was a very enlightening evening. I learned a lot of secrets that no one would have spilled in front of me.
But—here’s the thing… I know how to reenter my body. It’s simple. You just hover over your shell and just…sink into it.
But you can’t do that if you aren’t in the same room. And a non-corporeal being can’t open doors or climb stairs. That drifting through space in the media is a myth.
And there is one thing Devon never taught me…how to go up.
That’s my window—right up there. My body’s on the bed behind it. A lifeless empty shell.
And I’m stuck here…looking up.
Fiction © Copyright Rie Sheridan Rose
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Author Rie Sheridan Rose:

The Marvelous Mechanical Man
Book One of the Conn-Mann Chronicles

Josephine Mann is down to her last five dollars and in desperate need of a new job, when a chance encounter with Professor Alistair Conn completely upends her life. Soon she and her cat have steady employment, a new home, and a string of adventures that quite takes her breath away! Steampunk meets Dime-Novel in this first volume of The Conn-Mann Chronicles.

 

Available on Amazon!

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