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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Xingirl
by K.R. Morrison

Ryan needed space.

This is what he’d told his friends and family. A time to get his head around his current life situation, without unneeded help from those around him.

He sure had that space now…

In fact, he had no idea where he was. Only that he was in the uncharted depths of a mountain forest somewhere in China. He had started out in a remote place that morning, but even then he’d had some idea as to where he was.

Now it was growing late, he had run out of food and water, and the batteries on everything he had with him were low or completely shot.

He stumbled forward through the gathering dusk, hoping and praying that he would come across someone, somewhere, who could point him to sanctuary from the coming night.

The weak beam from his flashlight had all but petered out when he saw a sight that sent his heart leaping with joy. A light flickered ahead of him, and without thought he flew toward it. Funny how very much like moths we are when the light becomes paramount.

He stopped short at the edge of a small clearing, where he beheld an old man sitting before a blazing fire. He looked up, startled, at Ryan’s presence.

Ryan paused, wondering how he would communicate. He didn’t know the language, never imagining that he would be in a place that didn’t know his own tongue.

He opened his mouth to make an attempt, but to his surprise the old man just grinned and indicated a spot beside him. He produced a plate and filled it with fish from the grill over the fire.

Ryan, tears in his eyes, sat down beside him. The fish was hot from the fire, but he wolfed it down regardless of the heat.

Then the man produced some water, and his new companion spent no time washing it down.

There was a noise outside of the light, in the now-complete darkness that surrounded them. Ryan tensed as he saw a figure coming toward him.

Then, biggest wonder of all, a beautiful young woman stepped into the firelight. Ryan’s jaw dropped as she came closer. He’d never seen such a beautiful creature.

She sat next to him, and Ryan became awash in exhilaration. Or was it something else? He wasn’t sure anymore.

They didn’t talk much. Ryan told her his name, and she had indicated that hers was something like “Shing.” The old man offered his name also, but Ryan hardly heard him. Something like “Yeren.”

Now Ryan found himself in a dazed semi-swoon. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He was tired beyond comprehension. So much so that he was starting to hallucinate.

He blinked a few times, not willing to believe what he was seeing. Until she reached an arm around him and…

…picked him up from where he sat! He was so terrified that he couldn’t even let out a scream.

The now-animal dragged him off into the mountains, struggling and kicking but to no avail.

The old man watched, still smiling. Yes, his daughter had made a good choice. His people would live on.

.
 
Fiction © Copyright K.R. Morrison
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
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More from K.R. Morrison:

Enoch’s Return: Pride’s Downfall Book 4

All hell broke loose, as demon fought saint, and undead fought mortal. Fangs and swords, fire and light, mingled in a cacophony of noise that would have awakened the dead — if they hadn’t already been in the pitch of battle.

Toby was looking forward to celebrating his 21st birthday with family and friends. However, the day is shattered by the arrival of his sister, Erica, fresh out of the juvenile detention center, where she has lived in isolation most of her life. There is something very wrong with her still; witness her biting the ear of her taxi driver and licking the blood from her lips, and the way she antagonizes everyone around her. The other thing that is very off-putting about the day is a gift he receives – a musty tent and a few iron spikes that have been lying in the ground for years. Toby faints at the sight of the “treasure,” while Erica reacts violently and runs off to who-knows-where.
While he is unconscious, Toby learns who he truly is, and of his mission.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Mary Ann Peden-Coviello @MAPedenCoviello @darc_nina #LoH

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Queen
by Mary Ann Peden-Coviello

Velma Wintergreen, associate city planner for the city of St. Charles, walked to the Metro station. She kept her eyes down, avoiding confrontation with the more aggressive denizens of the sidewalks. Thank you very much, she had quite enough confrontation in her job. She was jostled and shoved a bit as she found her way to the platform. Scrambling aboard the Metro car challenged her patience as well. No one obeyed the mechanical voice telling people to let disembarking passengers leave first. Of course not. Everyone tried to board while everyone else was trying to disembark. Elbows and curses flew. Velma leapt aboard moments ahead of the closing doors.

She grabbed a strap and hung on. A man – none too clean and reeking of alcohol even at this early hour – groped Velma’s hip. She leaned away from him. When she did, she bumped into the woman standing in front of her.

“Hey! Watch it, sister!”

“I’m sorry. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, well, don’t do it again.”

Velma closed her eyes. The Queen – fierce, armor-clad, take-no-prisoners warrior – stepped into view behind her eyelids. Iklwa in one hand, knobkerrie in the other, assegai strapped to her back, she simply laid waste to the entire car, wading ankle-deep in blood, wreaking a terrible vengeance on all who had so much as annoyed Velma this morning.

Velma’s stop was called. She opened her eyes and joined the mob fighting its way out of the completely unblood-filled car and back to the surface. The Queen had been Velma’s escape valve for decades. When being The Good One or The Quiet One or The Studious One had become too much to bear, Velma had called up the Queen. Since being promoted to associate city planner, Velma had found herself relying on the Queen ever more often.

On this morning, before Velma even got from the Metro station to her office, the Queen had dealt with an elevator car of people who deliberately refused to hold the door so Velma was forced to wait for the next car (they never knew they’d all been set afire); and a janitor who intentionally – she was sure of it –sloshed soapy water onto her new shoes and then laughed at her indignant response (not that he knew his head had been bashed in with a knobkerrie).

Therefore, Velma was in no mood for his shenanigans when a real estate developer, Robert Drummond, thundered into her office mid-morning, bellowing about how some old broad was stopping his entire project by refusing to sell her ratty old house to him. And what was Velma Wintergreen, associate city planner, gonna do about it?

She spent a moment glancing at his paperwork. 

“Not a thing, Mr. Drummond. She’s up to date in her taxes. She owns the property outright. There’s not a plausible reason to claim eminent domain. I don’t see anything my office can do.”

Robert Drummond puffed himself up like an angry toad. Even his hair, teased into an Elvis-like pompadour, quivered with rage. “Do you know who I am, you jumped up little nobody? I play golf with the mayor. I have dinner with your boss. I will make this old broad’s life a living hell till she sells out to me.  What’s more, I’ll make your life one, too.” He leaned back in his chair, puckering his mouth into a tight doughnut, seeming sure he’d won.

Velma stood slowly.  The Queen rose behind her eyes, looked through her eyes. Speared Robert Drummond’s eyes with her gaze and held it. The Queen spoke through Velma’s mouth. Slowly. Each word its own sentence.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Office. Get. Out. Of. My. Sight. Never. Cross. My. Path. Again.”

She was barely aware of the little trickle of blood that dripped from his right ear. He stumbled out of her office, never taking his terrified eyes off her.

Exhausted, she dropped into her chair. Something rattled in her hair. She put up a hand. Beads. She pulled her little hand mirror out of her desk drawer. 

Red beads like the ones the Queen wore were woven through braids in Velma’s black hair. Beads and braids that hadn’t been there earlier.

Fiction © Copyright Mary Ann Peden-Coviello
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 
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More from Mary Ann Peden-Coviello:

maryannpedencoviello_frightmare

Fright 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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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Melissa R. Mendelson @fallenhazel @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Machines Had Taken Over
by Melissa R. Mendelson

The machines control us now.

So, click, like, and subscribe,

and follow.

Do not pull the thread,

or you unravel.

Just click, like, and subscribe,

and you follow.

Don’t blink, think,

or believe you are different.

Stay and click, like, and subscribe,

and keep following.

Don’t pull away.

You only matter as long as your fingers keep moving,

and follow.

And forget that buzzing in the back of your head

for thought no longer matters.

Emotion is dead.

She is locked far away,

wrapped tightly in circuitry arms,

slowly suffocating from the algorithm

eating you alive,

but don’t worry.

You won’t feel a thing

as long as you 

click, like, and subscribe.

You want to live?

Then, you will follow.

 

.

Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
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About Author Melissa R. Mendelson:

Melissa R. Mendelson is a horror, science-fiction and dystopian author and poet.  She has two publications with Wild Ink Publishing.  One is a prose poetry collection, This Will Remain With Us, and the other is a short story collection, Stories Written On Covid Walls.  She also self-published a sci-fi novella, Waken and a small short story collection, Name’s Keeper.

If you’d like to learn more about Melissa, you can visit her accounts here: www.MelissaMendelson.com

 
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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Alex Grehy @indigodreamers @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Queen of the Night  
by Alex Grehy

Amadeus gave me the best tunes, as

befits the devil he believed me to be,

demonic, of the dark, female.

And at the end of his tale, my daughter weds,

as befits a young woman, adoring acolyte 

to a priest of the light, who proclaims victory.

Know you this, the light can NEVER win, it 

is so difficult, so costly, to sustain, for fuel is

finite and even the sun will burn out one day.

I am the dark, always present, for the light

creates shadows; in the encroaching night

their small fires are not equal to my power.

One day my daughter will understand that the 

love she was promised was shackled to more

onerous obligations – duty, expectation, obedience.

One day, she will see that their light is fixed on her 

shortcomings, shading her strength, concealing her

resolve; when she flees their constraints, I will be her shield.

She will return to me, wiser, for we are women, mothers, goddesses.

Our darkness needs no resource beyond endurance, our patient 

fortitude will conquer, and we will write our own melodies.

.

Fiction © Copyright Alex Grehy
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Alex Grehy:

Last Species Standing

Alex Grehy (she/her) enjoys writing quirky, thought-provoking horror and is a regular contributor to The Sirens Call and Ladies of Horror Flash Project. Her fiction and essays on being a lady of horror have featured in a range of publications, including Spread: Tales of Deadly Flora. Alex’s first poetry collection, Last Species Standing, which explores mankind’s relationship with nature and technology, is available on Amazon.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Jaime Johnesee @JaimeJohnesee @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Lady Samurai
by Jaime Johnesee

Ōhōri Tsuruhime slid through the trees quietly, leading the samurai to the beach in the cover of the pitch black night to defend Ōmishima from the Ōuchi. This is a legend that none can contest. 

What they do not speak of in history books was how difficult it was for her to betray and kill her Ōuchi lover to do so. 

Tsuruhime overheard her lover’s plans, pained by his conspiring against her, she had no choice but to take his head. 

Hearing his plots, she let her arrows loose into the bodies of his counsel, as she rushed to him, pulling his beloved blade from his sheath and putting it to his neck. 

“How could you?” She growled at him, her voice shaking with rage, hurt, and betrayal.

“The money made it easier, ” he shrugged, certain she would not harm him; she was only a woman, after all.

His blade cut right through his neck with ease, proof of his care and maintenance of the weapon. His eyes remained open in shock, and terror. She tossed his head onto the lap of his deceased advisor, and took his sword. She wiped his blood off of it and onto his robes, removed the sheath from his corpse, and stowed her new weapon.

Then, Ōhōri Tsuruhime assembled her army and made at once to those aforementioned beaches to kill the invading forces that her lover had metaphorically knifed her in the back for. 

As she fought them, she did so covered in the blood of the lover who betrayed her, giving her a ferocious appearance and terrifying many enemy soldiers into running away.

She, and her army drove back the invading forces and saved their land. Its soil now stained eternally in the blood of their enemies.

Eventually, the blood spilled was forgotten, so too was the betrayal. In the end, the only thing that mattered was the heroism she showed, the selflessness and brave leadership she is known for. And that is the legend Ōhōri Tsuruhime leaves upon this world. 

Fiction © Copyright Jaime Johnesee
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
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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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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Amanda Worthington @AmandaW58679588 @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Phoenix Arise
by Amanda Worthington

Phoenix rises and stretches

Damnation made flesh

Glistening in the low light

Of the flames that birthed her

The dying world of men lain at her feet

Like a meager offering

After mass murder

She must do better.

Their faults are her own

For did she not hold them in her heart

And grow them in her bones?

And tear them apart with her absence?

When she multiplies this time

After her union with forces unseen

She will present the void not with offspring that are the strongest and fastest

But ones designed as architects of restraint and peace

Now, she is not yet strong enough to breed

Though Chaos has yet to voice his complaint

The holy fires turn her skin the color of promise

And she knows that when they go out

She will be the only light that remains

Then she will let the dark in again

Heed that ancient god’s call

And they will speak

Of the life and the death

They each in their own measure contain

And the new cycle will begin

The sins of the fathers forgotten

In the heat of renewal

And something new will crawl from the soot

The goddess of second chances breathes in sulfur and ash

And the scent of approaching fate

Stills her still-liquid core

Centers herself

And waits

.

.

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Christina Sng @ChristinaSng @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


Breath  
by Christina Sng 

Slowly,
I turn to fog,
Returning to my core,
Returning to the sky.


Once I was soil,
Holding on to life,
Tiny seedlings
Aching to be born.


Most curdled
And died,
Returning to fertilize
The ground.


Others dreamed
Of distant shores,
And tore their way out
To the sun.


They grew
And transformed,
Transformed
And grew.


They spread
All over the land,
Devouring me,
Suffocating me


Until I choked
And flailed,
Clawing the edges
Of the globe.


I shattered,
Shards of me
Scattered
Into space


Drifting endlessly
Until I became
Nothing more
Than dreams

.

Than breath,
Dissipating
Into the Universe.
Once abundant life—


Now eternal death.

 
Fiction © Copyright Christina Sng
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
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More from Christina Sng:

A Collection of Nightmares

Hold your screams and enter a world of seasonal creatures, dreams of bones, and confessions modeled from open eyes and endless insomnia. Christina Sng’s A Collection of Nightmares is a poetic feast of sleeplessness and shadows, an exquisite exhibition of fear and things better left unsaid. Here are ramblings at the end of the world and a path that leads to a thousand paper cuts at the hands of a skin carver. There are crawlspace whispers, and fresh sheets gently washed with sacrifice and poison, and if you’re careful in this ghost month, these poems will call upon the succubus to tend to your flesh wounds and scars.
These nightmares are sweeping fantasies that electrocute the senses as much as they dull the ache of loneliness by showing you what’s hiding under your bed, in the back of your closet, and inside your head. Sng’s poems dissect and flower, her autopsies are delicate blooms dressed with blood and syntax. Her words are charcoal and cotton, safe yet dressed in an executioner’s garb.
Dream carefully.
You’ve already made your bed.
The nightmares you have now will not be kind.
And you have no one to blame but yourself.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Elizabeth H. Smith @bethsmithwrites @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Formidable Gift
by Elizabeth H. Smith

She gazed down at her subjects and remembered the misery they once inflicted. She’d been taunted, shunned, cast away, and reviled in every form by those who now kneeled at her feet, praying for mercy. The awful wretch they saw, they created by treating her as such. The monster they believed her to be, she became.

She never wanted to be the wicked thing she was. She never asked for it. But one day when she’d finally broken, she decided to journey to the top of the mountain, to seek the beings who lived in the caves there. Maybe they’d accept her, maybe they wouldn’t throw her away.

The villagers laughed, assured her she would die. Alone, with meager supplies and no preparation, she went anyway. She reasoned it would be better than spending her life surrounded by hatred.

When she finally reached the peak, starving and delirious with exhaustion, she found the cave dwellers. They carried her into their home, warmed her body, and provided food and water. They cared for her until she recovered.

When she gained enough strength to speak, she asked them, “Why have you cared for me?”

“You are like us,” they said. “And so you shall be forever.”

When she left the cave, she felt no cold, no hunger, no fear. The trek down drained no energy. Not a single muscle tired. She felt anew with life, imbued with raw vigor. When she returned to the village, everyone stared with wide eyes and slack jaws.

When she saw her reflection in the village well, she saw why. She’d not returned as the person who left. Something different had come back, something other than the meager woman plagued by disdain all her life. Something unnatural.

The cave dwellers had given her a gift. One she could use however she wished.

She decided then, she would be their queen, and they, her people.

.

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More About Elizabeth H. Smith:
Elizabeth H. Smith is a storyteller who writes while trying to keep her cat, Luna off the keyboard. The musical group, Rasputina is her muse. She was born in the state of New York and would never feel at home anywhere else.

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author A.F. Stewart @scribe77 @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

When the Red Leaves Fall
by A.F. Stewart

Aka knew she would soon be tested, for the change of seasons was fast approaching.

Turning her head, she glanced at the lofty Temple of Bones, her home for as long as she could remember. The grand, sprawling structure towered over the bucolic countryside, looming from its hilltop, a fierce guardian for the people. Studying the impressive walls, she stared into the hollow eyes of its exterior skulls and shivered, yet took macabre comfort in their existence; her fallen sisters grinning defiance at the world and extinction.

Aka wonderful if this would be her fate in the coming days. One more brief life standing an enduring guard for eternity. Her answer would come shortly.

Such was the life of a Warrior Daughter of the Moon. 

The summer waned, and the moon goddess painted the trees red with her blood, her warning for the Ascension. The gentle heat of the sun god faded with each day, swirling into the shadows of the moon and the chill of the bitter winter goddess.

Aka, and the other Daughters of the Temple, prepared. 

With each cool breeze, the Ascension drew closer. The new acolytes prayed for the favour of the moon goddess, the veterans offered gifts for her continued loyalty. All sharpened their weapons and their battle skills.

Aka prayed for blessings and courage.

She prayed to fight with honour and survive.

And she waited. For the first crimson leaf to drift to earth…

Crisp morning air slapped her face as the battle horn sounded, as she and her sisters raced from the temple. They ran, legs pounding, dust rising, under grey skies, the smell of smoke and sulphur choking the air. Side by side they sped, weapons raised, honed into battle sisters, an armoured shield of protection.

They ran to their destiny.

They ran to fight the Ascension.

Formations locked as the first wave of demons rose from beneath the dirt. Steel blades met claws, shields met fiery breath and teeth. Resonant life teetered on the edge of moonkissed death as both demon and daughter clashed, fluid and blood arcing through the morning air, spattering the world.

Aka surged to the front line.

First blood, the first demon death, was hers.

Her heart sang, her limbs strengthened. Her blade slashed. Stroke after stroke, as the Daughters pushed back the demons. 

She knew.

The goddess favoured her… 

At the end of their victorious conflict, Aka wiped a smear of blood from her face, and walked among the bodies, demon and Daughter alike. Another year holding back the hoard, another year of peace for their people. As her feet slowed, as she neared the edge of the battlefield, she bowed her head in prayer for her fallen sisters. More skulls would adorn the walls.

But not hers. Not this year.

Her day on the wall would wait.

.

 
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More from A.F. Stewart:

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Visions and Nightmares

Tragedy spares no one… and takes no prisoners.
In the twilight shadows, secrets are revealed past the whispers of madness.

Wander into the realm of the old gods with Elenora, where humanity and marriage are a prison.
Step through a looking glass of dark horrors with an Alice you never knew.
Join with Zenna to seek the truth as her death by magic grows closer.
Journey with Olivia as she crosses paths with a monster of the forest and runs for her life.
Watch Isobel summon the faerie to solve her problem of an unwanted husband.
Shiver as Doctor Killbride experiments with corpses to create life from death.
All that and more await within the pages.

Ten stories. Ten women.
Who will survive? Who will fall? And who will succumb to their inner evil?
Find out in Visions and Nightmares.

Warning: This book contains disturbing scenes that may be upsetting to some readers.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Kathleen McCluskey @KathleenMcClus4 @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


The Black Queen of Briar End
by Kathleen McCluskey

   Wonderland had two horizons.

   At the eastern edge where the sun burned itself into exhaustion, the Red Queen kept her garden in hysterical bloom. Roses split open too wide. Tulips arched like throats about to scream. The air was thick with honey and applause and nothing was permitted to wilt. Even the hedgehog trembled in bright, obedient terror.

   At the western edge, where the light thinned into violet and the trees grew thorns instead of leaves, the Black Queen kept her court.

   Her castle was grown, not built. Spires of briar twisted upward like ribs. The moat was a mirror of ink. No one painted her roses. They bled naturally.

   The Red Queen ruled what was seen in Wonderland.

   Her sister ruled what was avoided.

   Travelers who wandered too far from the croquet court found the laughter fading behind them. The path narrowed. The chessboard stones cracked and gave way to damp soil. There were bones there, small delicate things picked clean and polished by careful teeth.

   The Jabberwocky slept at the Black Queen’s gates, its vast body coiled around thorned pillars like a living drawbridge. Its eyes rolled under translucent lids, dreaming of necks and soft armor. When it breathed, the trees leaned away.

   He belonged to her.

   All the creatures that slithered out of nightmares belonged to her. Bandersnatches with wet fur and backward knees. Things that grinned too wide and hummed before they fed.

   The Red Queen and her Heart generals called them monsters.

   The Black Queen called them subjects.

   Once each year, when the roses are at their most vibrant, the sisters meet at the center of Wonderland where the light failed to choose a side. The ground there was part ash and part grass. 

   “You let your… subjects stray,” the Red Queen said. Her silk skirt snapped like banners in a relentless wind. “Three children missing from the tea fields.”

   “They crossed into my realm,” said the Black Queen. Her voice was as calm as the falling ash. Her gown moved like slow smoke, stitched with the shimmer of beetle wings. A crown of blackened gold sat upon her head, delicate skulls woven into its arches so finely they looked like lace. “You should fence your borders.”

   “You could send them back.”

   “Sometimes I do.”

   The Red Queen smiled, sharp and white. “In pieces.”

   The Black Queen regarded her sister with a quiet patience that had always unsettled the court at Briar End. The Red Queen burned with color and temper, she seemed carved from something colder, like the deep roots of the forest that bordered the land.

   “You mistake hunger for cruelty.” She finally said.

   Behind her the Jabberwocky stirred.

   The creature’s enormous body shifted against the briar towers, scales grinding together with a deep, rasping sound. One vast eyelid opened. Gold and ancient, focused on the Red Queen that was neither loyalty nor malice. Thorned barnacles snapped softly beneath its weight as it uncoiled another length of its body. The air filled with the sound of restless wings that were deciding to stretch.

   For the first time the Red Queen’s smile faltered.

   At that same moment, the soldiers along the Black Queen’s walls moved.

   They did not shuffle or look to one another for direction, The change came all at once, like a single thought passing through a hundred minds. Grey banners stitched with black spades and clubs snapped in the wind as the ranks straightened.

   Every helmet turned toward the border.

   Across the field of endless daylight lay the Red Queen’s Heart army. She watched the formation gather itself with mechanical precision.

   “You bring your pet to frighten me?”

   “They wake when the balance tilts, they always have.” The Jabberwocky, now fully awake, centered its eyes on the far, sun filled horizon.

   The Red Queen laughed, high and brittle. “You wouldn’t dare.”

   The Black Queen regarded her, the wind moving slowly between the folds of her gown while her banners stirred above the quiet ranks behind her. Then she stepped forward, crossing the unseen line between their domains.

   The grass beneath her boot instantly withered and turned to ash. It did not burn or smoke. The life in it simply ended, the green collapsing into a soft grey powder that lifted and floated in the breeze.

   Behind her the Jabberwocky rose higher, stretching its great span of wings, while along the walls the soldiers lowered their weapons in unison.

   “You forget yourself, sister.” The Red Queen said.

   The Black Queen’s voice remained calm. “You have had your endless afternoon,” she said softly. “But every garden must know the evening.”

   And she took another step.

Fiction © Copyright Kathleen McCluskey
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 
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More from Kathleen McCluskey:

The Long Fall: Book 1: The Inception of Horror

Lucifer always cunning and intelligent challenges father to a battle of wits. Being the angel of light he casts a judgemental eye upon mankind. He begins a war with his fellow archangels and God. Michael, along with his siblings defend their home and mankind from their deranged brother. Broad swords and hand to hand combat drench heaven in blood. The four apocalyptic steeds are released, each having their own destructive power. Betrayal and lust are at biblical levels. Understand the very creation of evil and the consequenses that transpire in the first of THE LONG FALL series.

Available on Amazon!

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