Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Elaine Pascale @DocLaney @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on June 20, 2025 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Anything for Art 
by Elaine Pascale 

You believed the wood spoke to you.

At first, the voice guided you on design. It told you what to carve: a bird house, a chess set, aesthetic shelves. It was more than seeing shapes in the lumber, it was hearing actual words uttered in a very real voice that seemed to come from the wood.

Then, it promised sales, revenue, income…riches. The voice knew how to get you in front of the right people. The voice knew how to infiltrate a high-demand market.

The voice in the wood didn’t mind the bandsaw. It said that pain is an integral part of art. The voice hummed as you cut into the timber. It sang through the scorching slices.

“It’s for art,” it said as it instructed you to cut puzzle pieces. “Anything for art.”

Overtime, the voice weakened. Your pieces no longer sold.

It is now the saw that talks to you. It’s teeth gleam with hunger. It tells you that sacrifices are necessary. It reminds you, “anything for art.”

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Fiction © Copyright Elaine Pascale
Image courtesy of Pixaby.com

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More from Elaine Pascale:

TheKitchenWitches_ElainePascaleThe Kitchen Witches

The women of Cape Cod have a story that is dying to be told. If only they could live long enough to tell it.

When Fiona Walker is contracted to write about a party attended by her social circle, her friends begin dying. She captures the competition and misery of the women around her through three different stories.

In Wishes, Melanie Voss discovers a Time Between Time where nothing that happens counts. Initially, Time Between Time is a welcome escape from a life spent watching the clock while doing chores for her family. But something sinister is in the Time Between Time and it is headed straight for Melanie.

Death and Taxes tells the story of Nashville DeCota, the Cape Capo. Nash swears that she is not the Island Impaler, nor the Tooth Snatcher, but she has just as many skeletons in her closet. When her husband, Derrick, is kidnapped, she has to come clean about her crimes if she ever wants to see him again.

Fiona tells her own story in Hazing, where she finds that the real source of evil behind the deaths of her friends is worse than she could have ever imagined.

Available on Amazon!

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

Posted on May 30, 2025 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Glade of Obliquity
by Nina D’Arcangela

My hole you seek to lure me from

with stench of sweet sponge and rotting flora.

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I would far rather you not kill them, but let them grow.

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A simple plinth with false flame compares not

to the serpents of light that haunt from above.

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They slither through the canopy singeing leaf and bough as they writhe.

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Beauty, I see, as they light my enclave.

One day they will slink your sky, burn your land, destroy your people.

Then I will walk this earth free…

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free of your kind who proffer no kindness.

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More from Nina D’Arcangela:

Bent Metal

Where does reality end and dreamscape begin?

Woken each night by the sounds of screams and twisting metal, Lauren must relive the panic and fear of discovering her brother’s broken body on the asphalt. But each morning, she finds it’s only a dream… One she doesn’t want to keep having.

At what point does a dream become a nightmare, and a nightmare more than a figment of her subconscious?

.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Kim Richards @Kim_Richards @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on May 30, 2025 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Curiosity Kills
by Kim Richards 

There were eight of them. Squat orange clay pots with lids and sealed tightly centuries ago. Lihn brought each out of the cavern, cradling  them in her arms. Obviously made of thick clay, the pots were surprisingly light. She laid them out in a line on the ground. What could they contain? What was precious enough to seal up and bury this way? Something in the clay composition prevented her hand-held sonogram from revealing anything. The only way was to break them open, which potentially could destroy the contents.

The seals proved exceptionally frustrating. They looked like wax but quickly revealed to be something entirely different and unknown. Resistant to a chisel or knife tip. Prying was futile. Scraping did nothing, not even scratching the pot surface.

There was also the odd smell. Sandy soil certainly but with a musky underlying scent which lingered in the nose. She wondered if they contained organs similar to the ancient Egyptian canopic jars. Those typically are a set of four. Hmm…perhaps there are two people here. Spouses or siblings.

She tried turning one of them over in her hands. She held it up to her ear, tuning her hearing for any sound of something sloshing or tumbling inside. Nothing. Surely, the ancient peoples didn’t seal up empty  jars. There simply must be something inside.

She decided to apply heat, building a small fire low to the ground as if warming soup for dinner. She hoped it would soften the seals enough to open them. Tired, she sat cross-legged on the ground to wait and watch.

Pop!

Lihn’s eyes grew wide and she turned her head.

Pop! Pop!

She held her breath and moved to a low squatting position.

Then she saw the lids move on three of the pots. Toad green smoke wafted out of them. By the time the remaining five pots popped, the smoked thickened blinding Lihn and choking off her breath.

She tried to stand but stumbled as dizziness spun her vision around. The musky smell intensified, overpowering her senses. She fell hard, jolting her tailbone on the stones. Strange, it didn’t hurt.

Numbness moved across her limbs, her torso, her head. She lay back and succumbed to the darkness gathering around her body’s periphery. Then there was nothing.

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Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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

Posted on May 29, 2025 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Do They Think As We?
by Naching T. Kassa 

If the girl can see me, she gives no sign. She doesn’t seem to see anything but the screen in front of her face.

I used to see screens at the Institute all the time. Not the way a human sees screens, of course. No, I have too many eyes for that. They only have two. I don’t think they can see the things I see. They can’t see the pollen in the air or the complex hues of a flower petal. They can’t even see the enemies standing right behind them.

I suppose they can’t hear the things I hear either. Their language, that of the body, didn’t make sense to me at first. It wasn’t until I heard their strange sounds that I realized this was their prime means of communication.

Do they have all the senses I have? I don’t know. I don’t know if they can feel the things I feel or taste the things I taste. I know the scientist who developed us wondered if we sensed as they. Those scientists worked on developing our tiny brains. The funny thing is, they think they failed.

And so, they set us free. Free to do what our species has always done.

The girl ignores me as I continue my work. She’s wearing devices in her ears, things humans call “EarPods” or something like that. I have always wondered about those. Jaime, the janitor at the Institute, wore EarPods. He really liked a band called Metallica and one time, he set an EarPod down next to me. I couldn’t help dancing. Perhaps that’s the reason why the girl won’t pay attention to me. She can’t hear me.

Or perhaps, it’s because she’s so large and slow, she doesn’t really see me. I’ve tried so hard to warn her.

When the scientists failed with us (or believed they did), they decided to experiment with larger creatures. You see, they thought size was the problem. They wanted to work with much larger brains.

I try, once again, to warn the girl. She flicks a hand in annoyance, and the resulting wind blows me backward toward a wheat straw. As I pass by, I wonder about focus and whether I would be as obsessed as she. Would I ignore everything in my environment and remain solely focused on one thing? Would I fail to see the gargantuan hand reaching toward me? Would I die wondering what had struck me?

I lift my body high, just as the gigantic hand emerges from the earth and into the sky. I am out of the hand’s reach, but its path toward the girl is inexorable. I have done all I can to help her, and yet…I feel I have not done enough.

They say I was never meant to fly. My striped body is not aerodynamic.

I was never meant to think either.

But, I do.

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Fiction © Copyright Naching T. Kassa
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
 

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More from Naching T. Kassa:

NachingTKassa_SherlockHolmesAndTheArcanaOfMadnessSherlock Holmes and The Arcana of Madness: A Horror Mystery

Discover the untold mysteries of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson in Sherlock Holmes and the Arcana of Madness, a trilogy that unveils three captivating cases intertwined with the mystical allure of tarot cards, designed by the renowned, yet infamous artist, Richard Dadd.

A collection of manuscripts, meticulously penned by John H. Watson M.D., is unearthed in 2019 amidst the restoration of Broadmoor Hospital, found inexplicably in the grave of Richard Dadd. The manuscripts’ concealed journey and their remaining unpublished raise a myriad of questions, enveloping them in a veil of mystery.

Available on Amazon!

 

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Scarlett R. Algee @ScarlettRAlgee @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on May 29, 2025 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Rid
by Scarlett R. Algee 

Since the day I killed you, in a certain type of sunlight, I can see your blood seeping out through the masonry and oozing down the surface of the bricks, pooling in the joints of the mortar. I’ve soaped and scrubbed and pressure washed, but come every evening the red slick of it is still there.

Maybe I shouldn’t have put your heart in the wall.

Since the day I killed you, in a certain type of rain you leak through the ceiling and fall on me in great red drops: on the couch, on the recliner, on the half of our bed that I still occupy. I’ve moved the furniture and sealed the drywall and every time there’s thunder in the west you still drip through.

Maybe I shouldn’t have left your bones in the attic.

Since the day I killed you, on certain days you erupt as round red patches on the linoleum of the back porch, dusty and dry. I’ve tried a mop and tried a brush and the only thing that shifts you is hard strokes of an old straw broom, the patches spreading and widening as I shove them to the door, where they curl and detach and waft out into the air in uncertain flight: back to the attic, back to the wall.

Maybe someday there won’t be thunder, won’t be sunlight, and I can rid this house of you.

Maybe.

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Fiction © Copyright Scarlett R. Algee
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Scarlett R. Algee:

The Lift: Nine Stories of Transformation, Volume One

The hall is dark and the overhead light flickers. Sounds echo, and there’s a creaking and clanging that gets louder as you stand in the semi-dark. The elevator opens and you’re offered a ride. Step inside and ride it to the story chosen for your transformation. Don’t be afraid, for Victoria, the mysterious girl who operates The Lift, waits to guide you. Set in the same world as the award nominated audio drama, The Lift’s first written anthology features nine all new stories by fan favorite writers and special bonus content by creators Daniel Foytik and Cynthia Lowman. The collection is brought to life with beautiful illustrations by Jeanette Andromeda for each story.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Satcha Russell @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on May 28, 2025 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Eternal Consort 
by Satcha Russell 

The eternal consort waited within as Petra approached the place of consecration. She only had her imaginings of what it looked like. No one who entered ever returned. It was the doorway to the underworld, the portal to the other side, and once you crossed, you could not cross back.

But this year, she’d been chosen as the annual giving, and thus her destiny led her to this peaceful looking deception. She had no idea what it was like on the other side. Only that she’d be the everlasting concubine to the Lord of Below.

She wasn’t sure if she should take a slice of cake or not. Was it no more than an illusion to help with the unease that accompanies anyone sent there?

Petra stood in the doorway and peered inside. She could see nothing, but felt a subtle breeze against her face. When she put one foot across the threshold, the soft wind turned to a howl and she felt herself pulled in. She gripped the sides of the door and tried to hold on, but the force was too strong. One by one, her fingers slipped and she was sucked into the gateway, damned to an afterlife of hell.

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Fiction © Copyright Satcha Russell
Image courtesy of Pixabay
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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Nina D’Arcangela @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on May 28, 2025 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

All Flavors
by Nina D’Arcangela

You wouldn’t think such a thing of me, but that doesn’t make it untrue. You don’t want to believe I would do such as this, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. You, of what you perceive to be a higher nature, claim you wouldn’t commit the atrocities I have, but that doesn’t make you better than me.

What would you do to save your own? Would you debase that moral turpitude you carry so pretentiously? Would you lower yourself to any level necessary to ensure your survival? Of course you would, don’t posture and preen while I get my hands dirty. You are no different…

Well, maybe you are a bit different. You see, you hear, you feel. You can scent a fragrance on the air, taste its tang on your tongue. But you cannot see past the smaller task, hear the pleas of our ancestors, throb with the wail of babes unborn. You can’t stand the smell of the offal, nor ingest the entrails to read a true intent – I can. I can do these things and more.

Don’t worry, your failed gratitude won’t stop me from performing as I must. A wolf in sheep’s clothing? Nay, a warrior from time immemorial hiding in plain sight, that’s what I am. And I will conquer our enemies to keep your hands clean. What do I ask in return? When the fight is over, the battle won, do not burn me as I burn those who have affronted us; I will not tolerate that again.

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More from Nina D’Arcangela:

Bent Metal

Where does reality end and dreamscape begin?

Woken each night by the sounds of screams and twisting metal, Lauren must relive the panic and fear of discovering her brother’s broken body on the asphalt. But each morning, she finds it’s only a dream… One she doesn’t want to keep having.

At what point does a dream become a nightmare, and a nightmare more than a figment of her subconscious?

.

Available on Amazon!

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

Posted on May 27, 2025 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

A Time for Planting 
by Marge Simon 

She planted a garden that spring, and by fall had canned the resulting peas, squash and tomatoes. During the long winter, she dreamed of sharing her harvest with the handsome sailor who had promised to return.

She lit tapers of perfumed candles, crocheted a blanket to warm his legs, prepared her body with sweet lotions so that he might find her fairer still when he came back from the sea. Yet no letters arrived, his kisses remained a wistful dream, as were his arms, his hands so large around her own, so comforting.

Then one fine morning in early spring when the dew was sparkling on new blooms, and with all tasks ahead to start afresh, she took her shovel to the garden. Very soon, as it was not deep beneath, she found that hand that once had held her own.

A certain flavor in his parting kiss, a sign he never would return–could she have caught him unawares with the very tool that she now grasped? Surely that could not be so!

Knocking the bones aside, she sighed, wiped her nose and began to spade.

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Fiction © Copyright Marge Simon
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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More from Marge Simon:

MargeSimon_CastFromDarkness

Cast from Darkness
by Marge Simon and‎ Mary Turzillo

Cast from Darkness is another triumphant collaboration between award-winning Speculative poets, Marge Simon and Mary Turzillo.

The poetry includes themes running the spectrum of the speculative genres and forms ranging from the haiku through many nuances of vere libre to the prose poem.

Available on Amazon!

 

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Kendra Smart @DevourAllWords @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on May 27, 2025 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Time To Play The Game 
by Kendra Smart  

The night had come, the die ready to be cast.

Four weary, but excited, warriors glory and conquest. 

Accolades and spun stories of courageous deeds were what names were attributed to. 

The bards sang the songs, the tavern girls danced and swayed, temptresses after blokes with no clue. 

Incense lit to fill the room, goblets for the wine. 

Notepads at the ready, these ethereal beings were ready for their time to shine. 

Their journey had already spanned for months on end.

But what is time but memories and moments best spent with friends?

A campaign written painstakingly, with the utmost care and research. 

An adventure to end all adventures, the warriors approached their individual perches. 

The table had been laid with care, attention to detail, lots of flair. 

A curtain cloaks the reason they are here, the end of the journey a gamble, nay a dire dare. 

Familiar boom as the voice beckons them to sit, fates sealed. 

Decisions made, world shifted, battered and bruised but enemies left far worse…closer ever closer to the reveal.

Hours passed, the moon now high, a foreboding anxiety settling as before the cloak our warriors arrived. 

The room barely lit by the sparsely placed candles, but the smoke thrived. 

A warning in the form of a tale, the lost heirloom now rightfully restored with a buy.

A Totem passed down, meant to test the heart, held breathes, not even a sigh. 

But all warnings now given, a flourish of the hand. 

The cloak now gone, but nothing there, a gasp of a grasp to try to understand. 

But foolish beings, both foul smell and acrid breath fill the air. 

The warriors knees made audible knocks, undeniable fear.

For what had once been slightly heavy, feeling made of wood. 

Now stood over twelve feet high and its maw smelled sour, like Dogwood.

The first warrior shifted too soon. 

Scared, he ran, but torn asunder became like a cartoon cowboy using a spittoon. 

Hard to deny, a reality playing out before your eyes.

But as survival instincts kicked in, “Run you guys!”

A gambit of the worst kind. 

What is real is far harder to slay than those imaginary creatures of the mind. 

Being able to escape together, complete and utter folly. 

No longer a united front, real characters shown without a breath for “I’m sorry.”

Hearing screams, the final warrior made it outside. 

No time to waste, he turned through the back rooms and back alley way, “I’m alive…”

The last thing in his vision, the brick split by freedom. 

But the family heirloom had a debt, unpayable by card, and our Dungeon Master now faced his family’s demon. 

“Choose wisely your words, our ancestors mapped our bones. Tsk, tsk you are never alone.”

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Fiction © Copyright Kendra Smart
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Kendra Smart:

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Just Emotions:
A Gothic Bite Magazine Anthology

A collection of poetry.

‘Just Emotions‘ is exactly as it states, a group of writers who had feelings they wanted to express in poem form. Inside, there are a range of emotions to explore. Each writer has given a bit of themselves to you, each in their own way.

We hope that you enjoy these writings and that among the poems you may find some thing you can identify with or relate to. Thank you for giving us this chance to open the catacombs and share with you.

Available on Amazon!  

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Angela Yuriko Smith @AngelaYSmith @darc_nina #LoH

Posted on May 26, 2025 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

First Contact Party
by Angela Yuriko Smith

Apologies to the Foil Hat Brigade, you were right all along. Officials finally coughed up the truth, vindicating conspiracy in whispered press conferences, blurred footage and testimonies mumbled in congressional monotone. Lizard people, shape-shifters, light beings. Not new, they said—just newly verified. We sat as a nation, collectively stunned and trying to decide if we were more afraid of aliens among us, or that they’d been here all along. Can reptilian overlords run for office? we whisper-shrieked as we hid from the stars. We connected dots and dot points. Is this the beginning of our end or the end of our beginning…


…and then we watched a comet in reverse, a shooting star leaving us and our blue marble to burn as one more billionaire launched himself into space and new frontiers while the rest of us rationed hope and water and life. He left his baggage behind: 2.1 billion tons of Municipal Solid Waste, 220 million tons of plastic, and 150 million tons of trash for our land-already-fulls. These were the souvenirs of progress, he said, and told us we should be proud. As we watched his chem trails bleed to dark, we realized the aliens were an unknown option, but the known was a nightmare.

I hang streamers high
and make some foil party hats—
welcome, honored guests.

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More from Angela Yuriko Smith:

Angela Yuriko Smith is a third-generation Ryukyuan-American, award-winning poet, author, and publisher with 20+ years in newspapers. Publisher of Space and Time magazine (est. 1966), two-time Bram Stoker Awards® Winner, and HWA Mentor of the Year, she shares Authortunities, a free weekly calendar of author opportunities at authortunities.substack.com.

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