Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Amanda Worthington @AmandaW58679588 @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Ocean Park Motel
by Amanda Worthington

The Ocean Park Motel exists on the periphery of things

As the world shrinks around it, it grows

Somehow without dominating the landscape

Like the suffusion of sunlight before daybreak

And no one is quite sure how the neon in the sign still glows

The letters are like fire beckoning on a cold night

Welcoming and taunting in the same smoky breath

Despite the foreboding that gnaws at bones

Heavy with the trial of surviving

The Desperate ask no questions.

Relief washes over their faces when they see it

And agony chases it away just as fast

As they realize they have nothing with which to pay

That’s when he appears at the doorway, lantern raised

Invites them to join him as he sits down to dinner

He has a world-weary look about him, this bringer of light

Like he too has known exile from hope

And they are moved to trust him

He offers them each a room if they sign on the dotted line

Bellies full of bread and lies, the scrabble for the pen he produces

From the depths of his dark robe

The innkeeper collects his fee at a time of his choosing

In the currency he deems best

Do not ask me how I know.

I watched as their light dimmed

Could have sworn the sign grew brighter

As they were made to complete the tasks that unmoored them, left them husks

I tried to bring myself to brave the fierce cold again

So certain that I would be next

But as the wind burned my face, I wondered how bad it would really be

To be reduced as my cohabitants had been

That is when he came before me:

“The time has come. My price to stay is simple. You must give me what you are best at.”

I averted my gaze, but he knew – there was no way he could not.

“I haven’t done that in a long time. Not since the war,” I begged.

“Soldier, do not attempt to deceive the Great Deceiver. I know your heart.”

Flushed with anger, the old man grew bold

“Now slaughter them or face the eternal cold.”

And as I awaken in the frigid dark where once I dreamed the sun struggled to rise

I try to recall what choice I made

And search for some vestige of my soul in this wasteland.

The crunching of snow announces her approach.

Instinctually, I draw my knife and raise my hand to do what I am best at

To see if it can be done

And then our eyes meet.

She does not look damned

The knife falls to the dying earth

And I choose the Hell of never knowing

.

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Wicked Deeds: Witches, Warlocks, Demons and Other Evil Doer’s

Sometimes wicked people do wicked things simply because they can… The twelve stories in Wicked Deeds tell tales of witches and warlocks with ill intent, devilish demons bent on destruction, and other doers of evil who make the world a terrifying place. What is a mother to do when her daughter is gifted but lives under the thumb of her fanatical preacher husband who will brook no talk of the supernatural? What of a demon so desperate to free himself of a trap that he will force another to repeat his atrocities and condemn a young boy to his demonic fate? Or maybe the story of a crotchety old witch with a score to settle against the town she lives in is more to your liking – what evil will the seemingly harmless town-crazy call upon when faced with an ultimatum? If you’re looking for wicked people with supernatural abilities doing wicked things, this is the collection for you!

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Amy Zoellers @breakfastpoet @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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The Price of Words
by Amy Zoellers 

The psycho’s poetry was florid,

too careful, labored-over in ten-dollar words

(inflation)

inflated. Dancing on tiptoe.

Cumbersome to the likes of me.

.

“I would least be an academic!” I crowed,

good sense and cooing tactics

all poured out the window

of the stained and sour motel room

where he now loomed with an axe.

.

Where I’d brought a new bottle of apricot brandy

to take stock of my life

.

a life of gelatin salads and fifty-cent words

of cherry cola and AquaNet.

A life with too little to prove.

“I need poetry that sings fire!” I spat.

.

And he chopped me for it,

for my sass

and for other unsound reasons

of his own—

.

relegating my

mundanity-glorifying

big fat mouth

to the ghost world

.

where now I wisp and whisper

my dimestore charms and

gumball-machine litanies

to other seekers,

bones and flesh,

poets all.

.

Fiction © Copyright Amy Zoellers
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
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More from Amy Zoellers:

OrdealInFrenchLipstick

Ordeal in French Lipstick

Art! Fun!! Poetry and song! Portraits, dolls, prints, jewelry… and so much more! Find Amy on Instagram:  Hipness and Outrage 

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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!

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The Monstrocity 
by Kathleen McCluskey 

The old ship swayed and creaked as Captain Avery led the crew through the narrow passageways. The air was thick with the scent of salt and history. At the end of a dimly lit hallway, a battle scarred door stood sentinel. Its surface rusted and tarnished from the countless storms it had weathered. A lion’s head knocker adorned the door, its once majestic features now worn by the relentless passage of time. Captain Avery, his curiosity piqued by the mysterious allure of what was behind the door, approached the aged entrance with caution. He grasped the ring on the lion’s head, the cold metal sending shivers through his weathered fingers and knocked.

The door groaned open, revealing a room that was lost to time. Ancient artifacts adorned the walls and the air was heavy with the weight of forgotten tales. But what caught the captain’s eye was not the relics of the past but the monstrous creature confined within. Hidden in the shadows, the creature stirred, its eye gleaming of an otherworldly intelligence. Unbeknownst to the crew, the ship held a secret prisoner, a being from the depths of the unknown. The creature’s presence went unnoticed, a silent guardian confined within the bowels of the ship.

The creature’s skin, a sickly shade of green, seemed to bioluminesce in the dim light. The texture of its skin resembled ancient, weathered scales, hinting at a lineage that reached back into forgotten realms. The being’s mouth was a cavern of terror, revealing rows of sharp, jagged teeth. The teeth protruding menacingly, a testament to its predatory nature. Its breath, a noxious blend of decay and ancient evil, permeated the air around it. The stench lingered like a ghostly warning. Enormous talons adorned the creature’s limbs. The claws were as long as a man’s forearm, sharp and curved, ready to rend anything that stood in its way. Its limbs were sinewy and strong that hinted at a strength capable of hunting and capturing prey of considerable size.

In a moment of decision, Captain Avery, his face pale yet determined, took a step back. With a trembling hand he swiftly closed the rusted door, the lion’s head knocker clanged loudly through the deserted hallway. An ominous click echoed softly through the corridor, sealing the beast inside of its hidden lair. Captain Avery leaned against the door and caught his breath. The fear lingered but so did the burning curiosity. The old ship sailed on, carrying its secret burden. The crew were blissfully unaware of the supernatural presence concealed within.

As the captain continued his journey through the creaking corridor, the locked door served as a barrier between the world of the known and the world of the unknown. The lion’s head knocker stood silent, its secrets locked away. The crew were left to navigate the mysteries of the open sea, oblivious to the monstrous entity that lurked behind the tarnished facade.

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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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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Sue Renol @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Visitation
by Sue Renol

I returned to this place each day, without understanding why. What drew me there? Was it some force beyond my scope of vision? I couldn’t conjure a single idea about what it was that compelled me to visit, but that compulsion was irresistible.

My daily walk home from work took me near the old asylum. It was only a short detour, so it wasn’t far out of the way. But I found myself going even on my days off. It didn’t matter what the weather was like, rain, snow, ice, scorching heat, I always went. I always stared into the darkness of that empty room expecting to find something there.

But every day, I went home disappointed, no closer to an answer for this obsession.

Until the day another person was there. He was a few windows down, staring into one like I did mine. He looked over at me and offered a smile bent with sadness. “So, you visit too, huh?”

“Every day,” I answered, unsure what he meant.

“We all come eventually,” he replied. “Been a while for me.”

“Why do we come here?” I asked, as if some common understanding existed between us, buried somewhere deep in my subconscious.

“To visit,” he said. “They get lonely if no one visits.”

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Wicked Deeds: Witches, Warlocks, Demons and Other Evil Doer’s

Sometimes wicked people do wicked things simply because they can… The twelve stories in Wicked Deeds tell tales of witches and warlocks with ill intent, devilish demons bent on destruction, and other doers of evil who make the world a terrifying place. What is a mother to do when her daughter is gifted but lives under the thumb of her fanatical preacher husband who will brook no talk of the supernatural? What of a demon so desperate to free himself of a trap that he will force another to repeat his atrocities and condemn a young boy to his demonic fate? Or maybe the story of a crotchety old witch with a score to settle against the town she lives in is more to your liking – what evil will the seemingly harmless town-crazy call upon when faced with an ultimatum? If you’re looking for wicked people with supernatural abilities doing wicked things, this is the collection for you!

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Linda Lee Rice @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Witch Balls 
by Linda Lee Rice 

I woke up feeling dizzy and disoriented, the last thing I remember was drinking tea. The old lady looked harmless as she smiled when I entered the Tea Shoppe. The inside of the shop was an array of scents and colors. Beautiful teacups and teapots lined the shelves with a variety of teas underneath.

Intriguing glass balls hung from the windows that looked as if they were spun with spider silk. “Oh! What gorgeous ornaments in your windows.” I touched one delicately admiring the intricate webbing design.

“I’m happy you’re enjoying them. They were designed for me by a friend of mine who dabbles in that sort of thing. I’ve collected them for years. When one is completed, then my friend sends me another one.” The old woman smiled as if reminiscing something. “Some of them are very old and fragile. The one you’re admiring just arrived today since the other ones are completed.”

I smiled back at her a little baffled but figured with her age she was just confused. The lovely balls look finished to me. “Do these balls have a name?” I asked.

“Why yes, they are called Witch’s Balls. When you hang them in your window, it’s supposed to keep witches and spirits away. Their souls become trapped within the balls. The only way the spirits can be released is if the ball is broken or cracked. That’s why I had the new one delivered because the one that was in its place was carelessly smashed by a customer. He didn’t even say he was sorry, just laughed as I picked up the pieces. But you know, rudeness does have its price.” She reached up and gently tapped another ball and grinned to herself.” But come along and I’ll serve you my specialty tea.”

She seated me at a lovely corner table which gave me a view of the balls spinning in the window. Every once in a while, it looked as if something flashed inside but then when I looked again, it was gone. The old lady brought the tea and the teapot, and the aroma slowly wafted around my head. It smelled spicy and sweet at the same time, and the biscuit that came with it looked delicious.

I sipped my tea, still intrigued by the witch balls dangling in the sunlight each to their rhythm. Finishing my cup and before pouring another one, I had to see what those flashes of light were. I walked over to the window and peered closely. Inside was a tiny man banging on the side, becoming tangled up in the webs. He looked at me and was trying to tell me something.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and just before I passed out, I heard the old lady’s voice with a sorrowful note in it. “I’m sorry you had to see that; I was hoping he would’ve settled down by not and not attracted your attention. But since he has, now I have to do something about it,” she let out a big sigh as I slumped to the ground.

I can barely see through the tangled web of the ball and even though I’m pounding on the glass, it makes no difference. I can see an eye staring back at me sorrowfully as the old woman hangs my ball in the window.

.
Fiction © Copyright Linda Lee Rice
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More about Linda Lee Rice:

me in burgandy hat2

Linda Lee Rice aka Ruzicka has poetry published in Twilight Times, Dark Krypt, Fables, Descending Darkness, Writing Village, Spine, and Page, Muses Gallery, Bloodbond, Lycan Valley Press Publishers, Alban Lake, Highland Park Poetry, Rosette Maleficarum, The Siren’s Call, Edify Fiction and the June Cotner anthology, “House Blessings” and “Garden Blessings

She has short stories published in The Grit, and Reminisce, Haunted Encounters: Friends and Family, FrostFire Worlds. Plus, a personal essay at Mamalode. She also has various articles and blogs published online as a freelance writer.

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Motel Blues 
by Ela Lourenco 

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I drum my fingers on the dusty counter as the TV shows yet another rerun of some old movie. The aircon fizzles and pops as it struggles to spurt out thin streams of. A bead of sweat trickles as though in slow motion from my neck and down my chest.

Nothing stirs in the night. It’s as though time itself has stopped, paralysed by the hot damp air.

All the rooms are vacant. No one has driven this way for a year. My palms itch, restless. My days have melded into one, my senses numbed by boredom.

My heart skips as the lights of a car appear outside. I slow my breathing, barely daring to hope… The bell on the door jingles as a young woman walks in. The wariness on her face is replaced by relief as she sees me, a young woman much like her.

She seems to be running from something and is now safe. I smile widely as I show her to the only guestroom I bother to clean. My skin is pulsating, I can barely contain myself as I let her close the door. It’s OK, I have waited a whole year, I can wait another few hours until she falls asleep… until I get to finally play again.

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Fiction © Copyright Ela Lourenco
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
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More from Ela Lourenco:

awakeningDragon Born: Book Three
Awakening

The Royal tournament, the Karnac, is fully underway. But there is deception and betrayal at every turn. Unseen dark forces are at play, both within the school grounds and out with. Even the Gods are unable to help when a new threat looms over them all.The very existence of Azmantium depends on Lara fully becoming the Child of Fire and casting aside the Shadows lurking in every corner of her beloved planet.Can she overcome the challenges that await? Will the Shadows cover the world in darkness? Only Lara and her friends can change the fate of Azmantium.

Available on Amazon!

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Let Me In
by Kim Richards 

Shivering in her thin shift, Sareth stood before a steel reinforced door of the old keep, staring at its bronze knocker. Shaped like a lion, it held the ring for knocking in its jaws, behind sharp fangs. She imagined it coming to life and talking with it.

“Oh, king of all cats. Allow me to enter,” she would say with a pleasant smile.

It would nod and reply, “Of course milady. Come warm yourself by the fire and have some mulled wine.”

She giggled. That’s for fantasy stories!

She reached out her arm and gingerly touched each of the eight bolts attaching the plaque with the knocker onto the door. Hard and smooth, the frosty cold burned her fingertips so she quickly pulled back. Frowning, she rubbed her fingers against the torn fabric covering her torso.

Rain drizzled, running icy fingers through Sareth’s hair and dripping down her shoulders. She knew she needed the shelter of this place, despite her mother’s warnings. She pulled up the hem of her gown enough to wrap the fingers of her right hand. It mattered little that it bared her legs–white against the night. No one would see her.

She grasped the ring portion of the lion knocker and rapped it firmly. Metal against metal rang out thrice. She let go of her gown and stood back. She hoped the door would open soon. Her bare feet already succumbed to numbness and now it spread up her legs.

The rain hardened, pelting her as if it were pebbles tossed down by an immature god. Sareth wrapped her arms around herself. She leaned against the doorway and prayed.

Then she heard footfalls from beyond the door. Straightening her posture, she called out. “Please. Help me. Please take me out of the cold.”

A deep roar of laughter reached her ears. With a click of the lock releasing, the door slowly swung inward.

Before Sareth towered a beast…no a man…no… She stared up into a rugged face, surrounded by a thick golden mane. He bared daggered fangs and grabbed the waif by her shift. He dragged her inside and slammed the door shut, muffling her screams.

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Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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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!

A Look Within
by Elizabeth H. Smith

The small darkness, miniscule in its enclosed infinity, watches me. I gaze on it indifferently, with a slight angle in my neck, as if mocking it. Its only desire is to fill space, to black out what is alight with color and vibrant life. It wants to smother, to choke, to suffocate all that is impure in its designation. I know this, because I came from this darkness. I only look upon it now from the outside due to my banishment. I wanted to see the light, my dangerous fantasies reached too far, until my slender form slipped from the shadows from which it was born and invaded the outside. I’m now trapped, imprisoned in light. The cozy shroud that was my home is now a foreign land, inaccessible in my plight. All I can do is wait. Wait for the darkness to eventually consume all, as it inevitably will. Then maybe I’ll be allowed to return home…

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Baubles 
by Alex Grehy

Don’t call them baubles

It upsets them, a name so 

trivial, though they are pretty

enough to be mistaken for trinkets

Call them…eggs

They like that, a label full of

potential, their lights pulse

like throbbing golden yolks

Don’t call them globes

it makes them fret, hints of a wider

world trigger disturbing memories of

an existence less constrained

Call them…cocoons

They love that, a salve of

comfort with the hope of

growth and transformation

Don’t call them cages

Their brightness is fueled

by their yearning for freedom

though that can never be.

Call them…imagos

Sulky souls are dreary, let their 

wild visions of release brighten 

Hell up, it’s a holiday after all.

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Fiction © Copyright Alex Grehy
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Alex Grehy:

147443997_865719290883677_3441953034998826390_n

After a lifetime of writing technical non-fiction, Alex Grey is fulfilling her dream of writing poems and stories that engage the reader’s emotions. Her work has been featured by a wide range of publications including Siren’s Call, Raconteur, Bookends Review, and Toasted Cheese. One of her comic poems is also available via a worldwide network of public fiction dispensers managed by French publisher, Short Edition. Her ingredients for contentment are narrow boating, greyhounds, singing and chocolate. It is a sweet life, yet Alex’ original view of the world has led to her best friend to say ‘For someone so lovely, you’re very twisted!

Please click here to discover more!   

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Life Review 
by Elaine Pascale

The elevator in the motel had buttons for only two floors: ground level and five.

This seemed an impossibility as Cheryl’s room was on the second floor, which was the top level.

Cheryl walked back to the desk in the lobby and the disgruntled man behind it. “You said I am on the 2nd floor, right?”

The man raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

“The elevator.” She pointed as if there were more than one. “Only has floor five as an option.”

“You are on the 2nd,” he insisted, as if this solved the conundrum.

“And how do I get there?”

He pointed to the same elevator she had pointed to moments before.

Realizing she was getting nowhere, Cheryl decided she was reading the number incorrectly or that the person who installed the buttons needed help with their stenciling.

She got into the contraption, which smelled like raw meat, and pushed the button for five. She also deciphered what the man at the desk had asked her as he had taken her information: “window or windowless?” Her mind came up with many scenarios that would require a windowless room and none of them were good.

The elevator jolted to a start. Cheryl felt herself being lifted and after what seemed a long while, the doors opened again. The meat smell was replaced with a cacophony of scents, each bringing a bouquet of memories which made her feel overwhelmed and dizzy.

She stepped off the elevator and into a room with a large screen. Long windows surrounded the room and each window contained numerous sets of eyes. In some instances, there were solitary eyes, blending in with the pairs, blinking and peering into the room.

A voice said, “life review,” and the screen showed clips from a film of her life. The clips mostly focused on the times when she had been selfish. She relived seducing her second husband away from his family. She saw herself wrongly accusing a co-worker of stealing and using his firing as an opportunity for advancement. There were times she had been greedy, times she had been hurtful. She watched as she lied and cheated and intentionally caused misery. The eyes watched, too. Their presence heightened her distress and she wished she had requested a windowless room.

She was relieved when the screen went blank and the eyes disappeared.

“I get it,” she pleaded, “I understand. Can I…can I go now?”

“This is a stopover,” the voice explained, “just like a motel. You don’t settle into a motel and you won’t be staying here.”

This is what she was afraid of. Cheryl got back onto the elevator. It was hot and smelled of sulfur. This time, there was a third button, going much lower than the ground floor.

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Fiction © Copyright Elaine Pascale
Image courtesy of Pixaby.com

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More from Elaine Pascale:

The Blood Lights

They victimize all…

Jezzie Mitchell is in anguish; with her brother’s murder still on her mind, she’s noticed strange behavior among the girls in the residential treatment center where she works. Is there a connection between the contagion on Cape Cod and the deadly Bahamas vacation that changed her life?

Jezzie reaches out to former lover Lou Collins, a scholar who has chased proof of the lights for decades. Will he be able to solve the mystery of the lights in time?

Intensely competitive, reporter Bridgette Collins knows the lights are a way to secure fame in her career. And while it’ll put the final nail into the coffin of her ex-husband’s career, she vows to know the secrets of the lights. Even if it means unleashing a world-wide epidemic…

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