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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Ethan Frost 
by Kathleen McCluskey 

The biting cold and bitter winds of Siberia howled through the barren landscape. In a small weathered cabin a solitary figure sat huddled by a fire. His name is Ethan Frost and this icy tundra is where he calls home. Outside snowflakes danced in the moonlight, the land itself was silent, a formidable adversary. It tested the limits of one’s resolve. He knew that his sanity had slipped a long time ago. Ethan stared into the fire, its flames reflected in his eyes. The lines on his face made eerie shadows as the mournful wind sang its song. The guilt was written all over his face and he sighed loudly. He knew what he had done, he knew what was coming.

As the Siberian winter gripped tighter, so did Ethan’s torment. The weight of his past sins bore down on him like a giant glacier. He knew that his transformation into a Wendigo was drawing near. The nights grow colder, harder, longer as the insurmountable guilt consumes him. The memories of what he had done to his family haunted him.

The first sign of his transformation was his insatiable hunger. He ate fish after fish, never cooking them; relishing in the internal organs. The hunger whispered wicked desires into every recess of his mind. He could feel the curse beginning to take hold.

His body began to change. His once healthy, robust frame was wasted away. His wind burnt skin began to take on a sickly pallor; the color of old snow. His stomach and cheekbones were sunken in creating a macabre silhouette. He became a hollow shell of his former self.

The nights were the worst, the wind would howl and sing to him. It carried a beckoning, chilling presence of the Wendigo spirit calling to him. It urged him to embrace the darkness that he once feared. He knew that his transformation was inevitable, he had convicted himself of it the moment he ate his youngest daughter. He cursed himself into becoming a horrible creature. A fitting curse for a cannibal. He had murdered his entire family with an ax, leaving their corpses in the snow to preserve them.

Ethan knew his inevitable transformation was near, he could feel the icy fingers of the Wendigo gripping his heart and soul. Horns began to grow from his head and his eyes turned from brown to red. He knew that he had become the monster that he feared most. There was no escape from the eternal, frigid hell that he made for himself. He tossed his head back and howled.

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 R.A. Clarke @RAClarkeWrites @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Fair Maiden of Sin 
by R.A. Clarke 

In the stillness she waits

Eyes attuned to the dark

Watching for suitors

Fair maiden of sin

.

They hear mournful singing

See her fearful, alone

Men drop all their toil

Come wandering in

.

One braves the dark meadow

Swims across a cursed pond

Should he make it ashore

Oh, how he’ll be prized

.

Her sad song lures him in

Striking beauty astounds

He can’t look away

Enthralled, hypnotized

.

He quickly disrobes, then

pulls her silk gown away

She knows what he wants

She’s willing and meek

.

He gropes her soft skin

Feels her unholy touch

Revels in pleasure

As frenzied, he peaks

.

While they shiver and moan

She soaks every ounce in

Ecstasy is her drug

Their climax her fuel

.

In the apex she smiles

He’s done, but she’s not

In the quiet she feels

Sweet renewal

.

Her appetite whetted

She awakens the beast

Her song soon devolves

Guise splitting apart

.

Blue eyes darken to black

Skin crusts into scales

From fingers stretch claws

Teeth gnarly and sharp

.

The man flinches and pales

As she pins his arms down

Yes, now it is time for

The real fun to start

.

With merciless slashes

She rips into his flesh 

Ribs crack to reveal

His still beating heart

.

He shudders, breath shallow

Hoggish lover, now prey

Her morsel awaits

She punctures a hole

.

Then suckles and drinks

With unladylike slurps

His flayed torso steaming

A luscious food bowl

.

Once the well has run dry

And his pleading has ceased

His husk has grown still

His eyes but a glaze

.

She cleans up the mess

Her guise back in place

She slips on her gown

Steps into the haze

.

They’ll hear her sad singing

See her fearful, alone

They’ll drop all their toil

Come wandering in

.

In the stillness she waits

Eyes attuned to the dark

Watching for suitors

Fair maiden of sin

.

Fiction © Copyright R.A. Clarke
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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More from author R.A. Clarke:

OhThatsGoodToo

Oh, That’s Good, Too!

From the author of Oh, That’s Good… you are cordially invited to peruse 52 more original speculative fiction prompts that are sure to inspire and spark the imagination. From dark to light, spaceships to fairytale creatures, and everything in between, there’s a little something for everyone between the covers. Whether you’re writing short or long fiction, in the home, class, or office, these prompts work for all manner of creative writing. Just spin, expand, elevate, and transform the concepts into your own, then jot down your shiny new plotlines in the handy note sections provided. So, are you ready to find inspiration and write that next great story?

Available on Amazon!

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Dreams Imitating Life 
by Kendra Smart 
 

“Find Me.”

“See Me.”

“Be Mine.”

“Find Me.” Archeologist Jaleah Marland had been dreaming again. The images and voice lulled her, comfortable and warm. A voice calling her, with the most sincere pleading.

Her Mother had told her they were nothing more. Just dreams.

But Jaleah grew in age and knowledge, her thirst to find the carved rock doors amidst a starry sky led her down a path to history. It was in history her passion thrived. After years of study and hands on expeditions, she became a point of contact in her field. Her schedule stayed busy and she honestly didn’t mind.

She wasn’t in her field for the acclaim, or the money.

She did it for the stories.

The ones that deserved to be told, which in her eyes, was all of them.

Her colleague, Professor Kenneth Rowland, had told her of the dig he had just financed. A temple, remote in the jungles of an island in the Carribeans, thought to be that of an ancient tribe known as the Malphise. Text had claimed the temple was that of their King and Wiseman, who had resided inside and it had been written that he had sacrificed himself to appease the gods and save his people.

Kenneth had verified evidence that this temple was the genuine article, not a false tomb to thwart robbers.

Her fingers rubbed the cool, smooth surface oft he small stone Ken had sent. At first glance the surface looked like any other rock, but moisture unlocked the secret. Engravings etched upon the rocks surface with so keen an eye that the details, no matter how small were marvels to behold.

Her eyes couldn’t see the fine details until wet and glistening, light refracting off the surface. But once seen, the image sent Jaleah back into her dreamsand reinforced their call. She came to the conclusion that there was no choice.

She was going.

Ken was not one for preamble. Her flight arrived and in less than ten minutes they were on their way to the site.

The pathway through to the site had been marked with torches. They had obviously already started escavating. She found herself slightly miffed but held her tongue. It wasn’t her place to speak.

Not her circus.

Not her monkeys.

But, she knew the clowns.

As they made their way down the path to the temple she made out a few camps along the way. A few familiar faces here and there. Men and women from different adventures with less meaning than this one.

As she manuvered around a bend, her breath failed her. Her eyes beheld a dream become reality. She had to suck in her air with a reminder, painful and sharp, that oxygen was a necessity.

But the dream didn’t dissipate.

It remained.

It was surreal how quickly the two worlds merged.

The pillars Kenneth had described were a doorway. The jade inlay in the stone warmed under her touch.

A greeting. A welcoming.

She kept pace with Ken as best she could but Jaleah was having problems with her focus. To be fair, the large chamber was a sight to behold. Age didn’t seem to exist here, Jaleah could fully understand Ken’s enthusiaism and wanting her to see this immediately.

The torches drew her eyes to the smooth, black pillars thatwere topped with thick bands of jade. The sixteen pillars encircled a masterpiece on the floor though. The stones glistened in the torchlight and she realized that there were stratigectly placed jade pieces that when lit resembled the night sky.

Such immense work, time, and dedication for only cold, unfeeling, granite to look upon for the rest of eternity.

A musing that had held her gaze until her eyes roamed over the statues. Such ornate and detailed artistry. The main one overlooking the room had far more details than the rest. It was clearly special, more clearly outlined features and personality. It held her in a tight trance.

“Find Me.”

His eyes. His eyes were different. Not just being of the same material carved from, no they were crafted with the same precision that the jade in the flooring was. Her feet got away from her and Jaleah found herself in front of the statue. This close it was as if she could breathe upon his face and he would wake.

“See Me.”

She should have been paying attention. Ken had been mumbling in some other language this whole time. But her world was set to confusion as she felt two things simultaniously. The sharp, sudden pain that caught her back and then lungs ablaze and the coolness of stone warmed into flesh.

The eyes in front of her closed. When they opened, she saw a galazy come to life.

But her world was warm and the pain fleeting, seeping away as though she were letting go. Her world was darkening as Ken rejoiced in his sacrifice working.

She felt gentle fingers upon her laying her down and a warm tone in her ear.

“Hello, my darling.”

“Be Mine.”

Her world went black to a symphony of tortured screams.

.

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Last Thouhts
by Angela Yuriko Smith

This view from where I lay and decay:
a vista of moss, a horizon in miniature
whispers of green as my vision dims…
and so go all my hopes and dreams.

A vista of moss, a horizon in miniature.
My fabric in time is unraveling…
and so goes all my hopes and dreams,
A bad choice, a wrong turn, a bad date.

My fabric in time is unraveling.
We didn’t know each other well.
A bad choice, a wrong turn, a bad date.
From the grave I hope to know you better.

We didn’t know each other well
this view from where I lay and decay.
From the grave I hope to know you better…
and so goes all my hopes and dreams.

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More from Angela Yuriko Smith:

Angela Yuriko Smith is an American poet, author and co-publisher of Space and Time magazine, a publication that has been printing speculative fiction, art and poetry since 1966. Together we build a poem as a community each month. Visit “Exquisite Corpse” at SpaceandTime.net to submit.

Catch up with Angela here!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Nadia Corin @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Quiet on the Set
by Nadia Corin

His disproportionate head with beady eyes sat atop wide shoulders. Thick of breast with small stick legs to carry his mass, he stared at me as though I were the tragic character in one of his screenplays. Hooked nose looking down upon me dispassionately, his gaze seemed to accuse that my death was stretched beyond its allowed screen time.

A single caw, yet the implication clear: Why won’t you die already

I’m working on it, Alfred, just gimme a moment. Not everyone can perform on cue!

.

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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I’ll Fly Away… 
by Rie Sheridan Rose 

They say the end is near…

that the world as we know it

lies doomed to a destruction

we could have prevented

if we had paid attention

if we had listened

if we had cared.

.

The signs are all around us…

people dying in the streets

because they have nowhere to go

who we could have helped

if we had been less selfish

if we had wanted to

if we had cared.

.

Fire engulfs the world…

burning the forests

killing the wildlife

preventable destruction

if we had noticed

if we had planned

if we had cared.

.

When the end times come,

I will embrace the fire

as it destroys my world

and—never looking back—

I’ll fly away,

smoke in the wind…

and wish I’d cared.

.

Fiction © Copyright Rie Sheridan Rose
Image courtesy of
Pixabay.com

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Overheard in Hell:
Dark Poetry

Poems exploring hell and damnation. Tales of sorrow, vengeance, betrayal, and redemption. Ghosts, ghouls, and demons stalk these pages. Don’t read in a lonely house…in a darkened room by a single candle…

…unless you like the touch of an icy finger up your spine.

Available on Amazon!

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Fallen
by Nina D’Arcangela

Her wail spit the air.

“How… How could you let this happen?” she crooned as the young boy lay motionless in her arms, blood trickling from his cracked skull. “Why choose him when there are so many others?” Inconsolable, the mother stood and limped back to their home where she placed his still body on a rock bench.

The afternoon and evening spent grieving, she finally drifted off to sleep. In her dreams came the answer, but not one she expected.

“Do not shed a tear for the young one, he was meant for things unkind in this world and could not have stopped himself, Giver of Life.”

“Things, what things? Couldn’t stop himself from what?” the mother asked of the Taker of Life.

“Things I cannot explain. Things that would break you, tear him from you, make you wish you’d never given birth.”

Jerking fitfully, even her dream mind could not fathom a world in which her young son was taken before manhood, before he was old enough to claim a wife who would bear him children of his own. She spat at the Taker of Life, “Nothing could make me wish such a thing! You took him because of greed and corrupt desire – do not claim nobility as your cause. You’re evil! I should tear your effigy from the temple, you do not deserve our reverence.”

As her heart seized, the winged God sighed. “Woman, I speak the truth. He was not destined to be mundane; he would have brought about an end to all. Do you not see what resides in his soul?”

But a mother’s grief can never be sated with prophetic words, nor could she see beyond the love that tinted her sight. The Taker knew of this but did not wish the breeder to suffer. “Kind woman, hear me clear – your boy would have brought ruin to the village, he would have led riots that would have crumbled our civilization, MY civilization.” The Taker is not without compassion. “I can seed you another, kinder child.”

“No! Insuetti was my child, I do not wish to carry one of your kind. I want my boy back – damn your village,” wracking sobs fed the small gasp heard in the waking world.

“Giver of Life, open your eye, see your boy. Do you not see that his blood runs black as the night? Do you not understand that he was the antithesis of all you are? Must I show you the atrocities he would have wrought?” The mother refused to wake and accept her child for what the Taker claimed him to be. Where there was darkness, she could see only light. Where there was malice, she could remember only his joyous grin. Where there was deceit, she could perceive only childish antics.

Left with no way to console the Giver, the Taker showed her a glimpse of what would have come to pass if the child hadn’t fallen to his death. He showed her images of greed and cruelty, of her sweet boy grown to manhood, of the acts of violence he would commit against their people. The plague he would bring upon the land. He showed her the fields barren of crops; their village in ashes; men, women and children slaughtered by the droves. All because her child was brought into this world.

Once again, the Taker prompted for her to wake, to see Insuetti with clear eyes, and she did. She woke, looked upon her son with the reflection of the dream vision playing against the back of her eyes. She could not deny that she had glimpsed the things the Taker of Life spoke of, but she could not accept them into her heart either.

Climbing upon the stone bench the child’s body rested on, she straddled the young one, drew a sharp rock across the soft flesh of each inner thigh, and bathed her boy in the blood that gave him life with fervent hope that it would bring him breath again even as it stole the air from her own lungs.

.

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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 A.F. Stewart @scribe77 @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Green
by A.F. Stewart

Have you ever looked at moss? Truly looked at it. Studied its pores, its texture, the way it clings, smothering the surface of a rock or earth. It’s insidious, creeping, growing, so…alive. People think I’m crazy, but it’s everywhere and I swear, there’s more of it every day.

I used to spray weed killer, and that kept it at bay, but the neighbours complained. Organic methods are better, they said, so I switched. Some all-natural mixture I made myself. That’s when I noticed how it spread. It would recede for a while, before expanding out, and it took progressively more spray to kill it off. I saw the green crawling along the rocks around the pond, then worming its way between the paving stones of the walkways. In secret, I switched back to herbicides, until that didn’t work anymore. It just kept growing…

Now it’s slithering into the flower beds.
It’s killing the grass, taking over the lawn.
I can feel its pulse beneath the earth, like a heartbeat.
I’m afraid.
Now it’s squirming up the side of the house towards the windows.
What happens when it gets into the house?

.

 
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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 Kim Richards @Kim_Richards @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Image_01One Hot Day
by Kim Richards

Maddie skipped out of the thrift store. She let go of the front door, leaving it to close on its own. A mourning dove perched in the evergreen tree just across the small parking lot. Maddie smiled at its “Ou…ou…hou” cooing. It ruffled its feathers.

Droplets of sweat conjured by the blasting heat of the afternoon sun dripped down Maddie’s neck. She was glad she left the moonroof open on her little Ford. 90-degree weather and black vehicles make for a miserable drive home. When she first bought her Fusion, she laughed at the cooling seats option. Who wants their crotch cold? Days like this one made her appreciate it.

A double click on the key fob unlocked the doors with a click. She quickly pulled it open wide and stood aside to let the heat waft out. She ducked her head in and reached over to the dash console to turn on the cooling seats function. Something small and black fluttered towards her face. Maddie hit her head on the door frame as she jumped back.

“What the…” she exclaimed.

Saying the words opened her mouth just wide enough for the thing to dart inside and fly down her throat.

 Oh, my God!  I swallowed it! Maddie doubled over, gagging. She felt its soft body against the wall of her esophagus and gagged again. Nothing came out.

She swooned as whirling dizziness grabbed her by the temples.

 What the hell is it? It couldn’t be a bee because she didn’t feel stinging inside her throat…just the soft fluttering of wings and scrabbling legs.

Well, if she couldn’t get it out, maybe swallowing would move it down and her digestive system would kill it. Hopefully it was edible. She gathered what spit she could muster and envisioned swallowing a pill. After three unsuccessful attempts at constricting her throat muscles, she stopped.  The bug must be stuck to the side of her esophagus. Maddie gagged again and this time her stomach muscles clenched.

Supporting herself by holding onto the top of the door, she ignored the pain of hot metal on her palm and looked inside her car. Maybe there was a leftover water bottle or soda can in the cup holder. Nothing.

She stood back up and looked at the thrift store door. Surely they had something to drink in there. However, as she turned and took a step, the dizziness whirled her to the ground. Her head slammed against the blistering asphalt with a hard crack and warm liquid flowing beneath. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

When Maddie finally opened them, she realized the dove stood on her chest. It cocked its head to one side, then to the other. It stared into her pupils with its beady black eyes.

“I’m here to eat you,” it said.

Maddie could barely move. She struggled to turn onto her side.

“Can you just remove it?” she asked the dove. “The thing I swallowed?” Her vision blurred again so she squeezed her eyes tight.

Maddie opened her eyes at the sound of rustling and of rubber soled shoes on the pavement next to her. The dove had grown and now stood beside her, leaning in close.

“Hon, I’m here to help you,” it said in a female voice.

Maddie blinked and the dove evolved into a young woman with a sharp nose and a round face framed by grey hair. Her brown eyes looked deep into Maddie’s face. A second woman moved into view beside her. Concern wrinkled the corners of her mouth and forehead.

Maddie struggled to speak but the fluttering in her throat began again. She couldn’t speak. She cried silently as she realized she was unable to take a breath and then her world went dark.

The female voice sighed and then said to her companion, “Hand me the Narcan.”

.

Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Carietta Dorsch @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Some Doors Are Best Closed
by Carietta Dorsch 

I had a dream of a door last night. Its image lingered in my mind, refusing to be forgotten. It haunted me, beckoning me to uncover its secrets. What did it mean? Why was this door so significant? Little did I know that behind it lay a darkness I could never have fathomed.

The dream began innocently enough. I found myself standing in a desolate realm, the door frame adorned with faded stone eroding at the edges. The air was thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the faint sound of my own breathing. As I cautiously walked forward, my eyes were drawn to the single door standing within the stone.

The door was unlike any I had ever seen before. It was ancient, with intricate carvings etched into its weathered surface. Its wood was worn and cracked, as if it had witnessed the passage of time itself. It exuded an aura of mystery and foreboding, yet I felt an inexplicable pull towards it.

Unable to resist, I reached out and turned the cold metal doorknob. As the door creaked open, a gust of frigid wind rushed past me, causing a shiver to run down my spine. I hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to step through or retreat. But curiosity got the better of me, and I crossed the threshold into an abyss of darkness.

The room that lay beyond was suffocatingly dim, illuminated only by the faint glow of a solitary candle. Shadows danced along the walls, their sinuous movements creating an unsettling atmosphere. And there, in the center of the room, stood a figure that sent a chill down my spine.

My eyes looked back at me. His eyes, cold and devoid of any humanity, bore into mine. His presence exuded an evil so palpable that it seemed to seep into the very air I breathed. I tried to scream, but no sound escaped my lips. I was trapped, a mere spectator in this twisted nightmare.

His lips curled into a sinister smile as he slowly approached me. His footsteps echoed ominously in the silent room. Panic surged through my veins, urging me to flee, but my body remained frozen in place. His voice, a low and haunting whisper, filled the room, revealing the depths of his malevolence.

“You’ve unlocked the door to your darkest fears,” he hissed as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “I am the embodiment of your nightmares, your deepest insecurities. Just like me, your loneliness will become the very monster you fear.”

I trembled, unable to tear my gaze away from his piercing eyes. The realization dawned upon me that this dream was more than just a mere figment of my imagination. It was a reflection of the darkness that resided within me, the fears and doubts that I had buried deep within my subconscious.

Suddenly, the room began to morph, twisting and contorting in a grotesque display. The walls bled, the floor cracked beneath my feet, and the candle flickered, casting eerie shadows across his face. It was as if the room itself was alive, feeding off the malevolence that emanated from him.

In a desperate attempt to escape, I mustered all my strength and turned to run. But as I reached the door, it slammed shut with a resounding thud, sealing me inside this nightmare. I pounded on the door, my cries for help echoing through the empty darkness, but no one came to my aid.

And then, I woke up, drenched in a cold sweat. The dream had ended, but its impact lingered. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this dream held a deeper meaning, a reflection of the darkness that resides within us all. The door had opened a window into my own fears, exposing the vulnerability that lay dormant within.

I got up from my bed, and that’s when I realized my hands were wet. I looked down, and saw them covered in blood. I instantly looked at the bed, and saw the lifeless corpse of an innocent man wrapped in my sheets, and the bloody power saw laying on his torso.

The dream wasn’t a dream, but an hallucination during the act of my first kill. The door was where I could’ve stopped myself. Sometimes, some doors are best closed, but now that’s it’s open.

I pick up a chunk of meat I had sawed off, and walk toward the kitchen.

..

Fiction © Copyright Carietta Dorsch
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
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Carietta Dorsch currently lives in North Carolina. She can see the horror in anything and loves every sinister detail. She loves all things horror and true crime. She’s been a fan of horror ever since watching Scream at the age of eight, and her all time favorite horror film is Sleepaway Camp.

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