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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


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On Set 
by Christina Sng 

After the lights are off
And the crew is gone,

She emerges
From the rafters

Where she lives,
Where she hides

Safe from the monster
Who killed her with knives

After she filmed
Her final scene

As the sun shone overhead
Through the cloudless sky.

He never appears at night,
Only the day,

Wearing his mask,
Hiding his true face.

Until she sees her son
With him on set,

Scared as a bird,
Forced to play a part

Or his dog will be shot,
The monster jokes,

Arm around her boy
As he visibly cringes,

Head swiveling
From left to right,

Searching for anyone
Who can help.

She charges forth,
Fear dissipated.

Her only thought:
Save her child!

She no longer cares
She is found.

She plunges her hands
Into the monster’s heart

And crushes it,
Watching with relief

As blood gushes
From his wound

Onto the painted
Linoleum ground.

He clutches his chest,
Staring at the ghost

Struck,
Mouth agape

Until he crumbles to dust
As if he never existed.

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 Nina D’Arcangela @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

RGB No More
by Nina D’Arcangela

When the meteor hit, panic ensued. Coastal regions were swallowed by the seas, volcanoes erupted, the deserts cracked. The constant grainy mist that filled the air made breathing difficult for those unlucky enough to survive. Life wasn’t life anymore, it had become something else, something different. Once the pyroclastic dust settled and the oceans learned their new tides, civilization began anew. The world was no longer a blue marble with green pastures and white clouds; our new spectrum consisted of dingier, more sedate hues. The air took on an amber haze, the sky never as bright as it once was again. All water was now a sickly green, and crops, the few that remained, ripened to a less than appealing umber. People learned to live in trees with dense foliage. They built cities of wood that spanned the rain forests that overtook the planet with a fierce vengeance. Horses, cattle, pigs; most livestock faded from memory, seen now only in books. But humanity has a way.

Soon, we began to co-exist with and utilize what nature allowed. We befriended spiders that spun webs of safety below where we slept in exchange for small offerings – mostly females that couldn’t bear children, or men too weak to carry. We employed ants the size of creatures once known as bulls to till the meager fields and carry the food that still grew. Perhaps our greatest achievement, taming the flies that once annoyed. We saddled them, rode them to and fro. And for those fortunate enough to bond with a dragon, the ride that much sweeter as their carnivorous nature allowed for a small portion of protein when one of their legion fell. The dragons, you see, were kind and giving, as long as man did not try to take.

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More from Nina D’Arcangela:

Mental Ward: EXPERIMENTS

A dank basement, shadow filled hallways, the deep echo of a metal latch being thrown while faint screams are heard… These are the things you might experience in a place where the unspeakable happens, where conscientious action and moral turpitude turn a blind eye in the interest of advancing one’s own personal pursuits in the most deranged and unjustifiable manner. The type of place where power corrupts, and depravity runs rampant among those imbued with it. A place where the unfortunate are abandoned to the devices of those who convince themselves their actions are in the best interest of science.

Mental Ward: Experiments is a collection of ten short stories that demonstrate the worst of humanity’s ambition in the interest of ‘civilized’ advancement. Step into a world where sanity is left behind, and horror is what the doctor ordered!

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!

The Lock
by Sue Renol

Once the alarm was triggered, we knew we had less than three minutes before they arrived. The plan was simple: get in, grab what we could and get out before anyone knew we were even there. It was a culling night, everyone should have been home, locked away safely, hoping they weren’t chosen. Why someone was still in the building, we have no idea – our intel was reliable; a source we’d used before.

The klaxon began to scream. The door to the vaulted room we were in nearly slammed shut before one of the crew jammed a two-foot-thick chock into the opening. It wouldn’t last long, but it would keep the door from closing and locking us inside while we worked. As the air began venting from the chamber, we scrambled to grab as many vials as we could; the effort would be in vain without them.

The first, then second bag were swiftly, yet gingerly packed, and slid through the opening. Being the smallest, I had the best chance of making it out, so it was my job to go first. As I was about to slide through the gap, a sickly blue arm the length of my body slithered through. Pushing with my heels, I backpedaled on my rear trying to get as far from the limb as possible. Just then, a loud snap was heard and the chock gave way, severing the alien appendage. When I glanced back toward our small group, I could see their terror. The creatures had surrounded the plexiglas-like chamber we were trapped in, and were staring at us with those bulbous orbs that served as eyes. One by one, we began to collapse from lack of oxygen. Just before consciousness left me, the only sound I could hear in the strange room was the whir and click of the lock reengaging.

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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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What’s Hidden
by Amy Zoellers 

When sky gloats
a storm such as this
where cloud reveals
swarms of them
(the jellyfish of the sky)
that species of vampire
scourge, inescapable —
we caress our doom,
our fate of splintering,
poisoned
burning immortality.
Ravenous bells—
We waft, eternal,
heavenward
tentacled
along the sky paths
swimming in sunsets,
and with arms astonishing
gather our prey
from their beds.

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Photo Shoot
by Naching T. Kassa 

It’s about time you got here,” Rae Morton said as I walked in the door. She tapped the watch on her left wrist. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago, Miss Ming.”

That’s Sing. Not Ming. I’m sorry. The traffic was murder out there.”

Rae raised an eyebrow. “Traffic? At three in the morning?”

You’d be amazed how many people go to work at that time.”

Well, you have an hour left for the photo shoot. You better make the best of it.”

I carried the two bags of equipment into the room and set the shoot up as quickly as I could.

A white screen?” Rae said, wrinkling her nose. “My employer is very fair-skinned. Are you sure you want to use that?”

I’ve heard she often dresses in black. White is a good contrast.”

What about these lights? They’re far too bright. I told you, she has a sensitivity to bright light.”

I’ll dim the lights when she comes in. Believe it or not, Ms. Morton, I do know what I’m doing.”

I certainly hope so. My employer is not a patient person in any sense of the word. She does not suffer fools gladly.”

That makes two of us,” I replied.

I set my first camera on the tripod and began the necessary adjustments. Rae had retreated to a nearby aperture to wait. She watched a fat spider weave a web of gossamer in the corner of the doorway. The next time I looked up, she snatched the spider from the web and stuffed it in her mouth.

I’m ready,” I said.

Mmph?” Rae said around the mouthful of spider. She swallowed. “I’ll let my employer know.” She hurried through the doorway and into the gloom beyond.

A moment later, she returned. A woman, clad in a black and slinky dress, trailed behind her. Her eyes, green like those of a cat, bored into mine.

Sorry, I’m late,” I said, holding out a hand. The woman stared at it as though it were a carp instead of an appendage.

The Countess does not wish to be touched,” Rae said.

I do apologize,” I said. I dimmed the lights and led her to the white screen.

I have heard good things about you,” The Countess said, speaking for the first time. “Elizabeth said you vorked vonders. You made her look a hundred years younger.”

Ms. Bathory was a challenge. I’m glad she appreciates my work. It’s not easy to capture the vampire form. That’s why I use this white screen. It can make anything invisible to the camera’s eye visible. If you could just stand there. Thank you. Would you like to show off your fangs in this shot?”

I never show off my fangs.”

What about a smile?”

The Countess never smiles,” Rae interjected. “It wrinkles her face.”

I guess a frown is out then. No resting bitch face?”

No. No face of the bitch. I prefer this rigid, emotionless expression.”

I gather you’ve never smiled in the past then?”

Oh, I have smiled on occasion. Do you remember the last time I smiled, Morton?”

Rae grinned. “How can I forget? It was a hundred and twenty years ago last Friday. Seems like yesterday you killed that old meddler.”

A hungry leer spread across the Countess’ face. I quickly snapped a picture.

He vas qvite a pain in the neck, vasn’t he, Morton? Always sticking his big nose vhere it didn’t belong. He tried to kill me three times, you know.”

And you vowed the third time would be the last. Ah, those were the good old days when you could tear an old vampire hunter apart and the police didn’t come looking. We buried him in the old abbey down the road.”

I snapped another picture of the Countess. “Who was this old guy?”

Van Whoosing, somebody.”

Van Helsing. Magnus Van Helsing,” Rae interjected.

Son of the great Abraham Van Helsing?”

The Countess snorted. “Great? He killed Dracula and he gets a big reputation. You know, he vasn’t even alone vhen he did it? He had the help of that Qvincy Morris. He and his big knife.”

Quincy was pretty hot stuff before they skewered him,” Morton replied. “I wish I could have seen his big knife.”

Ignore her,” the Countess said. “She has veird crushes. One time, I caught her making goo-goo eyes at Grampa Munster.”

Rae sighed.

Dracula vas a nothing,” the Countess continued. “Van Helsing didn’t even try to take us on, did he, Morton?”

He was too scared.”

That is right. He sent his kid in his place. Only, when the kid caught up vith us, he was an old man. I svatted him like a fly.”

Flies,” Morton sighed again. “Yummy.”

Hey,” the Countess said to me. “Vhat is vrong with your face? You look so mad.”

It’s my bitch face,” I said, and picking up the tripod, I smashed Rae in the face. Her mouth formed a rather comical “O” before she hit the floor.

Vhat vas that for?” the Countess cried.

Do you know my name?”

Of course, I know your name. You are Ms. Ming.”

My name is Sing. Xia Sing. My father shortened our name to make us less vulnerable to attack. But I think I’ll use my full name now. It’s Van Helsing. Daughter of Sheamus and Li, granddaughter of Martin, great-granddaughter of Magnus. I’ve been searching for his murderer for quite some time.” I dropped the tripod.

The Countess snarled.

I reached into my bag, picked up the stake and flipped it into the air. A well-placed kick—taught to me by my mother—sent the stake flying. It struck the Countess like a missile and pinned her to the white screen.

I’ll kill you!” she cried.

Not if I kill you first.” I flicked the switch and the bright lights came on. She screamed as the ultraviolet light bathed her skin and turned her to so much ash.

.

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

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More from Naching T. Kassa:

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Arterial Bloom

Lush. Brutal.

Beautiful. Visceral.

Crystal Lake Publishing proudly presents Arterial Bloom, an artful juxtaposition of the magnificence and macabre that exist within mankind. Each tale in this collection is resplendent with beauty, teeth, and heart.

Edited by the Bram Stoker Award-winning writer Mercedes M. Yardley, Arterial Bloom is a literary experience featuring sixteen stories from some of the most compelling dark authors writing today.

With a foreword by HWA Lifetime Achievement Award Recipient Linda D. Addison, you are invited to step inside and let the grim flowers wind themselves comfortably around your bones.

Available on Amazon!

 

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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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Fly Eye 
by Elaine Pascale 

.“I need…,” Mona pulled the ancient parchment closer and squinted, “the eye of a fly.”

“Just the eye?” Her sister asked.

“That’s what it says.”

Morgyn snatched the parchment from her sister’s hands. “You are blind as a bat. Let me see.” She followed the antiquated writing with one arthritic finger. “It does say that.”

The sisters routinely competed, and through the course of their lives, Mona had lost most of the contests.

Morgyn smiled. “With this eye, my magic will match yours.”

Mona was not sure how she felt about that; witchcraft was the one area where she excelled.

When their familiar brought them a fly, their hopes sank.

“It is so small.” Mona frowned.

“For you, but my eyes are really good.”

Mona waited but Morgyn did not make any attempt to secure the eye.

“Go ahead.”

“It needs to be bigger.”

Mona pointed at the eye. “Explodere oculus.”

“That’s not right,” Morgyn criticized, yet the eye grew larger. Mona used her ritual knife to lift the eye.

“You are going to puncture it. You never do anything right.”

Mona ignored her sister and gently carried the eye to the cauldron.

“Don’t make a splash when you drop it in, we can’t lose any potion,” Morgyn instructed.

Mona, tired of nearly a century of her sister’s antagonism had an idea. “If it’s bigger, I bet it will be even more powerful.”

“Don’t be stupid, it’s big enough.”

Mona ignored her and repeated the chant; the eye grew so big that it no longer fit on her knife.

“Idiot!” Morgyn spat. “Now you have to pick it up with your hands and it’s dirty from the floor.”

Mona smiled and repeated the chant. Now the eye was as big as the table it had been sitting upon.

“Numbskull!  You mess everything up! If it weren’t for me, you would be stumbling around blind. If it weren’t for me—”

“If it weren’t for me and my magic, you would simply be someone with good eyesight, and now you won’t even be that.” Mona said the chant several more times until the eye became nearly as big as the room they were in.

Morgyn could see well enough to see the large eye rolling on top of her, trapping her until everything went black. 

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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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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 Boy 
by Kathleen McCluskey 

Samuel sat upon the work bench watching as Joshua labored with the mechanisms. Joshua was becoming more and more frantic; he knew that the ceremony was tonight. The elders were depending on him to complete the task. This was to be his greatest success yet he was dumbfounded why this project wasn’t finished already. He looked over at Samuel and shrugged his shoulders. Samuel’s dead eyes looked back at him.

Joshua worked in a frenzy as he adjusted the gears and the delicate components. This had to be an exact placement; the temple observance was tonight. Samuel only watched as the watchmaker began to become more and more disheartened as he worked. Joshua sighed loudly as his frustration was beginning to take over. He looked over at Samuel and wished he could assist him. Red faced and sweating he began again; this time he had the correct timing and the device began to whir and pulse. Joshua stepped back and watched the shining silver gears rotate faster and faster. He had done it! Joshua took Samuel in his arms and spun around.

The temple congregation stood on the sacred land that had been home to the temple for eons. They awaited Joshua and Samuel. They arrived and the entire sanctuary fell silent. Joshua approached the minister at the altar. He bowed his head as a show of respect. The clergy of the parish were extremely powerful and they loved their traditions. He placed Samuel upon the altar as he bent at the waist. Samuel’s lifeless eyes looked at Joshua as he sat on the front bench.

The minister began. He took the apparatus that Joshua had made and raised it into the air. He placed it beside Samuel. He lifted the boy, Samuel’s ceremonial, lavender robe billowed out around him in the soft autumn breeze. The congregation began to softly chant as he placed Joshua’s geared beacon into the boy. The all-powerful cleric began to chant along with the audience. A large gust of wind blasted the altar and the priest as he placed Samuel back onto the altar. He placed his hands onto the boy’s chest. A soft green glow began to surround Samuel. The cleric’s eyes rolled over white as he collapsed. Samuel lifted his head and looked at Joshua; his button eyes, yarn hair and burlap husk were foreign with the movement. Joshua knew that the damned soul of their savior had been released from hell. It now resided in his creation.

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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 Kendra Hale @DevourAllWords @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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In The End  
by Kendra Hale 

The silence is probably the worst part of this half-life afterlife. I wish I referred to the afterlife that is waiting for one after death and passing. The one promised where things like shame, fear, and regret dissipate. Like the sheer fact of feeling them for our brief existence became a joke. Warmth and happiness, worries cast aside as one is enfolded by the Gods and Goddesses to which they prayed and devoted themselves to.

No, in this fallout, this afterlife, those negative feelings are all I am left with. A vast, expansive void of silence filled only by my sounds and my thoughts. At times I wondered at the passing belief that this was Hell or a Purgatory. But if this were Hell, it was one made fully of man’s creation, not of a higher being.

The silence.

For decades it was debated on when and what would cause the Doomsday Clock to reach zero. From my limited knowledge, I’m quite sure eyes were watching all the more closely after the 1986 Chernobyl incident and then again after the 2011 Fukushima Daiichi incident in 2011. The world watched but pride cometh before the fall and man messed with sciences it still did not fully have control over. And isn’t that what we all crave above all? Control.

It was just a matter of time before an emotional being made the final emotional outburst. The decision that changed the face of humanity forever.

I have long wondered why I am still here, and what it was that kept me living. I watched as friends and family, acquaintances and pets were wiped from this world. Some taken quickly and hopefully only feeling but a moment of pain. While others suffered in their last weeks, their lungs drowned them as their flesh deteriorated, burning as it sloughed off their muscle and bone. Their drowned gasps haunt me in brief moments of sleep. Their skeletal faces with sunken cheeks and matching eyes follow me as I walk the ruins of this Earth.

Shadows and echoes surround me. Ripples in time as I can place familiar places but there are no faces to be found. Only death masks. Meat.

That silence. The absence of it all. No birds chirping, no music, no insects, no idle chatter, no laughter, or even anger. Just silence. My ears have gotten to the point they cannot even tolerate my own voice without bleeding so I have gone mute. My skin has grown taut and grayish yellow in pallor. Maybe that means I will die soon, I pray for that. For the end to this visage, of being the final witness to the downfall of a foolish species.

An end to this numbness. This silence.

I settle in, night is falling. My meal is ready now. He had looked young, good muscle tone at least. I thank him for the meal in my head, praying he had no radiation in him, but this ache in my stomach doesn’t have the ability to feel any apprehension.

I settle into the silence. The unending silence.

 

Fiction © Copyright Kendra Hale
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Kendra Hale:

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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!

Masterpieces
by Angela Yuriko Smith

Writer, this is yours:
An endless white space, waiting
for your masterpiece.

we heard your excuses:
workspace too dark, too cluttered
too many distractions, not enough time…
you muttered, we fluttered
and brought you the finest in excuse erasure—
inspiration by razor. now you’ll get to work.
you have ink in your veins, ideas trapped in your brains
if you could “just get them out” we heard
every word. we aim to please despite your pleas.
we’ll hold your feet to the fire—a molten magnum opus!
you said you’d give anything, this we remember
your left hand, your right eye, the rest of your liver
you give, we deliver. you create, we dismember.
pour out your creative juices, bleed for your art
we heard what you promised
and you promised
your heart.

We just want to watch
and inspire your creation
of masterpieces.

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More from Angela Yuriko Smith:

Angela Yuriko Smith is a third-generation Shimanchu-American and an award-winning poet, author, and publisher with 20+ years of experience as a professional writer in nonfiction. Publisher of Space & Time magazine (est. 1966), a two-time Bram Stoker Awards® Winner (one for a Siren’s Call ezine essay), and HWA Mentor of the Year for 2020, connect with her at

angelaysmith.com

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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!

Odonates
by Nina D’Arcangela

Beautiful creature of destruction; you are the embodiment of majesty and grandeur darting through the air; humming past in the blink of an eye, stunning your prey into a shock of paralytic fear; engaged always in aerial combat with the currents that fight your forward progress; rising, dropping, jerking, zipping.

Always seeking…

What is it you seek on those elegant gossamer wings? Perhaps the next meal that awaits you… What else would a voracious thing such as yourself desire? You, with your crushing mandibles and gnashing teeth, so willing to consume all that cross your path and thereafter, your gullet. A beast of miniscule proportion whose lust to sate itself knows no bounds – respects no boundaries.

The patter of rain does not deter you from the hunt – your need for nourishment is all consuming; it’s all your disjointed body knows. The repeated pumping of your clasping organ seeking purchase as it curves downward to secure a hold in this new and foreign terrain. Your legs spread so delicately, laid wide ever so gently, in this most opportunistic of places. Large bead like eyes of gleaming iridescence adapted for spotting the smallest of morsels passing by whilst you suckle on nature’s other offerings.

You have at last found a worthy feeding ground amongst the thin grasses of this murky bank. This piece of drift offers a perch from which you may indulge your glutinous greed. You seek a place to hide, a place of recess from which you may ambush unsuspecting prey.

Cloaked by stealth and the hush of your own inner stillness, you await what tasty treat flicks past seeking a safety all its own whilst knowing not that you are now the monstrous dark occupant which all others must fear in this previously safe harbor.

.

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More from Nina D’Arcangela:

Mental Ward: EXPERIMENTS

A dank basement, shadow filled hallways, the deep echo of a metal latch being thrown while faint screams are heard… These are the things you might experience in a place where the unspeakable happens, where conscientious action and moral turpitude turn a blind eye in the interest of advancing one’s own personal pursuits in the most deranged and unjustifiable manner. The type of place where power corrupts, and depravity runs rampant among those imbued with it. A place where the unfortunate are abandoned to the devices of those who convince themselves their actions are in the best interest of science.

Mental Ward: Experiments is a collection of ten short stories that demonstrate the worst of humanity’s ambition in the interest of ‘civilized’ advancement. Step into a world where sanity is left behind, and horror is what the doctor ordered!

Available on Amazon!

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