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

Posted on November 29, 2022 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Femme Fatale 
by Asena Lourenco 

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Sage silk cascaded down her body 

The evening light highlighting her golden skin.

The harmonious sound of the water at her feet

Complimented the melody of the tune she began to sing,

Her angelic voice drew beauty to the mystical pond,

The moss on the branches swaying in rhythm,

The gentle hum of the dragonflies set a calming tone,

As I dreamt of the person that lay within,

But the trance-like reverie that I was in

Slowly started to fade,

As the dulcet music began to dim,

I saw the nature of her true face.

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Fiction © Copyright Asena Lourenco
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.

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More about Asena Lourenco:

AsenaAsena Lourenco is 14 years old. She loves reading, playing Scottish traditional fiddle music on her violin, dancing, and martial arts as well as writing her own stories.

She would like to be a teacher and writer when she grows up. She also loves cats and babies!

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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

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

Posted on November 28, 2022 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Visitors
by Elizabeth H. Smith

The glow of night shined on this visiting creature. It gazed at me from beyond the window. I looked upon its form, how it held such mystery, grace, and beauty. I smiled as it blinked its eyes. It then gazed deeply at me, so hard, so harsh, I could not look away. A subtle vibration hummed beneath my feet. It expanded, then surrounded me in a suffocating mass of soundless noise. I wanted to run, but my body was frozen in place.


Hands grasped my arms and legs from behind, and gently they carried me outside where a light shined from the sky. I thought at that moment that Heaven had opened its gates and let me see its beauty. Perhaps I died in my sleep and my visitor had been there to guide me. My body rose from the ground, carried up by invisible hands, as if the beaming light itself could hold me.


But beyond that shining joy, darkness waited. The creatures who had taken me from my room circled around me as I lay supine suspended in the air. My heart quickened. Fear replaced hope as they inserted a large needle into the back of my neck. I gasped from the pressure, but there was no pain—only numbness. I felt something leave my body, some piece of me. Then more. The tall beings stared blankly as I tried to scream but didn’t make a sound.

My thoughts of Heaven turned to Hell. Had I been so wrong in life to deserve eternal torment? Did I not earn the company of angels?


I watched as my body was painlessly taken apart, piece by piece. Strange tools took little by little until there wasn’t anything left except ruined meat and fragmented bone. Madness took hold long before the end. When there wasn’t anything left to take, just a head and spine with some sinew hanging on, I was taken to a place filled with those who came before me. At least our silently screaming souls would be together.

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Fiction © Copyright Elizabeth H. Smith
Image courtesy of Pixabay
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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 Kim Richards @Kim_Richards @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on November 28, 2022 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Fall
by Kim Richards 

Zoya sat on her park bench beneath a sky gray with clouds. Oak and aspen leaves of the autumn colors of gold, red, and brown littered the ground around its twisted steel legs and the path nearby. Last night’s rain drenched everything and still came down like spittle. She reached out her left foot to nudge the closest leaf with the toe of her ragged tennis shoe but couldn’t reach it with her short legs.

A man and woman wearing dark clothing ran past. Each step squished the wet leaves beneath their boots with a soggy sound. Their breaths sent puffs of steam out into the air.

They look cold. Zoya rubbed her bare arms with her hands. She wasn’t. She hadn’t known the discomfort of cold, hot, or anything since…since the fall.

White light so bright it sent waves of pain from her head throughout the rest of her body. She flinched and squeezed her eyelids closed tight, unwilling to visit the memory. She had no choice. It intensified. She cried out from the pain.

Her memory took her back to when she sat on a tree branch high above the bench. She swung her legs in little circles and turned her face to the warm sun.

Mama would be mad if she knew her daughter came outside but Zoya didn’t care. Tired of hiding in their raggedy house, she wanted to run and sing and chase the squirrels. She went down to the basement and snuck out the small window when the adults went in search of firewood.

Now, perched up in the tree, she listened to the birds chirping and a squirrel chattering at her for making it run. Off in the distance a dog barked. It sounded like Doni’s hound. Zoya hadn’t seen her friend or the dog in months.

A sharp crack split the air, sending the birds fleeing skyward and the squirrel down the tree trunk. Hot pain hit Zoya in the chest. The impact from the bullet sent her tumbling backward. She hit the ground hard. All of her joints ached but her chest screamed as it leaked blood.

A man carrying a rifle moved to stand over her. Black hate filled his eyes. He said something to her but she didn’t understand. Her world grew dark.

Mama, I fell. Please don’t be mad.

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Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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

Posted on November 27, 2022 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

First Priority
by Sue Renol

I checked that box every day without fail. I had to. It was the only way to make sure. When it came, I’d know. And I wanted to know as soon as possible. Why waste a day when life is so short? I’d no idea when it would arrive, just that it would. That day would brighten my world beyond my expectations. My fantasies had to remain fiction until the moment I opened up that parcel. The universe would open up to me as I opened the box. I only hoped it’d be sooner than later.


The day finally came, and with it, great excitement. I held the package in my hands and felt its every corner. The waxy paper and twine smelled of an old bookstore. My legs trembled as I pulled the string and opened the outer wrapping. Within lay the box I waited so long for. I pulled off the lid and gazed upon its contents. The gold ring was still there, as requested. I never cared enough to wonder what they did with the rest of him, but he promised me his hand in marriage, and now I’d have it forever.

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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 Ela Lourenco @ElaLourenco @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on November 27, 2022 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Ghosts of the Ancestors  
by Ela Lourenco 

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Spirits of my ancestors

Heed my call

I sit here broken

Heart shredded, alone

Faerie our motherland

Once wash with laughter and joy

Home of never-ending music

And glittering wings

Is no more

The shadows came

Vile creatures from below

Leeching all the colour and life

From our timeless race

I beseech you ancestors

Heed my call

I too am dying

But before I succumb

Lend me your powers

For my revenge…

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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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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

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

Posted on November 26, 2022 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Peace
by Nadia Corin

Strange that this bird of night should glow with such vibrancy. I stared at it for some time, and it
only stared back. My gaze did not deter it or make it take flight. It seemed sad as it looked upon
me, as it if regret filled its mind. It had a gentleness to the way it seemed to speak without
words. I felt its warmth and its empathy in my heart.
I nodded to the peaceful owl and continued my nightly walk. Another bright light caught my
gaze, but it was too late. Rubber skidded against the pavement with a screech. I wasn’t sure
what happened at first, but as I lay on the road looking up at that watchful owl, it blinked its
eyes and flew away.

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Fiction © Copyright Nadia Corin
Image courtesy of Pixabay
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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Michelle Joy Gallagher @Aphelia @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on November 26, 2022 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Cupcake 
by Michelle Joy Gallagher 

There was a trail along the river dotted with park benches and stately oaks where Claire found herself more often than not, especially when she wasn’t feeling well. She’d moved into the adjacent apartment complex 3 years ago in the fall, and the beautiful colors of the leaves had called to her, drew her in.
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She regretted bringing Reggie here. All of it felt tied to him now. She tried her best to make it her own again, but the thought of him coated everything like a dull film. It dampened the colors she loved so much. He had appeared to her like out of a dream but quickly turned into a nightmare, getting increasingly angry at her for tiny things. She clung to him and tried to please him but as time went on it was an impossible task. He vanished just as quickly as he’d come, leaving without a word or a trace.
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It was late in the evening with tears in her eyes she’d finally given up at finding peace. She took a deep hitching breath that masked the voice at first. She stood to head home when the voice spoke again.
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“Hey cupcake.”
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It was Reggie’s nickname for her. She whipped around expecting to see him standing there in his wool jacket but there was no one.
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She pulled her sweater closed and crossed her arms and started the trek back to her apartment. The leaves stirred in a sudden breeze and beneath the sound of them swirling was the sound of footsteps behind her.
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She stopped and looked around. Nothing.
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As soon as she turned back around, a hand fell upon her shoulder, fingers pinching the tender part of her neck. “Where you going cupcake?” The fingers dug in punctuating the last word. She could feel breath in her ear as the voice spoke.
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She tried to break away and run but her other shoulder was grasped tightly and she was pulled backward, falling hard on the path. She cried out in pain. Standing over her was the dark fog outline of a tall man in a wool coat. She covered her face and screamed. She’d hit her head hard. When she opened her eyes again the fog was no longer there but her vision blurred and the back of her scalp was bleeding. She thought she had been rid of her ghost but she was mistaken.
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Fiction © Copyright Michelle Joy Gallagher
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Michelle Joy Gallagher:
31dLq1v2KHL._SX308_BO1,204,203,200_Disremembering
Welcome to Blackhawk, Colorado. Blackhawk has always been strange. Natural disasters. Disappearances. Murders. High strangeness is a part of daily life. We can’t hope to explain it, but we can chronicle its past. Learn from it. Fear it. Blackhawk is an experimental fiction series set in a shared universe, written by a variety of talented authors. It is the brainchild of David M Brown (Plague Doctor, Modern Animals) and Carl D Smith (Moleb the Giant, Darkness Out of Carthage). Each story will contribute to an organic, evolving mythology as diverse as the voices behind its tales. For fans of True Detective, Lost Highway, Twilight Zone, and The Terror. This is Volume Two of the series and contains five stories by five different authors, each in tune with the specific strangeness Blackhawk has to offer. NOTE: For fans of Lake Lord Publishing’s prior horror titles, be warned that Blackhawk will contain content that is perhaps more disturbing and mature.

Available on Amazon!

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

Posted on November 25, 2022 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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Post Box Number 354 
by Kathleen McCluskey 

Gunther sat in the crowded, claustrophobic, smoke-filled auction house. He desperately wanted to win the bid for the post box; a box that had a legendary mysticism in his family. One of the units belonged to his grandfather and it was said to house his journals. It had been buried in rubble when the allies bombed Berlin. Now it sat illuminated through the cigarette scented fog; beckoning to Gunther. He had to have it.

The bidding war commenced and Gunther was victorious. He couldn’t wait to get it home and open the infamous box 354. The legend with his family was that his grandfather was a crusader for justice; that he tried to help the German people during the tyranny of the Third Reich. A proud legacy to have being a native Berliner.

Gunther struggled to pry open the box. After trying time and again there was an audible, “pop” when the box finally sprang open. Gunther looked inside. There were no journals in the compartment, but he could see something shiny hidden in the back. He turned it over and shook it; falling out was a death’s head Nazi hat. Aghast Gunther picked it up. He was confused why this hat would be in his grandfather’s possession. He figured that it belonged to one of the many SS officer’s that had met their fate courtesy of his grandfather. He turned it over and over in his hands examining it. Gunther placed the hat onto his head. Immediately he could feel the darkness of unconsciousness prying at his mind. Gunther closed his eyes and passed out.

When he woke he was already standing; he wasn’t sure how. He looked down and was shocked that his red tank top had been replaced with a black jacket. He ran his fingers down the ice-cold buttons and along the bottom of the coarse wool. His eyes trailed down to his legs and feet. He was dressed in black pants and boots that came up his calf. Gunther looked up and out at his surroundings. He stumbled backward when he discovered he was not in his living room any longer. He stood slack jawed and dumfounded until the stench of human waste and burning flesh reached Gunther’s nose; he wrinkled it. The nausea rose in Gunther and he had to get away. He placed his hand over his nose and mouth as he sprinted towards the nearest building.

As he entered the ramshackle structure he was greeted with a cacophony of “Heil Hitler”. Gunther lifted his head and removed his hand. He looked around the room and the doctors and nurses were saluting him with their right hand in the air. He looked around and was disgusted at what he saw. There were men, women and children in the beds; all in different stages of discomfort. He turned towards the mirror that was on the wall. He stumbled backwards when he saw the reflection looking back at him. Gunther was dressed in a commandant uniform. Medals and ribbons adorned the upper lapel, his officer insignias shone in the muted light of the hospital. His grandfather’s face as a young man looked back at him. Gunther looked around and saw a sign hanging on the wall that made him collapse. “Arbeit Macht Frei” (Work sets you free) and he knew that he was at Auschwitz. His grandfather’s legacy was a lie.

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 Alyson Faye @AlysonFaye2 @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

Posted on November 25, 2022 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


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A Sailor’s Lament
by Alyson Faye 

Painted with moonshine

wings a-flutter, scapula carved

from oysters’ pearls, second skin

woven by your followers.

You wait, at your vigil,

lantern-lit, storm-soaked.

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Eyes black as jet, lips ruby-red,

skin soft as cream.

You will bring me home

from the raging, squally seas

and its ravenous monsters –

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sweet, oh so sweet your kiss . . .

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we will lie together,

awash with lust and longing,

on a bed of moss and sea spume.

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Your hair unbound, ripples,

then coils around my wrists,

handcuffed, love-locked,

we soar skywards,

close as a whisper,

wings feathering the air,

testing, taunting, trusting

we plunge . . .

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Fiction © Copyright Alyson Faye
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Alyson Faye:

133090884_729346164687069_5229257982964817440_n

The Lost Girl & Spindleshanks

The Lost Girl
A nailed-up door. An inheritance which comes with a ghost. A missing girl. A fifty-year-old mystery. Parapsychologist Berkley Osgood is hired to investigate. What he uncovers reveals secrets the living want to hide and the dead will never forgive.

Spindleshanks
Adam is having nightmares about a skeletal shadow figure, who he calls Spindleshanks. Soon his whole class are sharing the same nightmare. Adam’s dad, Rob, knows that Spindleshanks can’t be real. But is he? One terrible night Rob has to face his son’s nightmare creature and fight for his son’s life. What would you sacrifice to have your child back safe?

“A decent two-for-one. Alyson Faye brings the engaging and eerie in equal measure.” CC Adams – horror / dark fiction author

Available on Amazon!

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

Posted on November 24, 2022 by Ladies of Horror

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

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The Story-teller   
by Kendra Hale 

Passionate.

She wanted to be known as passionate whenever her name was spoken in tandem with her work. Dedicated sounded too far removed from the human element and since that was the core and heart of her work …that was just unacceptable.

In truth it was more than an obsession, her work was more demanding than that. It could be better described as an addiction. She loved the complete image that came from hours of miniscule parts. Textures and details that when interwoven together gave something whole and alive. An essence.

The formality and decorum of it all. The controlled and organized chaos, put together after years of practice and learning. The journey of the meticulous steps from collecting her materials, selecting her medium, carefully choosing her brushes and palette knives. The smell of the freshly stretched canvas, the chemical smell of the cleansers and toners, fixtures, and inks. All of it came together in a ceremony splayed out before her ready for the ritual to begin.

But the paint…

That was the most magical part of it and undeniably the most important aspect of it.

The collection of her paint was always satisfying and set the tone for whatever piece was to be created. She had always known what was needed from a medium.

For this piece she had envisioned a weeping angel. It was crystal clear to her that she required a graceful, hauntingly sad man or woman to play her muse.

Theresa had been the perfect provider, rain had mingled with her tears on that battered park bench creating one entity unintelligible from one another. Her white dress had clung to her body and the racking sobs should have held screams or gasps. Cries of utter despair should have emanated from her lips but there was nothing…a silent agony. She was sheer perfection in her tragedy.

The thick red paint was so dark in the jar, but her thinner would help it be more manageable on the canvas. As her brush kissed the canvas her soft smile was ready for this new story to be told. Theresa would live on, forever encased in that last emotion.

 

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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