The Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Marge Simon @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction #poem #poetry #poet

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Keeping Time

by Marge Simon

He keeps that watch beside our bed. He winds it every night. It is a peculiarly shaped watch, all sharp corners and edges. I loathe it.  A thousand ticks and I can’t sleep. When he wants me, he shakes my arm. All though it – all though the banging and slapping of his body on mine, I hear the clicks of that damnable time piece. Sometimes I wonder if he times his own release, for it surely has nothing to do with me.
This evening, he calls for his supper. He wants it in his study, he says. I see him consult the watch and place it next to his stack of books and papers. I’m not surprised when he tells me sternly just how long it should take and precisely when I am to bring it in. I dread these moods of his, for they are becoming more and more frequent. He’s consumed with his research. And his indigestion problems.
“You realize that I could alter history, Martha. It’s a simple matter of slipping between a fraction of an instant and circumventing the inevitable.” I don’t understand what he is saying, but it doesn’t matter. When we were wed, I thought he cared for me. Foolish thought! He speaks to me as if I were a child.
So I count the seconds into minutes as I prepare his meal.  I have been adding a bit of arsenic to his vegetables, his soups. It began with just a trace amount. This night, I’ll give him a final dose within the stew. It shall be served on time.
My dear husband, I do believe I’ve circumvented the inevitable. And I think I know what that means, now.
Fiction © Copyright Marge Simon
Image courtesy of


More from Marge Simon:


Satan’s Sweethearts
by Marge Simon and‎ Mary Turzillo

Satan’s Sweethearts – a collection of poems by Marge Simon and Mary Turzillo featuring the most monstrous, evil women throughout history!

Available on Amazon!




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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Sonora Taylor @sonorawrites @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

They Trapped My Thoughts Inside My Head
by Sonora Taylor

He trapped my thoughts inside my head
Afraid of what they’d bring.
He worried that the pain they caused
Would find its way to him.
He held me down and tied a cord
Around my tattered mind.
He smiled as he saw that all
My words were in a bind.
But in his swiftness to ensure
My thoughts were tightly bound,
The cord was stretched too tightly
And he heard an awful sound.
I soon cried out! My thoughts burst through!
Their darkness and their tones
Lay scattered on the floor
Along with all his broken bones.
I smiled at the knowledge of
Just what my thoughts could do.
Be careful, for the pain they caused
Could find its way to you.
Fiction © Copyright Sonora Taylor
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More from Sonora Taylor:

WITHER and Other Stories

Should we or shouldn’t we? It’s a question many ask themselves each day. Should we or shouldn’t we wither in a wooded paradise instead of a broken city? Leave our home when the news warns us of what’s outside? Join in a circle of nighttime delights? Be with someone who awakens our sins?

“Wither and Other Stories” tells four tales of the choice to partake. In the end, the choice may not need to be made. For when we ask ourselves, “Should we or shouldn’t we,” the answer is always yes.

Available on Amazon!


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The Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Stephanie Ayers @theauthorSAM @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

by Stephanie Ayers

“You know what happens to the naughty girls. Now c’mon, Vanessa. Straighten up and fly right!” Rebecca eyed the small girl sitting before her. Water pooled at the edges of the unkempt child’s eyes, and she sighed. “What will I do with you?” She signaled for the girl to come closer, and the child complied. She wrapped her arms around Vanessa and held her for a moment.
“M-M-M-Miss Austin is a big meany,” the girl said. “I d-d-d-didn’t d-d-d-do it. They always b-b-b-blame m-m-me!” Vanessa hid her face in the folds of Rebecca’s long black hair.
Rebecca pulled the girl back and straightened her. “There’s a reason for that.”
“B-b-b-be-c-c-cause I’m s-s-s-stupid.Th-that’s all.”
“How easily you forget.” Rebecca’s said, sternly. “It’s not all about your stutter, you know. You did this to yourself telling those fables.”
Vanessa shrank away from Rebecca and stared at the floor. “They aren’t f-f-f-f-fables. I s-s-saw her. The m-m-monster really exists! I s-s-s-swear!”
As much as Rebecca wanted to believe Vanessa, she remained skeptical. “Seeing is believing.”
Vanessa eyed her for a moment. “B-b-bel-li-li-lieving is s-s-seeing. Puh-puh-please M-M-Miss M-M-Markus. S-S-She is cuh-cuh-cuh-coming.”
Rebecca frowned. This was more serious than she thought. This poor child really believed the local legends to be true. Everyone knew the story, but nothing had happened for years, not since Rebecca’s mother was an infant. The legend said that anyone in possession of this small cloth doll with wicked green circles around her eyes, scars on her face, and straw-like brown hair could summon the witch against anyone they wanted. The witch in doll form would exact her revenge and bad things happened to the person on the receiving end. Mostly, they just vanished. Sometimes the doll owners disappeared, too. There were even some rumors that the doll would come to life if you tried to destroy it, which is why it still managed to survive after all these years. To make matters worse, the Boobah Bruha still circulated thanks to the handiwork of a small craft store downtown. The girls of the boarding school loved scaring each other, and the Boobah Bruha held more fright than Bloody Mary. After all, one didn’t need to say her name three times in a mirror to summon her, they only needed a doll, and they all had one. Rebecca confiscated them as often as she could, but the doll always found its way back to the owner.
“It’s just a doll, Vanessa.” Rebecca opened a desk drawer and pulled a Boobah Bruha doll out. Vanessa screamed and ran to the other side of the room. Rebecca presented the doll and sighed when the girl tried to climb into the wall. “Look!” She punched the doll in the chest. “It’s just a doll.” She threw the doll on the ground and stomped on it. She picked it up and shook it at Vanessa. She grabbed a pencil and stuck it into the doll’s cotton filled chest. “See? The Boobah Bruha isn’t real.”
Vanessa’s eyes rounded in fright. “You sh-sh-sh-shouldn’t have d-done th-that, M-Miss Markus.”
Rebecca shook the doll again. She looked deep into Vanessa’s eyes. “Why? It’s just a doll. Just! A! Doll! You can’t hurt a doll.” Rebecca held it out to Vanessa who shrank further into the wall. Suddenly the doll felt heavy in Rebecca’s arms.
“M-M-Miss M-M-Markus, look! The doll!”
Rebecca stared as the doll grew in size. The normally smiling face now held a pointed-tooth snarl on it. When the doll had grown to the size of a small adult, it attacked. Rebecca screamed as it knocked her off her feet and bit into her flesh. “Run, Vanessa, run!”
Vanessa pulled Miss Austin into the room, her stutter so bad she couldn’t speak. Tears spilled as she entered.
“What is so important you had to drag me all the way to the other side of the campus?” Miss Austin’s angry tone made Vanessa flinch.
“M-M-M-Miss Aus-s-s-stin…” Vanessa tried. She held her hands out instead.
“Meh, meh, meh,” The teacher’s face twisted in disgust. She put a hand on either side of Vanessa’s face and turned it to view the room. “There is no one here. Such a waste of time.” Miss Austin dropped her hands to her waist and spun on her heel. She stomped out of the room.
Tears still flowed from Vanessa’s eyes. She moved closer to the desk and stopped. A scream caught in her throat as she stared at the chalkboard. There at the top center dangled a stuffed doll with long black locks of hair, and a rope tied around her neck. A sinister giggle echoed from the corner of the room. Vanessa turned and her mouth dropped as her eyes caught the Boobah Bruha, once again in doll size, lurking there. It took one step towards her and then another.
Fiction © Copyright Stephanie Ayers
Image courtesy of


More from author Stephanie Ayers:

The 13: Tales of Macabre

Can you survive all 12?

Killer watermelons, murderous jewelry boxes, centenarian sea whisperers, creatures of myth/legend, and more…

This supernatural story collection will make you reconsider everything you thought you knew. At night you’ll hover under your covers while looking over your shoulder in the day. Down, down in the depths they fell; bodies in the dark of a liquid hell. Can you survive all 12?

This is the second collection in The 13 series. Will you survive all 13?

With forward by JM Ames and poetry by Stacy Overby.

Available on Amazon!


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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Witching Hour
by Ela Lourenco

There is a special time between night and day
Where neither sun nor moon hold sway.
Neither dark nor light is the sky
It is the time that we come out to play.
Dusk is when we come alive
It is a most magical time
Awaken do we, creatures of lore
Witches, vampires, gargoyles and many more.
The forests are our feeding ground
The roots of the trees our home
We sleep eyes open while humans roam
If one happens by at dusk they are fair game.
My stony skin bursts open at the scent of fresh blood
Might is right and I rule them all
My blood red eyes see in the half-light
I lick my lips as I pick the bones clean
That will keep me going until tomorrow eve.
Fiction © Copyright Ela Lourenco
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More from Ela Lourenco:


Katra is a Fae Hunter in a world once ravaged by a terrible war. Having lost all memory of her childhood and rightful identity, her duty is now to protect the tentative peace brokered by the varying races of the supernatural world. When an evil darkness begins to spread, draining young witches of their power, Katra must find a way back to her true past in order to save the future.

Enduring many trials as ever-increasing powers awaken within her, Katra must also struggle with the mixed emotions her new partner, Blade – a Black Dragon – is rousing within her. Together they must battle the shadows that plan to devour the world they know and prevent its decent into another thousand-year war.

Can Katra hold onto her strength as the truth of her very being begins to unravel? Can she bear the weight that ancient prophecy has placed on her young shoulders? Or is her destiny to regain her true self, only to lose the world she is sworn to protect?

Available on Amazon!


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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Tawny Kipphorn @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


by Tawny Kipphorn

Each night I watch as the moonlight dances upon the shore. The high tide and full moon are the only ingredients necessary to achieve the grand prize, but tonight the alignment of Jupiter alongside Ursa Major and Minor has filled me with a warm delight. One could endeavor to rip open my chest to reveal what has replaced my heart, and all they would see is the mighty Atlas, encased within a block of ice.
This perfect marriage of planetery proportions shall assist my navigation of the mythical vessel. My dreams are plagued by visions of the Arcus lighthouse and the raging waters of the Sea of Callisto. I know within her depths, beneath the mounting pressure, lies Atlas himself upon her darkened floors. Like Poseidon bereft of his mighty trident, I wander eternally before the vista, transfixed by the silent promise of a reunion worthy only of the angels most high.
Fiction © Copyright Tawny Kipphorn
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More from Author Tawny Kipphorn:

A Shadow of Autumn

Fall—a season as beautiful as it is foreboding. A Shadow of Autumn takes you back to childhood nostalgia while peeling away the mask to reveal things that haunt your worst nightmares. Within these pages, you’ll find the usual denizens of the holiday—demons, witches, ghosts, and bloodsuckers—along with strange and unknown creatures lurking everywhere from innocuous cornfields and pumpkin patches to basement hatches and high school dances. These fourteen tales of fall magic and Halloween horrors will keep you looking over your shoulder long after the last light of October has waned. Don’t say we didn’t warn you…

Available on Amazon! 


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The Living Body by Lee A. Forman – member of @PenoftheDamned @LeeAndrewForman #Horror #flash #fiction

Change is a good thing, or so we are told. But is all change good? I venture to say this piece by Pen of the Damned member Lee A. Forman may just change your mind…

The Living body

His abdomen split down the middle and opened wide. But still, he held my eyes without expression. No pain, no surprise, no suffering could be read. I stared back, waiting to see what would happen next.

His sweaty frame shuddered and limbs bent at unnatural angles. I could hear bones snap. Organs began to leave his abdominal cavity of their own volition. They spread around the body, stretching, morphing, becoming more than they were intended by nature. My eyes strained to witness the full detail of the event. Strange to watch a man turn inside-out, even stranger to see him alive and unflinching.

His body stopped seizing and he continued to stare. Something in his eyes I couldn’t explain… I only hoped the restraints would hold against his growing mass.

I began to step back. Tendrils of meaty innards began to emerge from the mess that used to be his healthy insides. They extended, wavered in the air as if reaching for me. His neck bent at an odd angle, but his hard eyes kept a fix on me, followed me if I moved.

Regret began to form in the pit of my bowels. Not due to mercy or guilt, but because I might be its first victim. That wasn’t what I had intended.

One of the grotesque appendages evolved a mouth at its end. It opened and sprayed me with a bodily fluid I could not identify. My gut heaved until its contents expelled—it was the most vile smelling thing I’d ever experienced.

The pain in my stomach grew, at first I thought from vomiting, but muscles contracted so hard it felt as though they’d rip apart. Heat spread through me as though I’d caught fire from the inside. The final pull on my tender muscles tore them free of each other, spreading the outer flesh open with them.

A moment of vicious agony, then one of the most serene nature. No pain, no fear, just content.

I watched with calm as my innards transformed, given life of their own, expanding and changing and becoming more than just parts a biological machine. They had life, as if I gave birth to them. They were with me, and I them. I had to care for them, bring them what they needed.

I left the man who gave me this gift strapped down, his children screaming, as I ventured to do what all life is meant to do—procreate.

∼ Lee Andrew Forman

© Copyright Lee Andrew Forman. All Rights Reserved.

Visit Pen of the Damned for more great pieces from The Damned!


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Sacrifice to the Gods, by @PenoftheDamned Member, A.F. Stewart. @scribe77 #free #horror #fiction

A story of betrayal, sacrifice and a wee bit of regret by Pen of the Damned member, A.F. Stewart. 

Sacrifice to the Gods

In the tomb of the gods, the dark soul stirred, the long-dormant bones staring through shadows with hollowed eyes. Someone called its name, spilled blood from a fresh kill upon the stone. In the inky black it waited, as red fluid slowly dripped through the earth. Soon its skull would stain red and it would rise again.

Above ground, shaking in the moonlight, Doug stared at the woman he killed. He watched her blood pool on the ancient carved stone and flow over the edge into the soil. The name he whispered still echoed in his ears.

How did I know that name?

He dropped the knife that slit her throat and it landed with a thud on the dirt. He fell to his knees, tears in his eyes.

Why did I come here? Bring her here? Why did I do it? Adelaide, I’m so sorry.

The blood twisted a path deep into the earth, descending far enough to slither along its bone. It welcomed the sensation, the warm fluid against its skull, human essence giving it life once more. Its bones twitched, a finger moving in spasms. If it still had flesh it would have smiled. The rebirth had begun.

Doug reached out a hand, touching Adelaide’s blood-stained sleeve. He noticed her blood on his clothing as well and withdrew his hand as if it had been burned. His gut churned and he turned away, vomiting on the grass.

“Such a pitiful reaction to death.”

Doug twisted back around, horrified and strangely relieved at the sound of Adelaide’s voice. Her body sat upright, staring at him with bright orange eyes. Her throat no longer gaped with an open wound where he sliced it, but her blouse was still soaked in her blood. Doug shook his head, as if to clear the strange image, but she only sat there staring at him.

He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “Is this a dream? A nightmare? Oh, baby, tell me you’re still alive.”

“No.” Adelaide’s mouth coiled into a wide grin. “She is dead. Dead so I may be reborn. She is my vessel now. It is an honour for her.”

Doug rocked back and forth, whimpering. “I don’t understand any of this. What’s happening?”

Adelaide’s eyes showed pity. “Of course you don’t understand, human. You are just a pawn, born to achieve my resurrection. It is not your place to understand, only serve. Which you did beautifully.” Adelaide’s hand stroked Doug’s cheek and he sighed at her cold touch. Adelaide’s voice murmured, “You are special. You are mine.”

Doug suddenly pulled away. “I don’t want to be yours! You’re not her! I want my Adelaide!”

“Don’t worry, you will see her again. When I said you were mine, I meant this.”

Adelaide’s mouth stretched wide, into a grotesque maw with three rows of razor-sharp teeth, dripping green ooze. Her hands sprouted claws that slashed Doug’s shoulders before she threw him on his back, pinning him to the ground. He screamed and kept screaming as the beast that inhabited Adelaide ripped into his flesh and began to devour him. He survived her shredding teeth and tearing claws for ten minutes before death took him. Only his bones remained when she finished her meal. She wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand and looked out at the world.

She whispered, “I’m still hungry.”

~ A. F. Stewart

© Copyright 2018 A. F. Stewart. All Rights Reserved.

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