Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Sheri White @sheriw1965 @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


A Father’s Love
by Sheri White

Jezzie leaned over her son to kiss him good-night as she tucked him into bed.
“Tell me about Daddy again,” Nick requested.
Jezzie smiled and sat next to him. Nick couldn’t hear enough about his father, even though the two had never met. And never would.
“I fell in love with your father the minute I saw him. He was so handsome – his smile made my heart flutter.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“You know where! You’ve heard this story a million times. But okay – my dog had gotten loose, and I was chasing him, trying to get him back. I heard Flint barking a little ways ahead of me, and when I finally caught up to him, your father was petting him.
“Does this little fellow belong to you, Miss? he asked. Then he smiled, and my knees went weak.”
“Don’t tell me the mushy stuff! Tell me the brave stuff.”
Jezzie chuckled. “Sometimes I forget you’re only ten. Well, you know your grandfather didn’t approve. He forbade me to see Nicholas – “
“Like my name!”
“Yes, your name too.  So your father and I ran away and started life together on a small farm far away from my home.
A few months later, I knew I was going to have a baby – “
“That was me!”
Jezzie smiled. “He was so happy. We were going to be a family. We had so many plans.” Jezzie’s eyes darkened, tears welling in the corners. “But one night, when Nicholas was out hunting, two men barged into our house. One of them grabbed me, hurting my arm.
“Your father sent us to bring you home. You don’t belong here.
“I couldn’t believe my own father would do such a terrible, monstrous thing. I screamed for your father, pulling away from the man, but his grip was tight.
“But suddenly the door flew open and slammed against the wall. It was your father. He easily yanked the man off of me, and cracked the man’s head into the floor. He sat next to me and embraced me and asked if I was okay, if you were okay – “
Jezzie was openly crying now.
“It’s all right, Mommy – you don’t have to tell the rest. I already know it.”
“No, I want to. You need to hear how brave your father was.
“He was so concerned about you and me that he never saw the other man. Nicholas, watch out! I screamed, but it was too late. The other man had an axe and brought it down right on your father’s head.”
Jezzie shook her head. “I always thought of your father as immortal, larger-than-life. How could such a man fall to something as mundane as an axe?
“But he was still able to save me – us before he died. Somehow he got up, put his hands around the murderer’s neck and snap it. He fell back to the floor, blood seeping through the wooden slats.
“After you were born several months later, my father – that monster — came to our house, wanting to take us back to his home. I expected that. I was ready.
“His body will never be found. Nor will the bodies of his men.”
“You’re brave too, Mommy. I wish I could have known my daddy.”
Jezzie got up and pulled the covers up to Nick’s chin. “You look so much like your daddy when he was young.” She looked at the framed picture on Nick’s nightstand and smiled wistfully. She kissed his cheek once more and brushed the bangs away from his forehead, feeling small bumps under the skin.
“Your horns are going to be just as impressive as your daddy’s.”
Fiction © Copyright Sheri White
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Author Sheri White:

Widowmakers
Short Story: Things Happen Here After Dark

widowmaker [wid-oh-may-ker]
noun
1.A thing with the potential to kill men.
2.A dead branch caught precariously high in a tree which may fall on a person below.
3.A dark fiction anthology of prodigious size; large enough to use as a doorstop… or crush a man’s skull.

A few months ago one of our own, James Newman, was severely injured in a freak accident. He’s known universally in the horror fiction community as a truly great guy, and, when the news broke of the incident there was no shortage of people who wanted to help. Inside the pages of this collection, you will find tales that are lighthearted mixed in with stories that will fuel your nightmares, each one with the potential to be a WIDOWMAKER.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Lori R. Lopez @LoriRLopez @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


The Black Labrynth
by Lori R. Lopez

They were led, hands bound,
gagged and drugged by a hooded
Cult that chose them for their beauty.
Fourteen captives herded through
quiet streets in the dark of
a moonless eve.
Seven maids and seven young men,
cast into a catacomb-like vault
every nine years.  Such was the penalty
for keeping dormant the savage
temperament of a spoiled goddess whose
name stood for untamed.
The Cult Of Thera believed
humanity’s fate rested on performing
this duty.  And so, without remorse,
a solemn cadre escorted the innocents
to a concealed entrance where
palms pressed stones in an ancient wall
and a section rasped inward to reveal
the gate.  More stones indented.
This reserve barrier scraped aside.
A carved staircase disappeared
into a black abyss . . .
“May the gods show mercy.”
A low-pitched chant; a prayer for
the ritual to end and spare these victims.
“Quickly!”  Shadows loomed beyond
a torch’s glow.  The sacrifices descended,
obedient.  Their tomb sealed.
There are mazes that go for miles.
Then there are tunnels that curve and
take you in circles —
until driven insane by the sound of
your own footsteps, repeating in
somber lonesome peals.
Fruitless treads.  The strides of lost hope.
One of these maddening interminable paths
lay below the island of Krete.
A Daedalian construction, a convolution.
The life-size puzzle had a purpose.
It was sacred ground.
Guarded from public awareness.
Winding, wending ever on.
You’ve heard the legend, but this was
different.  More of a curse.
When Thera blew her top in the form of
a massive volcano, she split the ears
of deities and gave her parents colossal
headaches.  Her tantrum was so intense,
no mortal witnesses survived.
Waves towered.  Heavens turned to
ash and fumes, toxic gas in the
explosion’s aftermath.
A moment of doom and great gloom . . .
Neighbors could only guess at
its noise and fury, the days of night.
An isle named after her, bearing shrines
to the Harvest Mistress, was half-destroyed
in her flaming cauldron blast; life on
Krete forever changed by losses.
A tragedy, felt deeply above.
And it was not the first of her outbursts.
“She cannot be allowed to vent
childish wrath, to quake or spit rocks,
ignite further mountains of fire!”
The gods voted to punish Thera.
“If you have such enormous pride,
shaking land, speaking in thunder,
churning the seas, dimming the sky with
dust, we banish you to spend Eternity
as a bull, confined beneath the earth
where you will do less harm!”
Even worse, the vain goddess would
scarce be remembered . . . but for
a secret society of human caretakers.
Among them, an architect was appointed
to build her dungeon, a vast Labyrinth
based upon a spirit road to the Underworld,
a series of subterranean caves.
“I am a princess!  You cannot do this to me!”
Angry howls echoed unheeded.  She paced,
roaming desolate passages, awaiting
her next meal, yearning to be free.
The daughter of a goddess and King Minos,
she was born a vision of loveliness.
Perfect features had been marred —
reduced to the countenance of a bull!
It was a cruel trick, and her conceited heart
seethed.  “Is that dinner I hear?  It’s about
time!  I’ve been starving down in this hole!”
She hunted the latest morsels and toyed
like a cat playing Mouse.  Thera also meant
reaper in addition to a wild nature;
she might be erased from the Pantheon,
yet she was true to her name.
“You cannot hide from me.  I know these
tunnels, having stalked them for ages!
I shall sweep you with my horns
the way a sickle cuts grain!”
Fits of laughter seized her.  “I’ll be your
death!” she bellowed, suppressing
mirth.  A threatening voice rumbled
and reverberated every shaft.
The group huddled in fright as their
sedatives wore off.  Then divided,
scrambling, mice in pursuit of cheese
along a network of paths that went
round and round.
She located them one by one,
inhuman, more ogre than bull, and they
nourished the beast’s appetite.
Not her contentment.  As usual,
she offered to spare a handsome male.
“You may live if you promise
that you will stay and be my companion.”
Revealing her face, stepping into
the torchlight, she smiled.
And as always, the young man
refused — calling her hideous, ugly.
A monster.
Humiliated and spurned, Thera’s visage
burned scarlet.  Shame followed by rage
colored feminine eyes, bovine cheeks,
a fur-coated complexion.  Try though she
might, her powers had been sealed
within the Labyrinth like a burial chamber’s
gold and jewels.  Arms raised,
a second pair of horns.  “Then you must
dance with the bull!”  She charged to
sling him upon her points,
tossed him in the air and caught him
till at last he was speared.  The tauress
ate him for dessert.  And wailed at
the prospect of being alone,
unfed, another nine years . . .
Her tedium and solitude endured
even as civilizations crumbled, combined,
vanished on the surface.  Many things
would develop and disappear,
grow and wither, yet her Cult remained.
Perhaps a few members broke the vow of
silence.  As tales and rumors often did,
facts turned to fiction.  One myth
in particular emerged of a princess named
Ariadne who helped a hero escape the
perplexing maze of a Minotaur.
It read like a romance!  Thera would not
be pleased to see herself depicted in
a common and cringe-worthy fashion,
for she was a modern girl.
Fiction © Copyright Lori R. Lopez
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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More from Lori R. Lopez:

Odds and Ends

What terrors lurk in the blackest regions of a cellar, amidst dusty cobwebbed shelves, in the glass jars and metal cans of a hopelessly abnormal mind? These odds and ends are both odd and contain endings. As in the real world, not everything ends well. Sometimes it is all about finding a glimmer of light in the shadows, or being forewarned. Sometimes, the candle’s flame blows out! An assortment of the weird and wonderfully grim are displayed for your fear and amusement. Whether you like quiet horror, humorous horror, stark horror, monstrous in-your-face horror, you’ll find what scares you here. Twenty-six diverse tales and clusters of flash stories or drabbles fit together between dark poems and brief witfully pithy essays on women writing Horror like pieces of a macabre jigsaw puzzle devised by a single madwoman, Lori R. Lopez. Among the “Odds And Ends” . . . a devilish jack-in-the-box helps a young woman get even. Two little girls face-off in “Nemeses”. A very old baby is released from its jar at a museum in “Jar Baby”. Spaghetti comes to life in “Bloodwyrm”. A trainride takes one fellow on a harrowing journey toward “Fate”. A man and woman are reunited by the same curse that tore them apart in “The Fruit Of Thy Womb”. A weakling finds a dreadful “Cereal Box Surprise” at the bottom of the package. Ladies play a lethal hand of cards in “Mindless”. A couple wakes up to discover an enormous cobweb filling the house in “Spider Soup”. Falling asleep could end the world in “Awake”, while painting portraits takes a nightmarish turn for an artist in “Deathbed”. A girl watches her friends disappear on a darkly sinister beach at “The Vanishing Point”, and much much more. The print edition features peculiar illustrations by the author. DISCLAIMER: “ODDS AND ENDS isn’t necessarily a collection of happy endings. Not even the fairytales I write always end happily ever after. It will make you think and feel. If you want an uplifting book, go read HOW TO TRAIN YOUR GERBIL.” ~ Lori R. Lopez WARNING: This collection is a mixed bag, and a few of the stories are not for the more squeamish!

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Bailey Hunter @DarkRecesses @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Fate at the Gate
by Bailey Hunter

Every night for the last six at exactly 3:33 a.m. the pounding on my front door starts.  I’ve called the cops, but by the time they get here, who or whatever is doing it, is long gone. I haven’t been able to catch anyone out there either. Nearly killed myself falling down the stairs last night trying to get to the door and… I don’t actually know what I thought I’d do.
“BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG…”
I want to rush down there. Throw open the door and clock whoever it is up-side the head with a bat. Of course, I don’t own a bat. I do own a hammer though.  That would work. Except I’d be the one that ended up getting smacked in the head given my luck.
“BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG…”
How have my neighbours not heard this? It’s relentless. Maybe if I use ear plugs and cover my head with my pillow it will dull it. I’ve tested them separately without success, but maybe…
“BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG…”
Damn it! I just gotta breathe. I can’t let this get me. Someone’s shitty idea of a practical joke is not going to break me.
“BANG… BANG… BA…”
Ahhhh… there we go. Finally stopped. I will talk to the cops again tomorrow. A week is long enough. They need to do something about this. I don’t care if it’s a prank.
“BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG… BANG…”
Holy FUCK! That’s my bedroom door! Holy shit.  Where’s my phone?  Damn it, where did I put it?! Do I scream for help? Do they know I’m in here? Maybe if I hold my breath and be very still… Where’s my fucking phone?
“BANG… BANG… BANG… click… creaaaaak…”
Well, crap. Has it been 10 years already? I knew that deal was too good, but when you’re facing the death end of the big C, you don’t always make the best choices.
“Hello, Exu. It’s not good to see you again. Now, now, no need for the red-eyed glare. A deal’s a deal.”
Fiction © Copyright Bailey Hunter
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
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More about Bailey Hunter:
Bailey is a publisher with Dark Recesses Press.

Fall to Rise

If you like dark urban horror, demons and archangels, souls being flayed like shredded pork, and saving the future of the known world, you should definitely pick up FALL TO RISE by Lucas Pederson.

Available from Dark Recesses Publishing

Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author E.A. Black @ElizabethABlack @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Jar By The Door
by E.A. Black

Eleanor stooped hunchbacked as she swept up the rice from the wedding. She scooped up a handful of the tiny white dreams the couple now husband and wife had promised to each other and was overwhelmed with sadness. Her marriage lasted only two years. No children. Her husband had it annulled. It was as if she never existed at all. But that was so many long years ago.
She never remarried. Dated little and bore no heirs. She didn’t live alone if you include her three cats as constant companions, but even they came and went as they pleased, stopping by only to be fed. Eleanor was used again as she had been all her life.
Wishing her age were 36 instead of the reversal of 63, she considered the timeline of her life. She would never have married Joe. She’d have quit her boring, soul-sucking job as a secretary. She wanted her youth back; a second chance, but none came. She recalled the cold cream jar in her bathroom medicine cabinet. Her youth, once vibrant and alive, haunted the bubbly blue cream. She saw her once young face in that jar of cream every time she used it but the wrinkles and liver spots would not vanish.
Father Mackenzie spoke a short sermon at her funeral, but no one heard his words. No one came. As alone as Eleanor, he preached to the ghosts that haunted his church. He buried Eleanor in a small, unobtrusive plot behind the chapel with nothing on her grave other than her name – Eleanor Rigby. Her soul was not saved that day. She was as alone in death as she was in life.
Fiction © Copyright E. A. Black
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from E.A. Black:

Midnight Movie Creature Feature 2
Short Story: Trailer Trash Zombies

Please step inside the May December Multiplex! Check out any of our thirteen screens for tales that will titillate, tease, and terrify. Come check out a host of other nasty beasties. So pop some corn, pour a beverage of choice (alcohol is permitted provided you have appropriate ID), and pick out your most comfy seat. Yes, come in and enjoy the show. And the best part is…your ticket is good for every screen! No need to sneak from one theater to the next…it is ALL included in the price of admission! Hurry and find your seat, the show will start as soon as you are ready!

Stories by Theric Jepson, Lillian Scernica, Stuart Conover, Chantal Boudreau, Matt Kurtz, EA Black, Tom Ribas, Suzi M, D Alan Lewis, Jill Behe, Elsa Carruthers, Jay Wilburn, and Michael James McFarland.

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 Melissa R. Mendelson @melissmendelson @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


The Monsters of Men
by Melissa R. Mendelson

When my mother was at the end, she said strange things.  She talked of monsters walking through the woods.  She spoke of an ancient beast, something to never be summoned, but she summoned it.  And it marked her, and she bore a red scar that mirrored mine.  And in the end, she asked to be burned.  Burn everything, she said, or it would find her.  And it would find me.
After her funeral, I cleared out the house.  Most of the stuff was donated, but a lot was thrown out.  And in the attic, I found a small, broken chest.  Inside was a piece of paper.  It was a drawing of some kind of creature, and I shuddered.  And my scar hurt.  I never knew how I got that mark, and my mother never spoke about it.  She never spoke of my father either.
That night, it started to snow.  I used to love watching those flakes fall, but I was cold.  And I couldn’t get warm.  I called it a night and crawled into bed, but just as sleep was settling in, I heard crunching outside like deer stepping onto snow.  I moved out of the bed just as the window was fogging up like hot breath falling against the glass, and for a moment there, I saw piercing, blue eyes.
My mother’s stories were getting to me.  There were no monsters.  Still, my scar hurt.  I rubbed it as I crawled back into bed, and then I thought I heard the front door open.  But I knew that I locked it.
I was drifting off into sleep when hot breath fell across my face.  I opened my eyes and melted into the piercing blue.  My body softly shook like it was outside, under the snow.  White clouds of air slipped between us, and its lips etched close to mine.  Then, its body pressed against me, and I shuddered as its weight bore down into me.  And somewhere in the darkness, something in my belly stirred.
 Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Melissa R. Mendelson:

Please visit the following link for a Chapter 1 Transcript Reading of LIZARDIAN by MELISSA R MENDELSON. Performed by Amaka Umeh.

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Posted in Authors, Dark Fiction, flash fiction, FREE, Horror, Ladies of Horror, Writing Project | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

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

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


The Curse
by Kathleen McCluskey

Angela woke feeling groggy.  She tried to focus on anything. She realized that she was bound at the wrists and ankles. There was something strapped around her waist pinning her to what felt like wood. She stopped straining when she heard footsteps, “Hello?” she called out.  All she could hear was the click, click, click of heels on the floor. The striking of the match temporarily blinded her. The person holding the match lit a candle. When her vision returned she immediately recognized the woman and a cold sweat began to take hold of her. Standing there smiling at her was Monica, her boyfriend Carl’s wife.
“You have been sleeping with my husband. You foolish, foolish little whore. You have no clue what you have done and now what I have to do.” She walked around the room and lit row after row of candles. Candelabras of all sizes illuminated the bleak surroundings.  Angela looked, all she could see were stone walls with cobwebs hanging in large ancient streams. Monica was standing at the end of the wooden platform that she lay upon.
“What’s going on? Where am I?”
Monica thought she looked beautiful with her long black hair and perfect skin. She became even angrier when she noticed the pink streaks in her hair. She thought to herself. She looks so much younger than me. No wonder he cheated, I could never look like that. She took an ancient scroll out of her pocket along with three vials. “Bovine, Bovine chewing a cud,” she splashed the first vial onto Angela. “Mistress, Mistress pulling his pud,” she splashed the second. “Heffer, Heffer , snot from the nose,” she splashed the final vial. She smiled, “Angela, Angela shall reap what she sows.” Angela screamed, Monica spoke, “Now you filthy cow, you will look exactly like what you are. Good luck finding any man to love you now.” She turned, went up the stairs and left the deformed woman in the basement of the barn.
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 Julianne Snow @CdnZmbiRytr @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


Have You Ever…
by Julianne Snow

Part One
Have you ever felt the searing pain of a bite? The way your flesh tears away from itself, the warmth of your blood spreading outward? The white hot pain that clouds your judgement as the nerves once hidden are exposed to the harshness of the outside world?
It’s agony, pure and simple. Your body reacts with a flush of adrenaline, turning you into a super human for the moments it can stand the natural drug running through it. Pain becomes numbed, your other senses heightened, but sometimes it’s for naught.
There’s nothing you can do in the face of murderous hunger. A hunger so intense its unimaginable by those not feeding off it.
The minute I fall is the minute it’s over. The pain is more intense and while my eyes don’t want to see my own end, it is inevitable. That face, my blood smeared across it, is the image I see before it goes dark.
Part Two
Have you ever felt the instinctual need to eat? The way flesh tears away from itself, the warmth of someone’s blood as it flows down your throat? The blinding need that clouds your judgement as the taste of your victim spreads through your amygdala.
It’s ecstasy, pure and simple. Your body reacts with a flush of dopamine, turning your desire into something palpable, orgasmic. Your other senses heighten as the pleasure washes over you, you want—no, need—more.
There’s nothing you can do in the face of insatiable hunger. Your hunger so intense it transforms into unimaginable pleasure misunderstood unless you’ve felt it firsthand.
In a minute it’s over and the bliss slackens, falling off into nothingness but a dull remembrance. The pain of need becomes intense again and your smile turns into a grimace. The body before you is spent, their blood a reminder of the hunger that’s building again.
Fiction © Copyright Julianne Snow
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Julianne Snow:

JulianneSnow_TheDeadOfPenderghastManorThe Dead of Penderghast Manor

What would you do if you knew the Dead could talk?

For Chester Penderghast, it’s not the easiest of questions to answer…

Ensconced in the basement of his family’s mortuary business is the last place he wants to be, but when the conversation starts flowing, Chester’s the only living person who can hear it. What do the Dead want, and why is he the only one who can hear them?

This is not your average zombie tale—the Dead don’t want to eat your brains, but they will chew your ear off!

Available on Amazon!

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