Poor Charlie

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by Hari Navarro

 

I was sixteen the first time. Never sensed anything like it. Such wonder. Worlds away from the fantastical lies that curled my toes and suppressed my exasperated sighs as the father spoke down from his pulpit.

Poor Charlie, loved since he was but a ball of foundling fur. His rot grabbed me and I sat transfixed as the faeries nipped, tugged, and gulped down the flesh from the now exposed cage of his ribs.

I called my parents—they, too, stared yet all they saw were mites and flies and maggots.

I was sixteen when I first encountered the fae.

Hari Navarro

Hari Navarro has for many years now been locked in his neighbour’s cellar. He survives due to an intravenous feed of puréed extreme horror and sticky-spiced unicorn wings. His anguished cries for help can be found via 365 Tomorrows, Breachzine, AntipodeanSF, Horror Without Borders, Black Hare Press, and HellBound books. 

 

 

Cold Blue

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by Kelly Matsuura

 

Celyna examined Davenall’s face with a critical artist’s eye.

“Your irises are like their own universe. Do all faeries have such icy blue eyes?”

“Just the naughty ones,” Davenall teased.

“How will I paint the moving colours?” she mused.

“Look deeper.”

“Okay.” Celyna locked her gaze on his. She tried to blink but couldn’t. She tried to turn her neck, also couldn’t. The swirling, entrancing pools made her dizzy. Her entire body shook.

Davenall held her tight. “A little more.”

“Stop! Don’t do this!” She realised too late that he was draining her creative essence.

“Leanan sídhe.”

An artist no more.

Kelly Matsuura

Kelly Matsuura writes diverse YA, fantasy, and literary fiction.
She is the creator of The Insignia Series anthologies (Asian fantasy themed) and has had stories published with Ink & Locket Press, A Murder of Storytellers, Black Hare Press, Harbinger Press, and many more.

Spoils

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by Chris Bannor

 

She held the knife between her teeth, hands buried second knuckle deep into the beating heart of her prey.  In the deep of the woods, no one remembered to look for her kind anymore. They were easy prey, especially when they saw her diminutive size.

She might be no taller than a human child, but she was no innocent. When the others came into her sidhe, they learned.  The fae may be small, but her bite was ferocious, and her tastes were bloody.

She drank, the hot splash of copper racing over her tongue was welcome after her well-won fight.

 

Chris Bannor

Chris Bannor is a speculative fiction writer who lives in Southern California. Chris learned her love of genre stories from her mother at an early age and has never veered far from that path. You can follow Chris on Facebook @chrisbannorauthor

Infinity Mirror

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by Beth W. Patterson

 

Why is the flora on my family’s land suddenly so much thicker?

The sharp cry of a baby freezes me in my tracks. If someone abandoned a child, I have to make sure that it doesn’t die.

Wriggling on a bed of ferns is an infant girl. But the most unsettling thing is the birthmark on her cheek. It’s identical to my own.

The figure stepping into the clearing could pass for an old photograph of my mother as a young woman.

My eyes are reflected in her dagger. Her wings unfold as she croons, “Now the cycle begins again.”

 

Beth W. Patterson

Beth W. Patterson was a full-time musician for over two decades before diving into the world of writing. She is the author of the books “Mongrels and Misfits” and “The Wild Harmonic” and a contributing writer to over thirty anthologies. Patterson has performed in nineteen countries and never sleeps.

 

Paradise Mobile Estates 2016

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by V.A. Vazquez

 

He sat on the secondhand couch in their mobile home, springs prodding into his lower back. Flipping the tab on another can of Bud Light, he watched the moths flutter around the trailer park. One of them, with wings the same colour as greasy pizza boxes, flew a little too close to the bug zapper and then…

Zzzzzzp!

It crumpled onto the patchy grass sprouting in front of their doorstep. As he listened to the radio next door playing música tejana, he flexed the broken wingstalks between his shoulder blades.

“Yeah, bud,” he said, toasting the fallen moth. “Me, too.”

 

V.A. Vazquez

V.A. Vazquez writes urban fantasy and dark romance. She currently lives in Glasgow, Scotland, with her husband and small doggo.
Website: www.vavazquez.com.

Mirror, Mirror

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by S.O. Green

 

The mirror is cracked and the cracks are spreading.

It started when I scratched the symbol on the glass. The one from the book. The one I couldn’t get out of my head.

In every line, I see a nightmare. In every facet, I see a dream. In the centre is a keyhole. Beyond, another world.

It whispers to me in my sleep. It calls to me while I work. I taste its colours and hear its darkness and feel its gentle music on my skin.

My reward is coming.

The cracks are spreading. Now they’re spreading across the walls.

S.O. Green

Simone Oldman Green lives in the Kingdom of Fife with husband, John. Writer, vegan, martial artist, gamer, occasionally a terrible person (but only to fictional people). They thrive on the unusual, which might explain why there are so many cats. Find them at https://thebasementoflove.blogspot.com/.

The Midnight Throne

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by Rowanne S. Carberry

 

Blood-stained lips framed by onyx hair. Her body sculpted by rubies and starlight.

The prince cannot look away.

Drawn to her by magic, they dance until the room blurs.

As midnight draws near, she leans in.

“I must leave.”

Without a thought he follows, tripping as he does, before finding her at the water’s edge, shining in the moonlight.

“Will you join me?”

Taking her offered hand, he trails into the water.

Her consort caught, they sit together on the midnight thrones of the underworld.

All that’s found of the prince on land—a bloody shoe left on the glass stairs.

 

Rowanne S. Carberry

Rowanne S. Carberry was born in England in 1990. Rowanne has various interests but has always had a passion for writing. Rowanne writes in varied genres, but her writing will often have darkness to it. This helped to coin her brand, Poisoned Quill Writing – Wicked words from a poisoned quill.

Everything You Know About Witches

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by Warren Benedetto

 

“Everything you think you know about witches is wrong,” Selena sobbed. She struggled against the ropes binding her to the pole.

Father Hugo stuffed kindling under the logs at her feet. He cocked an eyebrow skeptically. “Everything?”

“Everything,” Selena insisted.

“Brewing potions?”

“Wrong.”

“Casting spells?”

“Wrong!”

Father Hugo lit a match.

“Shapeshifting?”

Suddenly, Selena’s face elongated into a long black beak. Feathers sprouted as massive wings unfolded from her back.

Her raven form lunged, driving her beak straight through Father Hugo’s face.

As Selena returned to her human shape, she wiped the blood from her mouth.

“Okay, maybe not everything.”

Warren Benedetto

Warren Benedetto writes short fiction about horrible people doing horrible things. He has a Master’s degree in Film/TV Writing from USC. He is also the developer of StayFocusd, the world’s most popular anti-procrastination app for writers. He built it while procrastinating. 

Torches and Pitchforks

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by Raven Corinn Carluk

 

Gavin glowered at the townfolk gathered at the base of his tower. Their grumbles had grown in volume as they worked themselves into a frenzy against the wizard within.

Amazing that one escaped experiment could so quickly whip up a mob. It wasn’t like they couldn’t birth more children or rebuild houses.

Thuds sounded from the door below, shouts and cheers rising. He should have exactly enough time to utter the incantation of death and teach the peasants why they feared magic. Gavin’s frown became a wicked grin as syllables of power fell from his lips, a wicked wind whistling.

Raven Corinn Carluk

Raven Corinn Carluk writes dark fantasy, paranormal romance, and anything else that catches her interest. She has authored many novels and can be found in many anthologies. Find out more and enjoy free reads on www.RavenCorinnCarluk.Com

Redecorating Heaven

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by McKenzie Richardson

 

Merlot-hued spatters stain white feathers as I snap the final bone, hanging my newest creation up for display. These heavenly angels have gotten soft in their home of clouds, always so trusting. That was their downfall, my advantage.

I didn’t fall from Heaven—I was pushed. But I crawled my way back up.

I lick the blood from my fingers, surveying the crippled bodies that decorate greying rainclouds. I’ve won the war and earned my right to remake this world. It will be perfect, no matter how many wings I have to break to force it into my own image.

McKenzie Richardson

McKenzie Richardson lives in Milwaukee, WI. Most recently, her work has been featured in anthologies by Black Hare Press, Eerie River Publishing, and Iron Faerie Publishing. She has also published a poetry collaboration with Casey Renee Kiser, 433 Lighted Way, and her middle-grade fantasy novel, Heartstrings, is available on Amazon.