What Lives Inside

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by Taryn George

 

From underneath my desk, I watched through the slit in the wood as the body on the embalming table shifted. My eyes focused on the corpse’s head, where I’d found it.

The sound of a zip slowly being undone echoed through the quiet room and I watched as the dead woman’s face began to come apart as whatever was inside reached its fingers through the gap and began to push the zip further open.

I covered my mouth, trembling as it began to pull itself out, limb by limb from its host, when it slowly turned to stare at me

Taryn George

Writing from a small town in England, Taryn can often be found in the company of her cat – Jason. You’ll likely find her sitting at her window seat and writing nothing but nightmare fuel to keep people checking in their closets for the boogeyman.

 

 

The Manicure

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by Chad Miller

 

Unzip. Zip.

The sound made me nauseous. His leather pouch was displayed in the middle of the table like a prize. My whole body shook. I was going to vomit.

Unzip. Zip.

He smiled, displaying his yellow, tobacco-stained teeth. “Are you ready to talk?”

It took courage. I know what my action would mean. I shook my head.

Unzip. Zip.

“This only provides more fun for me.” He chuckled.

Unzip.

He dumped the contents of the pouch on the table. Three decaying fingers rolled out.

I gazed at my stumps. Only two fingers left. He flashed the pliers.

Snip. Snip.

Chad Miller

Chad Miller is a pharmacist and lives in lifeless Delaware with his girlfriend, Natasha, and her daughter Sasha, and his three children. His novel, The Prisoner of Fear, will be out 10/2022. 

Check out other stories on his website, chadmiller-author.com.

 

 

Opening Teeth

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by Andrew Jackson

 

Zip.

Some sounds a human should never hear.

It started so small—just a tiny hole in the air, like a busted seam. But it doubles in size each day, and with it comes that awful screeching of colossal teeth grinding along interdimensional fault lines.

I know I can’t contain it. I only boarded up the closet because soon it’ll be wide enough for those things to climb through.  

It’s easier just to lie here, pretending I can’t hear the little world growing. Hear those grinding teeth, those scuttling claws, those whispered not-words. I can almost do it. Almost.

Zip

Andrew Jackson

Andrew Jackson is a science fiction, thriller, and horror writer based in Surrey, England. He grew up on Star Trek, Alien, and videogames he was too young to play. His debut sci-fi novel is in progress.
Instagram: @authorandrewjackson

 

Full Moon Night

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by Andrew Hughes

 

“They’re here,” the dishevelled man howls. “They’re inside the hospital!”

“Jesus,” says the nurse. “The full moon brings the loons.”

“He’s scaring the other patients,” Dr McDonald says, snapping at an orderly. “Take him to psych.”

With security’s help, the orderly straps the man to the stretcher and wheels it into the elevator.

The man thrashes. “They’re here!”

“Shhh,” the orderly says. “I’m getting you help.”

The elevator doors slide open to a basement hallway.

Ahead is a sign for the boiler room.

The man looks up as the orderly’s face unzips; the skin peeling away to a grinning snout.

Andrew Hughes

Andrew has been writing and publishing short stories for the past decade. Most recently, his story The Cellar appeared on the NoSleep Podcast. He currently lives in Arizona, working as a teacher, and taking care of the world’s most adorable white husky.

 

Becoming

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by Lena Ng

 

Sundown and my favourite time of day was fast-approaching. The darkness of evening where I could finally be myself. I was tired of pretending, smiling fake smiles, repressing my violent thoughts, hiding my true nature. Clacking away at a keyboard for eight hours until the workday was over and the time was right. Soon my brethren would join me. In the blackness of my rat’s nest apartment, I unzipped my skin and stepped out, leaving the greasy, pink-coloured flesh on the floor. I stretched my arthropod legs and clacked my mandibles. I looked forward to feasting well into the night.

Lena Ng

Lena Ng lives in Toronto, Canada. She has short stories in seventy publications including Amazing Stories and the anthology We Shall Be Monsters, which was a finalist for the 2019 Prix Aurora Award. “Under an Autumn Moon” is her short story collection.

 

When the Zips Come A-Calling

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by LJ McLeod

 

Once a month, when the moon was dark, the Zips would come trawling for new skins. Those who lived on the streets scarred their skin and covered themselves in filth. The Zips were very particular. They preferred fresh meat, before track marks and deprivation marred the flesh.

Tonight, a new girl worked the corner. Nobody warned her—better her than them. A Zip cornered her, pulling at its zipper. Its face split in two, revealing jagged darkness. The girl screamed. Darkness surged down her throat and began eating away the unnecessary insides.

Next month a new Zip would come a-calling.

LJ McLeod

LJ McLeod lives in Queensland, Australia. She works in Pathology and writes in her spare time. She has been published in several anthologies and has been nominated twice for the Aurealis Award.  In her spare time she enjoys diving, reading and travelling.  

 

Getting Ready

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by Matt Krizan

 

Tara loves when Andrew zips her up.

He takes his time, caressing her neck and shoulder with his free hand. His kisses linger, and he nibbles her ear, leaving her trembling in anticipation.

When he’s finished, Tara inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of her own perfume—lavender and orange blossom and musk—mingling with the lingering odour of formaldehyde and rot.

Her friends don’t get it. They can’t understand how she can date someone who works in a morgue.

“If only they knew,” she thinks.

Tara moans as Andrew touches her through the thick plastic of the body bag.

Matt Krizan

Matt Krizan is a former certified public accountant who writes from his home in Royal Oak, Michigan. His short fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in various publications, including Daily Science Fiction, Martian Magazine, and, previously, in Dark Moments. Find him online at mattkrizan.com and on Twitter as @MattKrizan.

 

The Harvester

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by Alison Kaiser

 

There’s a zipper at the back of my throat. It doesn’t have a toggle or a head. When the night air feels like static and I can’t move, I know he’s coming.

He hums as he sets down his satchel. Steel clinks as he rummages. He fits an instrument around my jaw and cranks.

 He works the zipper with a needle—parts it tooth by tooth.

“Bountiful harvest,” he says, right before he reaches inside. He tears out what he wants, then covers my eyes. I never know just what it is that’s being taken.

Alison Kaiser

Alison Kaiser is a former associate editor of Mudfish. Her work has appeared in Skidrow Penthouse, Free Radicals, and The Chamber Magazine, as well as other literary journals and anthologies. She lives with her husband and son in Brooklyn.

 

The Black Bag of Fun

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by Tim Law

 

Zip goes the black sports bag, the sound makes me smile. The zipper once had a brand name but now only the “N” and “I” remain. In my line of work, sometimes you need to zip up in a hurry.

I open the bag lovingly. I know each tool homed within, simple, yet sinister every one. I unpack; holding the bicycle spoke to the light, then the hacksaw, the claw hammer, toothbrush with all but four bristles removed. As each item is displayed, I hear a whimper come from my captive.

“Are you ready to play?” I ask. “I am.”

Tim Law

Tim Law heralds from a little town in Southern Australia called Murray Bridge. A happily married father of three, family is very important to him. He works at the local library, surrounded by so many wonderful stories he’s constantly inspired to write.

His general musings can be found at somecallmetimmy.blogspot.com.au/

 

Dusty

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by Shaun Bibo

 

“Please,” James said, hitting the cloth above his face again. “It’s too dark.”

The cloth unzipped down the middle, revealing a woman’s curious face. She pressed her slipping glasses back up her nose. The man breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you. Where am I? What happened?”

“This one’s still alive,” she said casually.

“Not according to our list,” said a man’s voice. “Dusty Jackson, deceased. To be cremated.”

James remembered his dealer asking for a favour. James panicked. “No, there’s been a mistake! I’m not Dusty!”

“You will be soon,” said the woman as she zipped the bag shut.

Shaun Bibo

Business Analyst by day, writer by night, weekend, lunch breaks, or whenever time allows. Father of two, so less time than ever, but in the best possible way. Surviving the cold Minnesota winters to embrace the magnificent summers.