Tag Archive for: Blaise Langlois

Revenge

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by Blaise Langlois

 

There was only one way to do it, and they had to be quick. Rats were always more intelligent than humans gave them credit for, and now they had become extra clever. Trying to avoid the farmer’s tricks wasn’t a game—it was a matter of survival, and one too many of their comrades had fallen.

Unable to lift the box from the shed, they had gingerly carried the pellets one by one to the edge of the well. As each rat dropped a pellet of warfarin into the water, they dreamed about the green death that awaited the farmer.

Blaise Langlois

Emerging author, Blaise Langlois, will never turn down the chance to tell a creepy story. You are sure to find her writing in between teaching and raising four beautiful children, or feverishly scratching out ideas (which to the chagrin of her supportive husband, usually occurs just after midnight).

Website: ravenfictionca.wordpress.com

 

Clowning Around

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by Blaise Langlois

 

I had been in the tent for most of the afternoon, sticky from the August heat. So far, most of the applicants had been rather underwhelming.

Just then, an awkward looking figure lifted the tent flap and strode over, his oversized black shoes squeaking as he moved. I indicated toward the empty seat in front of me.

His face paint was traditional, and a frown replaced the typical goofy grin—something that just wouldn’t do.

“Could you smile for me, please?” I sighed.

The clown’s red lips peeled back to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth.

“You’re hired,” I told him.

Blaise Langlois

Emerging author, Blaise Langlois, will never turn down the chance to tell a creepy story. You are sure to find her writing in between teaching and raising four beautiful children, or feverishly scratching out ideas (which to the chagrin of her supportive husband, usually occurs just after midnight).

Website: ravenfictionca.wordpress.com

 

Daddy’s Little Girl

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by Blaise Langlois

 

The note, propped up against a plate of cookies, read: For Santa. No persuasion was required—St Nick had come to expect such delicacies. After washing down the treats with a tall glass of milk, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He considered the remaining crumbs but doubled over in agony, as a searing pain tore through his abdomen. A foul stench erupted from him and he projectile vomited, covering himself and the floor in Christmas red. Behind the chair, the young girl smiled as “I Caught Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” played softly in the background.

Blaise Langlois

Emerging author, Blaise Langlois, will never turn down the chance to tell a creepy story. You are sure to find her writing in between teaching and raising four beautiful children, or feverishly scratching out ideas (which to the chagrin of her supportive husband, usually occurs just after midnight).

 

One More for the Road

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by Blaise Langlois

 

Route 37 at night is a lonely stretch. My eyelids feel the weight of sleep, but the next exit promises 24-hour coffee.

The car lot, bathed in a sick, yellow light, is practically deserted. I order a coffee and venture round back to use the restroom, but a foul smell makes my eyes water, giving me second thoughts. Flies buzz, insistent, drawing my gaze to where a trailer stands, rear doors ajar. Something oily and slick in the moonlight, pools on the asphalt beneath. Heavy hands grasp my shoulders.

“Always room for one more,” a thick voice whispers from behind.

Blaise Langlois

Emerging author, Blaise Langlois, will never turn down the chance to tell a creepy story around the campfire. She has a penchant for horror, with published fiction and poetry through Eerie River Publishing, Pulp Factory E-zine, Ghost Orchid Press, Space and Time Magazine and Black Hare Press. Learn more at: www.ravenfictionca.wordpress.com

YEAR THREE

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YEAR FOUR

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