Carrion Archives - Black Hare Press

by Liam Hogan

The goddess turned, restless in her slumber as warm blood soaked the cold, dark soil. The affairs of men, best left to the crows.

Something sharp, insistent. A sacrifice, the battle hanging in the balance. A child. Children grew into adults no less unworthy than their parents. But a sacrifice in her name?

It would be rude not to.

Wings black and terrible she rose, drawing blood from both armies, from living and dead, quenching ancient hunger.

Sated, the goddess slept again beneath her silent battlefield. For how long, none could say. But she knew there would be other wars.

Liam Hogan

Liam Hogan is an award-winning short story writer. He’s been published by Analog, Daily Science Fiction, and Flame Tree Press, among others. He helps host Liars’ League London, volunteers at the creative writing charity Ministry of Stories, and lives and avoids work in London. More details at http://happyendingnotguaranteed.blogspot.co.uk

by Rich Rurshell

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me, four colly birds…

If true, then Mother Nature is my true love. I won’t argue with that. I always loved nature.

I’m not sure why I stayed here. Leaving doesn’t seem appropriate.

Not while I’m like this.

These carrion crows are the only living things to have paid me any attention. If I can still call this me. A lifeless corpse staring into the winter sky from this ditch.

Just days ago, I was eating turkey. Now the birds feast on me. Nature’s way of redressing the balance.

Rich Rurshell

Rich Rurshell is a writer of horror, fantasy, and science fiction. From his home in Suffolk, England, Rich likes to ponder the existence of the sinister, the fantastic, and the downright terrifying. He likes to explore the darker side of life and what lies within us and celebrate the beauty in the world and what lies beyond.
Facebook: @RichRurshellAuthor

Tag Archive for: Carrion

Carrion

by Liam Hogan

The goddess turned, restless in her slumber as warm blood soaked the cold, dark soil. The affairs of men, best left to the crows.

Something sharp, insistent. A sacrifice, the battle hanging in the balance. A child. Children grew into adults no less unworthy than their parents. But a sacrifice in her name?

It would be rude not to.

Wings black and terrible she rose, drawing blood from both armies, from living and dead, quenching ancient hunger.

Sated, the goddess slept again beneath her silent battlefield. For how long, none could say. But she knew there would be other wars.

Liam Hogan

Carrion

by Rich Rurshell

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me, four colly birds…

If true, then Mother Nature is my true love. I won’t argue with that. I always loved nature.

I’m not sure why I stayed here. Leaving doesn’t seem appropriate.

Not while I’m like this.

**These carrion crows are the only living things to have paid me any attention. If I can still call this me. A lifeless corpse staring into the winter sky from this ditch.**

Just days ago, I was eating turkey. Now the birds feast on me. Nature’s way of redressing the balance.