Tag Archive for: dark moments

Captain’s Justice

/by
by Melinda Pouncey

 

Captain Harrington slept with a pistol at hand for both attackers and mutineers. He ran a tight ship, which caused certain…vexations.

One night he woke to eerie silence. The door flew open and Pete Turley, the latest recipient of the captain’s justice, shambled in. Skin hung in tattered shreds from his purple-mottled body. St Elmo’s fire crackled hellishly about him and his upraised sword. Keel-hauled six days prior, he had been left suspended beneath the ship to rot. And rot he had.

“Someone’s sent me to fetch you, Cap’n,” he slurred through broken teeth. “His name is Davy Jones.”

 

Melinda Pouncey

Melinda Pouncey enjoys exploring the complexities and scope of the human imagination. She has written numerous short stories and poems in a variety of genres and most recently is focusing her attention upon horror and fantasy. Melinda has a number of drabbles in various Black Hare Press anthologies.

Price of Admission

/by
by Michelle Brett

 

“Shall you give your hand or your eye?”

There was no reply. The stowaway was too fixated on the knife at his throat. His limbs pinned to the deck by the unwashed bodies.

The pirate continued, “You do want to be one of us, don’t you?”

With widened eyes, the stowaway tried to squirm, only to force the blade deeper into his flesh. He begged, “No…”

A snort. The smell of whiskey. The pirate turned to the crowd.

“The eye it shall be.”

Cheers erupted, drowning out the stowaway’s screams. From deep inside the ship, a red hot poker emerged.

 

Michelle Brett

Michelle Brett is a New Zealand-based writer and designer. She has a Diploma in Applied Writing and is working towards a Bachelor in Communication. In her free time, she likes to question the choices of horror movie characters and report on historic crimes for a local paper.

Website: www.michellebrettbooks.com

Redbeard

/by
by Tracy Davidson

 

Redbeard chose the wrong island to plunder, his ship the first to find it in decades. No sealife swam near, no bird flew over. No human walked its streets.

Redbeard’s first mate was first to die, skin shredded by invisible talons. The second was turned inside out, intestines wrapping around a third’s neck, squeezing until it snapped.

Another disintegrated into atoms.

Redbeard’s men scattered in panic, swords raised. But blades were useless against invisible enemies.

They all fell. Until only Redbeard remained.

Unlike his men, Redbeard saw his fate. Rabid dogs feasted on his flesh.

The island vanished once more.

 

Tracy Davidson

Tracy Davidson lives in Warwickshire, England, and writes poetry and flash fiction. Her work has appeared in various publications and anthologies, including Poet’s Market, Mslexia, Atlas Poetica, Modern Haiku, The Binnacle, A Hundred Gourds, Shooter, Journey to Crone, The Great Gatsby Anthology, WAR, and In Protest: 150 Poems for Human Rights.

Execution Dock

/by
by Simon Clarke

 

Three tides washed over me before you covered me in tar.
But still I see you sail by, laughing at me in my cage above the Thames.
You see my empty eye sockets, the strips of putrefying flesh, the wind jerking my bones when there is no wind.
A final resting place?
No, I’m still here, dreaming of Port-au-Prince, my woman, and my gold.
I see you sail by, and I am laughing. Voodoo promised I would live forever, and so I am.
I drip contagion into the water you all drink—my pestilence will be in your city forever.

Simon Clarke

Simon Clarke lives and writes in Norfolk, United Kingdom. He enjoys writing poetry and fiction and has been published by Hedgehog Press, Black Hare Press, Fifty Word Stories, and Breaking Rules Publishing. He regularly submits to UK and international publications and enjoys reading poetry at open mic events. 

The Most Hated Candy

/by
by Nikki DeKeuster

 

They smashed them. All of them.

My love and devotion lay scattered across the sidewalk outside my cemetery.

One flutter of my Luna moth wings and the vandals transformed mid-stride into piles of candy corn, sprawling over the sidewalk.

Just like my darling pumpkins.

An hour later, the foul candy reverted to its original state, splattering my bucket with gore. I picked out a glob of eyeball and chewed.

Much tastier.

Screams serenaded the neighbourhood.

The trick-or-treaters would have an awful mess to clean up and perhaps a slight bellyache.

But, that was what they got for eating candy corn.

Nikki DeKeuster

Nikki DeKeuster devours souls, toying with their lives for your amusement. Reading this story makes you an accomplice to their suffering. She enjoys throwing stones into Lake Michigan with her daughter and keeping her husband up past his bedtime. Her first horror novel will rise from the Earth in 2021.

Nice Night for a Barbeque

/by
by Neen Cohen

 

Drips of fat dropped through the barbeque grill and sent flames up into the darkening sky.

“Here you go, mate.” James stepped onto the patio and handed Mike a cool beer.

“Dinner won’t be long.” The plate hissed as James put onion on to fry.

“I’ll go tell the girls.” Mike disappeared inside the house again.

James opened the Tupperware container and gripped the delicate wings between thumb and forefinger.

The fairy’s scream sounded like tinkling glass windchimes as he pulled the sheer material from the body.

She sizzled as she landed on the grill beside her sisters’ unrecognisable bodies.

 

Neen Cohen

Neen Cohen is an LGBTQI and speculative fiction author. She’s been published in over a dozen anthologies and is a member of the Springfield Writers Group. Neen loves roaming cemeteries, gardens, and construction sites. She can often be found writing against a tree or tombstone.
Linktree: @neencohen

Faerie Things

/by
by Chris Hewitt

 

Tucked off the main thoroughfare, Faerie Things boasted an extensive range of fae ingredients for the magical connoisseur. The soft tinkle of bells announced Peri’s arrival.

“Can I help?” asked the rotund proprietor.

“Do you have any Faerie wings,” Peri whispered.

The shopkeeper licked his lips and locked the door. “What’re you after?”

“Do you have any silver sprite?”

“As it happens, I do. Fresh in this morning.” The shopkeeper grinned, rummaged behind the counter and produced two tiny iridescent wings—their bloody stumps confirmed Peri’s worst fears.

“Sister!” she cried, her illusion failing as anger took over.

 

Chris Hewitt

Chris resides in the beautiful garden of England, Kent, UK, and in the odd moments that he isn’t dog walking, he pursues his passion for all things horror, fantasy, and science fiction.

Hunting Fae

/by
by Karen Bayly

 

She watched from the alley, green eyes burning phosphorescent. Tonight, she would snag one, imprison it. Maybe she’d free it—eventually. Most likely she would torture, then kill it.

Once, the hunting was easier; lay a trap in the forest deep, and return at her leisure. These days, she relied on stealth and dark places.

Thank the goddess, only halflings believed in faeries anymore. Her sport was so much easier. All gossamer wings and wickedness, she could wrap any purebred prey in a spell a blink of an eye.

Here’s one now! Male. Intoxicated. 100% human. Her favourite kind.

 

Karen Bayly

Karen Bayly is a writer, software tester, and author of the steampunk novel Fortitude. Her PhD in biology and research background both inform her writing, a fusion of science fiction and horror with traditional fantasy. She lives in Sydney, Australia, with two cats, a guitar, and a ukulele.

 

The Awakening

/by
by Eddie D. Moore

 

Reed couldn’t believe how small his hands were as he dug and dug. Hours passed and his fingers were bleeding when he finally emerged into the night air. He softly read aloud the name written on the granite stone before him: “Reed Gormley.”

Reed felt his wings spread out as he watched others flit to and fro above his head. It appeared that the legend was true and that we all lived on in a new form after death.

A wicked smile exposed tiny sharp teeth as he took to the air and growled, “You all should’ve treated me better.”

Eddie D. Moore

When Eddie D. Moore isn’t playing with his grandchildren, he is driving and visiting strange new worlds via audiobooks, or he is lost in his imagination writing his own tales. Pick up a copy of Poe-ish Tales Forevermore today! You’ll be glad you did if you can sleep tonight.

Faerie Etiquette

/by
by Jacqueline Moran Meyer

 

“Stop,” I yelled, too late. My fiancé had already plopped the lavender cake in his mouth. By the time I reached him, the Faerie had disappeared. I had schooled him on Faerie etiquette ad nauseum. Do not accept gifts.

“Didn’t you notice her pointed ears, glimmering skin?”

“Yum,” he mumbled.

“Did you say thank you?” I asked, my tone grim. His answer would decide our future together.

“Yep.”

Distraught, I handed back his ring and walked away.

Saying thank you to a Faerie resulted in her taking your firstborn.

I discovered my pregnancy that morning.

Where could I hide from the Faerie?

 

Jacqueline Moran Meyer

Jacqueline Moran Meyer is a writer, artist, and small business owner living in New York, where she received her master’s degree from Teachers College, Columbia University. Jacqueline loves the science fiction and horror genres. Ray Bradbury, Alice Munro, and Rod Serling were great influences. Jacqueline also enjoys the company of her husband Bruce and their three children Julia, Emma, and Lauren. 
Website: jmoranmeyer.net