Tag Archive for: dark moments

The Old Switcheroo

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by Steven Holding

 

All it took was one look at her hook nose and Danny knew that his granny was a witch.

A familiar black cat, dark pointy hat, although her number of nipples remained firmly under wraps, despite Danny lurking on the landing at bath time, desperate to administer a dunking.

He took no risks, smashing his eggshells at breakfast, stopping her from setting sail upon the seven seas, sinking fleets using sorcery.

Granny was suitably distressed.

“Don’t you love me?” she pleaded. “Warts and all?”

“Oh, Nanna!” sighed Danny.

She hugged him.

Then bunged the little bastard straight in her oven.

Steven Holding

Steven Holding lives in the United Kingdom. His work has appeared both online and in print. Most recently, his piece Route Thirty-Three won the 2019 H.E. Bates Short Story Prize award for best story from a Northamptonshire-based writer. You can follow his work at www.stevenholding.co.uk.

A Romance in Dunwich

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by V.A. Vazquez

 

There weren’t many eligible bachelors in Dunwich, but even then, all the women stayed away from Wilbur Whateley. His beard was coarse and knotted, like the hide of a mountain goat, and he smelled like cracked eggs that’d gone off.

“Disgusting,” my sister would say, turning away to avoid his stare. He had to crouch down to shuffle through the bakery door, his woollen coat dragging on the cobblestones behind him.

I never turned away; I never refused to meet his eyes. Not the ones on his face and not the ones nestled in the crevices of his hips either.

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

Elspeth

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by Jacqueline Moran Meyer

 

Elspeth haunts me. At night, I hear her ankle chains scrape along the floorboards towards the bedroom I share with my new bride. She’s getting closer, with her bloated body now splattering water on the rug around our bed. Last night, I took to drink in the hope of not remembering her visit. This morning my new love lay dead beside me; wet footsteps led to her side of the bed. I may have married Elspeth for her money and not defended her when accused of sorcery, but never had I suspected her of truly being a witch—until now.

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 science fiction and horror genres. Reading Ray Bradbury was a mind-blowing experience for her in eighth grade. 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. Jacqueline’s mantra is “The only time it’s too late to try something new is when you are dead.”
Website: jmoranmeyer.net

Whitechapel Rain

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by Matthew Wilson

 

I have had dark moments since I escaped that hospital filled with fools who didn’t grasp my greatness, so I had to burn them.

I wished to run into the light, but Whitechapel only has darkness and more laughing women who do not appreciate me.

The doctors I burned? I have murdered for necessities—like clothes—borrowed a dead man’s name, but still my head is filled with horrid thoughts.

But I will prove those dead doctors wrong, I will try to be human, something free and undeserving of cages.

Gentleman Jack, even if I do have frequent dark moments.

Matthew Wilson

Matthew Wilson has been published over 200 times in such places as Horror Zine, Star*Line, Zimbell House Publishing, and many more. He is currently editing his first novel.

Midnight at the Gallows

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by McKenzie Richardson

 

The corpse swings on its rope when my fingers wrap around its wrist. Tendons and muscles fray as I sever the flesh. Cracking bones, I saw through until the hand falls into my grasp.

Before dissolving into the darkness, reeking of congealing blood, I collect slabs of fat from the murderer’s torso for a candle, a hair from his head to serve as its wick. Placed in the Hand of Glory, it will grant me powers unimaginable with which to exact my revenge.

They thought to burn my kind. They are not the only ones who can play with fire.

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.

Author’s Lament

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by K.T. Tate

 

I just wanted a muse. Something unusual to fuel my writing. But that dusty tome with its ancient rites gave me more than that.

It was not a muse summoned there, but a thing. Indescribable, even to a seasoned author in its unique horror. Stars burned and died within its shifting form. Its eyeless gaze burned through me, tarnishing me from the inside as I wept. The safe illusion of reality shattered.

Now it fills my mind. Taking up space, forcing me to write its heresy. My words spreading its gospel of madness. Please, I can’t stop myself, I can’t…

K.T. Tate

K.T. Tate is an English author inspired to write speculative fiction. She draws on her love of horror to explore the themes of cosmic and occult horror, the supernatural, folktales, and witchcraft. Writing mainly drabbles and short stories, her works have been featured in a plethora of anthologies.

Madeline

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by Joshua Gessner

 

I see a girl, hidden behind a curtain of trees, with poisoned lips and rotten teeth. Somewhere, in the pit of her, her heart is just as rotten. I believe if you slit her open, maggots and soot would be all you’d find. There is a shadow of her before she changed, signing her soul in the big black book. Yet that is all we know, the memory of her. For now, she is claimed by the unholy. She is his servant. A witch. I feel her name upon my own lips now. It stings, like a rose’s thorn. Madeline.

Joshua Gessner

 Joshua Gessner is a full-time college student and lives with his family at his home in Manchester, New Hampshire. He is a lover of a variety of genres, both when reading and when writing. He is also a lover of all movies and hopes to someday be a full-time author.

A Successful Exorcism

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by Celestine Trinidad

 

Father Fernando kept on chanting prayers, ignoring the screams of the demon that possessed the boy.

“You don’t know what this child is!” the demon shrieked. “Without me here to stop him, he’ll—”

“I cast thee out!”

A final scream, and then, silence.

“He’s gone,” Father Fernando said. “Niño is safe, now.”

Three days later, the Santos family was found in their home, all murdered, except for their youngest, Niño, who had gone missing.

That night, during his evening prayers, Father Fernando felt someone watching him. Waiting.
When he turned, Niño grinned at him, moonlight glinting off his knife.

 

Celestine Trinidad

Celestine Trinidad is a licensed physician (particularly a pathologist) based in the Philippines. In her spare time, she writes fiction of different genres, including speculative fiction. Some of her other stories have been published in other print and online venues, such as The Digest of Philippine Genre Stories and Insignia.
Website: celestinetrinidad.wordpress.com/http://bit.ly/celestinetrinidad

We Can Only Fall

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by Callum Pearce

 

Swept down from heaven on the wind of Satan’s expulsion. My crime—merely witnessing dissent. I hurtled towards this filthy rock as flames ripped through my wings. In heaven, there was no pain. Now, every newly awakened nerve screams at me constantly.

They scream too, those creatures he loves so much. They howl and struggle as my knife rips through their flesh. They don’t understand my gift to them. That which I am forever denied. I return them to the painless place, free them from the misery that I must endure. His children are always rising, angels can only fall.

 

Callum Pearce

Callum Pearce is a Dutch storyteller, originally from Liverpool. A fiction writer published multiple times across a variety of platforms. Lover of the magical as well as the macabre. He lives in a foggy old fishing town in the Netherlands with his husband and a couple of cat-shaped sprites.

twitter.com/Aladdinsane79

The Devourer

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by Warren Benedetto

 

Maslowe stood absolutely still. Warm, rancid breath caressed the back of his neck.

It had come for him.

Abholos.

The Devourer.

Mist swirled around the thing, enshrouding it like unholy vestments. It was shapeless. Formless. An undulating mass devoid of features, save for a terrible maw. Its blackened lips parted to reveal crystalline teeth, curved icicles dripping with long, elastic drops of clear ooze.

What escaped from its mouth was not sound, but the absence of sound. A silence so ageless and infinite that Maslowe felt his sanity slipping away.

“Why me?” Maslowe whispered.

“Because you exist,” the Devourer said.

 

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.