Tag Archive for: dark moments

Time to Retreat

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by Gabriella Balcom

 

As Pam picked a dahlia, something jabbed her finger. She was perplexed to discover a thorn—dahlias weren’t supposed to have any.

Not wanting to be gouged again, she tried to snip off the thorn with her clippers, but the plant pulled away. Pam frowned and figured she must’ve imagined the movement. She firmly grasped the stalk to try again, but it unexpectedly lashed out at her and scratched her cheek. She gasped, her mouth falling open. Then she fled.

***

The plant made a snorting sound, retracted the thorn into its stem, then slid out of sight behind other dahlias.

 

Gabriella Balcom

Gabriella Balcom, who is from Texas, writes fantasy, horror/thriller, romance, sci-fi, and more. She likes traveling, music, photography, great stories, history, and movies. Gabriella says she loves forests, mountains, and back roads. She has a weakness for lasagna, garlic bread, tacos, cheese, and chocolate. Check out her author page on FACEBOOK

 

The Gun

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by James WF Roberts

 

The gun on the table mocks me. It calls to me. It knows me. It knows my secrets. It knows everything I’ve done.  This dormant metal god, looks at me. “Do it. Do it. End it now. End it all. Put my cold metal shaft between your lips.  Embrace bliss”.

The easy way out?  To blow the back of my head out? To eat lead? What would they say about me? Coward? This proves my guilt?  I know what the whole world thinks of me now. Would it just prove them all right?  It calls again. My hand reaches out.

 

James WF Roberts

James has recently completed two consecutive Masters from Monash University Australia, Journalism and Communications and Media studies. James has a BA Honours in philosophy and literature and has been published in over a dozen magazines and journals around the world and has published several of his own poetry collections.

Find James on Amazon: www.amazon.com/James-Wf-Roberts/e/B00DP01IBC

 

Inheritance

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by Charlotte O’Farrell

 

All my life, Uncle Harry’s name was spoken with a pitying hush. “He never recovered from his son’s disappearance.”

He lived thirty years after my cousin vanished. Harry was never at family events. Maybe he avoided them, maybe he wasn’t invited at all. People think grief and tragedy are contagious.

He left me his house, surprisingly. I was thrilled. His garden would be perfect for my dog, Fluffy.

The first day there, Fluffy dug for hours.

I called him in at sunset. He emerged from the flower patch with a tibia in his jaws. Degraded, child-sized bones littered the garden.

 

Charlotte O’Farrell

Charlotte O’Farrell writes horror and all manner of the weird and wonderful. Her work has appeared on the Horror Tree, the Drabble and the Rock N’ Roll Horror Zine, among others. You can find her on Twitter @ChaOFarrell or Facebook AuthorCharlotteOFarrell.

 

Aberrant Foliation

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by Dennis Mombauer

 

The train stopped. Sanesh awoke with a start. His own reflection stared at him from the window. Blackest night reigned outside, and the jungle brushed against the carriage.

“What is going on?” The compartment was abandoned. The ceiling lamps flickered.

Someone knocked on the door, and the metal shuddered. Sanesh turned and found his reflection gone, the window just a square of empty darkness.

Another knock.

“Who is there?”

Sanesh inched closer. The handle moved, the door swung open.

As the train accelerated again, Sanesh awoke with a start: and from within the window, he stared at his own reflection.

 

Dennis Mombauer

Dennis Mombauer currently lives in Colombo as a freelance researcher and writer of speculative fiction, textual experiments, and poetry. He is co-publisher of a German magazine for experimental fiction and has published fiction and non-fiction in various magazines and anthologies. His first English novel, “The Fertile Clay,” will be published by Nightscape Press in late 2019.
Homepage: www.dennismombauer.com

Darkness Falls

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by Kim Plasket

 

Darkness falls across a sea of blood. Closing eyes to the horror of the day, demons scurry in fear as the killer starts to draw near. Hellfire and insanity are not far behind.

You think you can survive until the day draws to a close, then you realise it will only get worse as the day ends.  Your only hope is to die quickly.

Your open grave waits for you to climb into its cold embrace, you know the killer waits for you somewhere. Stepping into your grave, you find him there waiting, sharp knife ready to end your suffering.

 

Kim Plasket

Kim Plasket is a Jersey girl at heart relocated to sunny Florida. She enjoys writing horror and paranormal stories. She lives with her husband and 2 kids. When she is not slaving away at her day job, she can be found drinking coffee and planning the demise of some poor character. Find her on Amazon : .www.amazon.com/-/e/B074YCLRCF

A New Mourning

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by Kevin Hopson

 

Michael knew of the man. He visited during times of grief and immense heartache, offering the same thing to everyone. An opportunity to be permanently reunited with a lost loved one. But it came with a steep price. Someone close to Michael had to be sacrificed. One life for another.

“I can’t do it,” Michael said, shaking his head. “As much as I miss my father, I love my wife and son more than anything. I can’t risk losing either one of them.”

“That’s why I’m here,” the man said.

Michael swallowed. “I don’t understand.”

“There’s been a terrible accident.”

 

Kevin Hopson

Kevin’s writing covers many genres, including dark fiction and horror, science fiction and fantasy, and crime fiction. His website can be found at www.kmhopson.com.

Treasure Hunt

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by Holly Schofield

 

The penthouse door shut behind Clive.

Mike scowled at his back. Weenie. Next-door neighbours as children, Clive had deserved whatever Mike had dished out to him. Now, Mike had convinced Clive to let him sleep on the sofa until he got back on his feet.

Mike munched Camembert, hunted through drawers, stuffed his backpack with cash, a Rolex, and a Nikon camera.

What about Clive’s childhood treasures? That baseball card collection should be worth a lot now.

Mike fished an arm below the bed.

Clive’s childhood monster had waited fifteen years for this moment.

Teeth bit and pulled Mike in.

 

Holly Schofield

Holly Schofield’s stories have appeared in Analog, Lightspeed, Escape Pod, and many other publications throughout the world. You can find her at hollyschofield.wordpress.com.

All the Little Vampires

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by Gregory L. Norris

 

While the family slept, all the little vampires fed.

The laptop, whose battery no longer held its charge, sipped wall current. No less greedy were the phones and tablets plugged into sockets and quietly slurping. The microwave and stove tolled the hours in digital numbers, as did cable boxes. Modems and routers hummed, their readouts showing they, too, were feasting well, as spelled out by blue or green diodes glowing in their dark corners. Flat-screen TVs were off in every room, though not really, according to their little tell-tales, red like blood.

And then the electricity bill arrived—the horror!

 

Gregory L. Norris

Gregory L. Norris is a full-time professional writer, with work in national magazines, fiction anthologies, novels, the occasional TV episode, and, so far, one produced feature film. He has just returned from one of the best writing symposiums in history and got a request for my epic SF novel GRAVE SPACE from an agent and the top SF editor at Tor Books, both of whom loved what he’s done.

Follow his literary adventures at www.gregorylnorris.blogspot.com.

Rags and Bones

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by Carys Crossen

 

The villagers decided she was a witch. They exiled her to the desert, to die of heat exhaustion or go mad of thirst.

She did neither.

She made a scarecrow, constructed it out of rags and bone. She placed it near a trading route, and waited.

In verdant lands, a scarecrow repels. In this desolation, it did the opposite. Birds, travellers, stray children flocked to it, for water, for succour, for company.

She feasted like a queen on the flesh of lost things. Blood could quench any thirst. Their bones and clothes she hoarded.

Soon, another scarecrow joined the first.

 

Carys Crossen

Carys Crossen has been writing stories since she was nine years old but only recently discovered drabbles. Her fiction has been published by Mother’s Milk Books, Dear Damsels, Three Drops Press, Blink Ink, Paragraph Planet, The First Line journal and others. She lives in Manchester UK with her husband.

You can keep up to date with Carys on Twitter @academicwannabe

 

The Capital D

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by A.L. King

 

I’ve seen Death. That’s with a capital D.

I mostly spotted him by the hospital, located conveniently beside a senior care facility (makes for a short commute, I guess). Any time he started looking my way, I would quickly turn my head. I wish I could say I’ve always averted his gaze, but I know otherwise.

I’ve seen Death. In fact, I see him now. He’s standing outside the window of my classroom, staring at me and the other students.

The bell rings a dirge, and then—gunfire.

The smile on Death’s face grows. I know he loves his job.

 

A.L. King

A.L. King is an author of horror, fantasy, science fiction, and poetry. As an avid fan of dark subjects from an early age, his first influences included R.L. Stine, Edgar Allan Poe, and Stephen King. Later stylistic inspirations came from foreign horror films and media, particularly Japanese.

He is a graduate of West Liberty University, has dabbled in journalism, and is actively involved in his community. Although his creativity leans toward darker genres, he has even written a children’s book titled “Leif’s First Fall.”

He was raised in the town of Sistersville, West Virginia, which he still proudly calls home.