Tag Archive for: Reflections

Carnal Distractions

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by Jeff Currier

Straddling Victor’s chiselled chest, Tiffany languidly tapped the remote. Usually, she toyed with prey longer. Built their amorous anticipation to bursting before sating herself. But Victor’s lustful aura felt bottomless.

The canopy retracted, uncovering myriad angled mirrors. How men loved watching their endless reflections taking her. Their self-absorption let her lock succubus lips and suck them dry.

But Victor had eyes only for her.

Confused, Tiffany glanced upwards. Her countless reflections stared back, bed otherwise empty. I feel him beneath me!

Fangs pierced her neck. A whisper caressed her mind.

“I commend your diet, darling. Your blood tastes absolutely exquisite.”

Jeff Currier

Jeff writes little stories. Find more @jffcurrier on X or Jeff Currier Writes on Facebook.

 

 

A Disappearing

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by Salena Casha

At twenty, she shaved her head to see what he might have looked like; her mother had wondered about the same aloud when she thought Marissa couldn’t hear. Her transformation gave him substance, no longer just a ball of hair and fingernails she’d swallowed whole in the womb. Penitential, living for him this way. Mostly, she liked the way her mother’s fingers feathered over her scalp, whispering Martin into her stubble like an incantation.

Each day, he chose new favourite teas and avoided mirrors, burying her deep. After all, he told himself; he wasn’t the one who’d eaten someone alive.

Salena Casha

Salena Casha’s work has appeared in over 100 publications in the last decade. She survives New England winters on good beer and black coffee. Subscribe to her substack at:

Website: salenacasha.substack.com

 

eiD ot emiT

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by Liam Hogan

Timing was everything, the difference between life and a messy death. I huddled by the abandoned car, peering into the shattered wing mirror. The shadow advancing down the darkened alley made me want to flee, but that would have been a fatal mistake. I clutched the shotgun, useless until the phantasm coalesced, taking solid form, ready to strike. Which it wouldn’t do if I stared at it directly.

Almost time…almost—

An inescapable iron grip on my shoulder, cruel fangs at my neck… The the last thing I saw was the mocking warning:

Objects in mirror are closer than they appear.

Liam Hogan

Liam Hogan is an award-winning short story writer, who dabbles in drabbles.

Website: http://happyendingnotguaranteed.blogspot.co.uk

Reflections

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by Lynne Lumsden Green

 

My friend Ben and I loved jumping in puddles; our mothers despaired of our damp and muddy clothes. One day, Ben jumped into a puddle on the footpath and sank up to his armpits.

“Help me,” he screamed. “Something is pulling me down.”

I grabbed at his hand, but I was too late. He disappeared into its depths. I ran for help, but no one believed me. Later that day, when the puddle dried up, it revealed no pit. Just ordinary footpath.

Now days, I don’t jump into puddles. I gaze into them, looking for Ben. I haven’t found him.

 

Lynne Lumsden Green

Lynne Lumsden Green has twin bachelor degrees in both Science and the Arts, giving her the balance between rationality and creativity. She spent fifteen years as the Science Queen for HarperCollins Voyager Online and has written science articles for other online magazines. Currently, she captains the Writing Race for the Australian Writers Marketplace on Facebook. She has had speculative fiction flash fiction and short stories published in anthologies and websites. You can find her blog at: https://cogpunksteamscribe.wordpress.com/ Twitter.