Tag Archive for: Weird Wilkins

The Doctor Will Be With You Shortly

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by Weird Wilkins

The gas has done its job. You lie there barely awake, the pain in your teeth has numbed, from agony to a dull ache.

You lie there on the chair, dreading what comes next, your drooling mouth held agape by metal and perspex.

It’s then that you spot it, hardly a spec to your blurred eyes, something dark on the ceiling, something that likes to eat flies.

You try to jerk away, to close your mouth and run, but the gas has done its job so well, you can barely twitch your thumb.

And on a thread… Here it comes…

Weird Wilkins

Hailing from the deepest, darkest pits of England, Weird Wilkins is a fresh-faced writer and lifelong horror fanatic. He writes firmly in the “weird fiction” sub-genre and has a particular passion for folklore, the supernatural and healthy lashings of body horror.

Facebook: @weirdwilkins

The Look

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by Weird Wilkins

As a child, I always feared the picture my mother kept by her bedside. I never understood why she would frame an image of such a grotesque monster. It looked like a man deformed in ways I can barely fathom. Those bulging eyes, skin so pallid it was translucent, sunken cheeks and swollen lips.

“He didn’t always look that way.” She’d tell me, but I didn’t believe her. How could a man become something so haunting?

It’s a question I never wanted answered, yet the answer becomes clearer every day.

I really am starting to resemble my dear old dad…

Weird Wilkins

Weird Wilkins is long-time writing enthusiast taking the terrifying plunge into the world of actually submitting work for publication. He’s rooted firmly in the “weird fiction” subgenre of horror with a particular passion for stories revolving around a mounting sense of dread and healthy lashings of body horror. He plans to forge a reputation as a purveyor of frightful short stories in both collaborative collections and his own anthologies.

Twitter: @WeirdWilkins

Wyrdbane

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by Weird Wilkins

I always thought I’d die in battle…

Now I lie here, the drifting snow slowly smothering my twisted form. My skin, blackened and wracked with weeping welts, sloughs in great hunks from my charred bones.

I try to speak, to curse at the one who has wrought this upon me, but I can manage nothing more than garbled splutters. I lie here, quietly drowning in my own putrid blood.

The agony of my pox-ridden body is second only to my shame.

I am to be denied Valhalla.

To think, the old ones said there would be glory in hunting witches…

 

Weird Wilkins

Weird Wilkins is long-time writing enthusiast taking the terrifying plunge into the world of actually submitting work for publication. He’s rooted firmly in the “weird fiction” subgenre of horror with a particular passion for stories revolving around a mounting sense of dread and healthy lashings of body horror. He plans to forge a reputation as a purveyor of frightful short stories in both collaborative collections and his own anthologies.