All Fall Down

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by Don Money

 

The beat of heavy wings gusted over the battlefield, sending dust plumes swirling. The three Nephilim landed, towering over the combatants on each side. Fear swept the faces of both armies. These fallen angels were allies to no man.

With no warning, the Nephilim lashed out with their silver weapons, long spears impaling dozens of men with each thrust and sword blades slicing open the blood and bone of scores with each swing.

In the end, the carnage of broken bodies flooded the field, the tide of men had been smashed like waves against the immovable rocky shore of giants.

 

Don Money

Don Money writes stories across a variety of genres. He is a middle school language arts teacher. His stories have appeared in a variety of anthologies.

 

Karen Bayly

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KAREN BAYLY’s passion for writing began as a child when she wrote soap operas for her dolls to perform under her creative direction. These days it’s her biology PhD and research background that informs her writing, a fusion of science fiction, horror, and fantasy.

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Pomegranate

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by Inez Santiago

 

After swiping dark black wings across her eyes, her eyes drifted down from the heavens. Her fingers dipped into the masses. Screams erupted a little too late as she made her selection.

It was met with resistance, a downward tug on her little snack’s legs. More screams. She shook a few off, but some still desperately clung.

But she did not hunger for more than what she had, so she squeezed. Its red juices bubbling from its body dripped delectably onto her fingers, and the desperate. The desperate slipped away, the man into her maw.

She smiled at the flavour.

 

Inez Santiago

Inez Santiago is a young Mexican writer from Southern California. She likes long walks by the cliffside and roaring waters. Beware. Find her staring off into space on Twitter @InezSantiagoFic or at her website: https://inezsantiago.carrd.co/ 

 

Son of Heaven

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by Ian Gabriel Loisel

 

The angel’s son plucks the feathers from his back, his arms. It’s bloody work, each downy pinion pried free, slow and agonizing, leaving crimson stains on the tile, but he’s used to it.

His mother claims it was an angel who blessed her, all white wings and golden light and the sound of thunder. His mother is fourteen years older than him.

Every night she prays for the angel to return, to find her worthy, to love her again. He prays for the angel to return as well, and keeps a pistol under his bed for the day it happens.

 

Ian Gabriel Loisel

Ian Gabriel Loisel is an environmental educator, writer, and artificial intelligence enthusiast from Atlanta, GA who spends way too much time on the computer, possibly bringing about the robo-apocalypse, or maybe just creating extremely silly and sometimes scary stories. Their Twitter bio says “genius boy,” so it must be true.

 

Birth of a Nephilim

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by Laura Nettles

 

Rachel gasped as she was overshadowed by a fallen angel. Her soul dissolved, mingling with one of dark fire and rock. They separated, but she was left changed.

“The baby is too big!” yelled the midwife. “There is no way you can push out something of that size!”

Rachel gritted her teeth. “Then cut it out.”

Hot blood splashed the lavish desert tent’s cushioned interior as a wicked sharp hunting knife bit into bulging, deformed taut belly, rending thick layers of bloody membranes in twain. From the deep fissure rose a being with wings hard as stone. Son. Destroyer. Nephilim.

 

Laura Nettles

Laura Nettles is a California girl living in Canada.  She lights special effects for films by day, and pens terror by night. Snuggles with her dog Roy, and warm cups of rooibos tea sustain her. Follow her journey and read some of her fiction at lauranettles.com.

 

He Has His Father’s Eyes

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by Warren Benedetto

 

The angel Elom wept over his wife’s broken body. Blood pattered to the floor from the straw mattress upon which she gave birth.

Birth? No. It was no birth.

She had simply…ruptured.

The child was a giant—a Nephilim. It tore through its mother’s flesh: first its hands, then its arms, then its head.

Elom lifted the child. Its eyelids opened to reveal empty sockets, hollow and black. Blind, the baby traced its fingers across Elom’s face, exploring.

Mouth. Nose. Cheeks.

Eyes.

Elom screamed as the baby gouged his eyes from their sockets and pressed them into its own.

 

Warren Benedetto

Warren Benedetto writes short fiction about horrible people doing horrible things. He is a full member of the SFWA. He is also the developer of StayFocusd, the world’s most popular anti-procrastination app for writers. He built it while procrastinating. Visit www.warrenbenedetto.com and follow @warrenbenedetto on Twitter.

 

See You Soon

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by Jacek Wilkos

 

He knelt before the grave. Looked at the inscriptions and placed his large hand on the tombstone.

“Hello Mother” he whispered.

He couldn’t stand what she had done. Old and sick, she wasn’t going to wait for death to come for her and committed suicide.

“You are the son of a fallen angel, there’s no place in Heaven for your kind.” she said to him shortly before her death. She would rather meet him in Hell than miss him in Heaven.

Tears ran down his cheeks. He raised his sight and angrily looked at the sky.

“See you soon, Mother.”

Jacek Wilkos

Jacek Wilkos is an engineer from Poland. He is addicted to buying books, he loves black coffee, dark ambient music and riding his bike. His stories were published in numerous anthologies by Black Hare Press, Alien Buddha Press, Eerie River Publishing, Insignia Stories, Fantasia Divinity, Reanimated Writers Press, KJK publishing.
Facebook: @Jacek.W.Wilkos

Blessed Be the Artillery

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by Bill Bibo Jr.

 

Sister Mary Antagonista strapped the bandoliers over her black tunic. She secured their contents, blessed moments earlier for their holy mission. A steel-plated headpiece completed her uniform.

A pink cloud of bloodthirsty flamingos had descended upon the unsuspecting city and raised their wings in war. The people, used to seeing the usually docile creatures in zoos and habitats, were vulnerable to the terrible carnage that followed.

The Sisters of Perpetual Pain had planned and prepared for such a battle. Thoughts and prayers are never enough against the denizens of Hell. You need high-powered weaponry. The warriors of God were ready.

Bill Bibo Jr.

Bill has written for Stupefying Stories, Havok, Timeless Tales, Black Ink Fiction, among others. For updates on works in progress, go to  billbibojr.com  and sign on to his newsletter, “Bibo Madness”. As he continues to build the website, there will be surprises, especially for him.

Welcome to Swingers Island

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by Jacqueline Moran Meyer

 

“Welcome to Swingers Island,” the musk-oiled Adonis had said, handing an excited Don and Yolanda the flamingo they would be in charge of for their entire vacation. But after spending a day on the nude beach, getting sunburned in unmentionable places, while chasing that bird, their excitement waned.

“Squawk!”

“What does it want?” Don yelled, adjusting his mullet wig.

“Who knows? You’re carrying it tonight,” Yolanda dressed as a nun ordered, tonight being fetish night.

Outside, they were stunned to see the carnage of flamingos attacking the guests.

“They’ve had enough,” Don murmured before his flamingo tore off his ear.

Jacqueline Moran Meyer

Jacqueline Moran Meyer has been published in many Black Hare Press anthologies, Bewildering Stories, Iron Faerie Press anthologies, Eerie River Publishers, Blood Song Books, Flash Fiction Magazine, Grinning Skull Press, among others. Visit her website www.jmoranmeyer.net.

Flaming-O

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by Vijayaraj Mahendraraj

 

“Welcome to The Flaming-O! Tropical resort, spa, buffets—” choked the tearful woman.

“You alright?” asked a concerned couple.

“Yes… yes, I swear,” she replied, eyes terrified.

“Our rooms?” pressed an indifferent tourist.

“Rooms…” she stammered.

“And when do we eat?”

“The buffet… starts soon,” she mumbled.

One by one, they departed. Trembling, she concealed battered arms under a pink coat.

Right on cue, the silence was broken. Screams. Thrashes. Bones splintered by enormous beaks. A deep pink and crimson bathed each room akin to fresh coats of paint.

Then, silence again. Until the next buffet.

“Welcome to The Flaming-O.”

Vijayaraj Mahendraraj

My name is Vijayaraj Mahendraraj. I am originally from Malaysia but currently work as a physician in Canada. Writing has always been a burning passion of mine. I was recently accepted for publication in the Year Four Dark Moments Anthology, the Grimdark Anthology and the Halloween Drabble Anthology with BHP.