Tag Archive for: dark moments

No Lady

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by Tracy Davidson

 

Some call me myth. Others believe. None get my story right.

I’ve lived a thousand lives, in many forms. I’ve waited and watched as humans developed and spread. I’ve loved them. I’ve hated them. Or, rather, hated what they have done to this world. What they still do.

My purpose is to protect. But not them. They have doomed themselves. Left unchecked, they will doom all. Time to stop waiting and watching.

I leave my lake behind. My arms morph into swords, ready to slice through the true monsters of this world.

My name is Excalibur. My legend begins anew.

Tracy Davidson

Tracy Davidson lives in Warwickshire, England, and writes poetry and flash fiction. Her work has appeared in various publications and anthologies, including: Poet’s Market, Mslexia, Atlas Poetica, Modern Haiku, The Binnacle, A Hundred Gourds, Shooter, Journey to Crone, The Great Gatsby Anthology, WAR, In Protest: 150 Poems for Human Rights.

Paying the Piper

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by M. Leigh

 

The pipe quivers against blistered lips as he plays the familiar, melancholy tune. The song slinks through the forest, reaching the sleeping village, and tickles the children’s ears awake. Naked feet scurry toward the windows.

He approaches.

The Piper’s pointed boots click along the cobblestone below bloodied green and white striped pantaloons. His face—mangled shadows, masked by a feathered cap.

The children know what was promised—the wicked deal made by the elders. Their sinful debt.

Watching their parents file behind the Piper, following his hypnotic stride away from town, they smile.

Children know how to make deals, too.

 

M. Leigh

Leigh is a horror writer from Woodinville, Washington USA. Her short stories have been published with Black Hare Press and Flame Tree Press. She is currently working on her first novel. 

Website: www.mleighstories.com/

Make It Last

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by Birgit K. Gaiser

 

Grown-ups always ask where my parents are. I mumble: “They couldn’t come.” They know that’s code for a challenging home environment, so they put some extra treats in my pumpkin bag.

I look past them through the door, imagining what it’s like to live there.

Finally, when the pumpkins have gone dark, I return to my favourite house.

I knock. A woman opens. 

In a small voice, I ask: “May I come in?”

Full of concern, she nods. Lifts me up. Hugs me.

I nibble her neck and drink—just a little. If I’m careful, she’ll last until next year.

 

Birgit K. Gaiser

Birgit lives in Edinburgh, Scotland and writes short speculative fiction. They enjoy the slightly bizarre and characters who view the world with a healthy dose of sarcasm. They like to consult their PhD in toxicology for the occasional (literary) poisoning.

Facebook:  @BirgitKGaiser

Sweet Delicious Candy

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by John Ward

 

She could smell candy on the evening breeze.

She closed her eyes and let the intoxicating perfume wash over her, rekindling memories of bygone nights filled with jack-o’-lanterns and costumes and excitement.

The mouth-watering scent lured her to a bustling suburban street where the candy ran freely. Drunk with anticipation, she sank her teeth into a discarded treat and gorged herself, savouring the sweet ichor as it exploded on her tongue.

She retreated before the enraged man was upon her. Looking back as she fled, she saw him try vainly to stop the blood gushing from the child’s severed artery.

 

John Ward

John Ward is a Vancouver-based writer, filmmaker, and podcaster. His recent comic book credits include Scratcher, Acausal, and Offbeats, and he’s also the creator of the 49 Degrees North Writers Podcast. Previously he was a theoretical physicist and was once almost run over by Stephen Hawking.

Twitter: @arbutus_films 

All Hungry Ghosts’ Eve

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by Collin Yeoh

 

Halloween? Really, granddaughter?

You can’t speak your mother tongue. You scorn our ways and traditions. You threw yourself at the first white man who could say “ni hao.” You don’t even have an altar to me in your home.

Now you eagerly celebrate this stupid Western drivel with its vulgar costumes and its children’s games?

You forget we have our own Hungry Ghost Festival. On that night the gates of hell open—and unlike this meaningless, commercialised holiday—that is when spirits really do walk the earth.

I’ll be paying you a visit then.

And I’ll be very hungry.

 

Collin Yeoh

Collin Yeoh enjoys writing horror drabbles. They’re so much fun! He has had several published in collections by Ghost Orchid Press, Black Ink Fiction, and Black Hare Press. He lives in Bangkok and misses Malaysian food.

Trick or Eat

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by Emily Carlson

 

Being left home alone on Halloween was the worst. Too old to trick or treat, too young to accompany her parents to whatever monster mash they were attending this year.

When the doorbell rang, she sighed, dragging the bowl of candy over to answer.

Three masked people rushed at her, holding knives out and pushing their way into her house. They crowded around, threatening her if she didn’t comply.

She smiled at the intruders, relishing the turn of their confidence to panic when sharp fangs emerged from her gums.

Maybe being stuck at home this year wouldn’t be so bad.

 

Emily Carlson

Emily Carlson is a queer writer, reader, and lover of monsters. Emily can be found on Twitter at @emiacarlson or by saying her name three times while looking in a mirror.

Kid Tax

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by Michelle Brett

 

“Hand over the candy, kid.”

Anthony trembled beneath the bully’s gaze. He clutched his basket closer and spluttered out some words.

“Please, no. It took me ages.”

The bully snorted, then glanced back at his cronies; their faces already stuffed with stolen treats.

“Now,” he hissed.

Anthony dropped the basket as he held back his tears. He ran from the alleyway, laughter following him out.

But once he’d turned the corner, the run became an amble. His superhero cape floated behind him in the wind.

Not long now.

Soon they’d start gorging themselves, then the poison would take its toll.

 

Michelle Brett

Michelle Brett is a New Zealand based author, writing horror, thriller, and speculative fiction. She has a Diploma in Applied Writing and is currently working towards a Bachelor in Communication. In her free time, she likes to question the choices of horror movie characters and report on historic crimes for a local paper.

Fresh Start

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by Andrew Anderson

 

The doorbell rang.

“So it begins,” muttered Ed, getting up to answer the door for his inaugural trick-or-treaters.

This was Ed’s first Halloween since moving to town, so he’d prepared a tray of rather lopsided homemade cakes, along with some assorted chocolates and lollies from the supermarket.

These kids were polite; not wishing to offend him, they grabbed a cake each and as much wrapped sugar as their buckets could carry. Ed knew they would wait until they were out of sight, then toss his cakes into the hedge.

That’s why he’d put the poison into the store-bought candy instead.

 

Andrew Anderson

Andrew Anderson (he/him) is a writer of fiction from Bathgate, Scotland. His work has previously been published by National Flash Fiction Day Press, Sampson Low Ltd., Selcouth Station Press, The Drabble, Black Hare Press, Eerie River Publishing, Paragraph Planet, Steering 23 Publications and Blood Song Books.

Halloween at the Morrison’s

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by Sophie Wagner

 

In Mateo’s opinion, Halloween was the best time of the year. On decorating day, his family would carve, hang skeletons and Mother would make meat pies.

Sadly, this year they started without him.

When he arrived home, Morrie was already carving a lopsided smile into a decapitated head. In the kitchen, Mother was busy chopping the rest of the body. He could already smell the pies in the oven.

“Sorry to start without you,” his dad called. “But you can join your brother, if you want.”

Mateo advanced on the bound man in the corner.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

 

Sophie Wagner

Sophie Wagner is an emerging student author who has had multiple short story and poetry publications. You can find her work at the Black Hare Press, The Macabre Ladies and For Women Who Roar. She hopes you have a horror filled day!

Harvest

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by Elle Jauffret

 

She always picked the ugliest pumpkin, the rotten one with the mouldy skin—disfigured, putrid, and asymmetrical.

She would carve through its decomposing shell with sharp nails—and dig through its flesh with bare hands.

Once its entrails removed, she would search through the stringy pulp for the blackest of seeds that she could plant.

She would sow them in the freshly ploughed ground of the paupers’ grave where Jane and John Does were buried, forgotten.

She would spit on the soil and chant in tongues. So that a year later, on October 31st, monsters would rise from its sprouts.

 

Elle Jauffret

Elle Jauffret is a French American writer and Californian attorney who writes across genres.

Website: ellejauffret.com

Twitter/Instagram @ellejauffret