Tag Archive for: microfiction

The Doom of Man

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by Kimberly Rei

 

The ancestors knew.

They paid homage to moons, full or new. They left yearling calves and walked away, chins high as the beasts screamed in fear.

They never dared look back.

As generations shifted, manners were forgotten. Worship ceased. Great smears of blood across barn doors, always on a black moon, tried to warn them. They paid no heed to the babbling elders, nor the missing livestock. These things happen.

But when the children went missing, leaves and moss left in their place, they worried. Too late. Too lost. Too much hunger festered.

The Green Lady would have her due.

Kimberly Rei

Kim has taught writing workshops and edited novels for Authors You May Recognize. She has three published short stories and has become a greedy beast, hungry for more. She currently lives in Tampa Bay, Florida with her beautiful, supportive wife and an abundance of gorgeous beaches to explore.

Website: studio-rei.mailchimpsites.com

 

 

Disastrous Intentions

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by Andrew Kurtz

 

I have existed undetectable since the beginning of time and will remain so for all eternity.

A meteor didn’t eradicate the dinosaurs as is believed, but the venomous breath emanating from my hundred mouths suffocated the worthless beasts to extinction.

My thousand tentacles dragging the Titanic to its watery grave were blamed on a mere iceberg.

The intense luminosity from my fifty eyes caused the Hindenburg to transform into a fiery coffin, not weather conditions or mechanical failure.

My sights are now set on you. Don’t worry, your demise will be attributed to mechanical issues.

Enjoy your flight.

Andrew Kurtz

Andrew Kurtz is an up-and-coming horror author who writes very graphic and violent short stories which have appeared in numerous horror anthologies.

Since childhood, he has loved horror films and literature.

His favorite authors are Stephen King, Clive Barker, H.G. Wells, Richard Matheson, Edgar Allan Poe, H.P. Lovecraft, and Ray Bradbury.

 

 

Access to Your Heart

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by Andreas Flögel

 

When he woke up, his chest hurt. As usual, she had immobilised him with handcuffs and ropes. But something was new.

“Have a look.” She helped him lift his head. A zipper was sewn into the flesh of his breast. She grinned.

“When I open it, I can see your heart beating.” The ball gag prevented him from asking, but she knew him well enough. “Why? Controlling your body isn’t all. I want access to your heart. See it, touch it, and eventually squeeze it till it stops.”

Even the gag could not hide the big smile on his face.

Andreas Flögel

Andreas Flögel writes short stories in different genres. You can find his fiction in German magazines and several anthologies.

More about him and his work: www.dr-dings.de

 

 

Incubator 212

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by Nicole Little

 

Unable to wipe away the sweat or tears, hampered by restraints, the woman suppressed the urge to push, instead taking quick breaths.

 “It’s time,” the doctor snapped.

White coats hovered in her limited field of vision.

She felt the tug, the vibration, as her belly was opened up; heard the cry of the baby as it was removed efficiently from her gaping womb.

“Good job 212. A healthy boy!”

She choked back a futile scream.

“Clean the mess,” he ordered the nurse. “And for Christ’s sake, don’t forget to zip her back up again. Can’t have another one bleeding out.”

Nicole Little

Nicole Little lives in Newfoundland, Canada. Her short stories have appeared in seventeen anthologies. Her first novella, The Lotus Fountain: A Slipstreamers Adventure launched November 2020. In her spare time, Nicole has either a pen in her hand or her nose in a book. She is married with two daughters. 

 

 

What Lives Inside

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by Taryn George

 

From underneath my desk, I watched through the slit in the wood as the body on the embalming table shifted. My eyes focused on the corpse’s head, where I’d found it.

The sound of a zip slowly being undone echoed through the quiet room and I watched as the dead woman’s face began to come apart as whatever was inside reached its fingers through the gap and began to push the zip further open.

I covered my mouth, trembling as it began to pull itself out, limb by limb from its host, when it slowly turned to stare at me

Taryn George

Writing from a small town in England, Taryn can often be found in the company of her cat – Jason. You’ll likely find her sitting at her window seat and writing nothing but nightmare fuel to keep people checking in their closets for the boogeyman.

 

 

The Manicure

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by Chad Miller

 

Unzip. Zip.

The sound made me nauseous. His leather pouch was displayed in the middle of the table like a prize. My whole body shook. I was going to vomit.

Unzip. Zip.

He smiled, displaying his yellow, tobacco-stained teeth. “Are you ready to talk?”

It took courage. I know what my action would mean. I shook my head.

Unzip. Zip.

“This only provides more fun for me.” He chuckled.

Unzip.

He dumped the contents of the pouch on the table. Three decaying fingers rolled out.

I gazed at my stumps. Only two fingers left. He flashed the pliers.

Snip. Snip.

Chad Miller

Chad Miller is a pharmacist and lives in lifeless Delaware with his girlfriend, Natasha, and her daughter Sasha, and his three children. His novel, The Prisoner of Fear, will be out 10/2022. 

Check out other stories on his website, chadmiller-author.com.

 

 

Opening Teeth

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by Andrew Jackson

 

Zip.

Some sounds a human should never hear.

It started so small—just a tiny hole in the air, like a busted seam. But it doubles in size each day, and with it comes that awful screeching of colossal teeth grinding along interdimensional fault lines.

I know I can’t contain it. I only boarded up the closet because soon it’ll be wide enough for those things to climb through.  

It’s easier just to lie here, pretending I can’t hear the little world growing. Hear those grinding teeth, those scuttling claws, those whispered not-words. I can almost do it. Almost.

Zip

Andrew Jackson

Andrew Jackson is a science fiction, thriller, and horror writer based in Surrey, England. He grew up on Star Trek, Alien, and videogames he was too young to play. His debut sci-fi novel is in progress.
Instagram: @authorandrewjackson

 

Full Moon Night

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by Andrew Hughes

 

“They’re here,” the dishevelled man howls. “They’re inside the hospital!”

“Jesus,” says the nurse. “The full moon brings the loons.”

“He’s scaring the other patients,” Dr McDonald says, snapping at an orderly. “Take him to psych.”

With security’s help, the orderly straps the man to the stretcher and wheels it into the elevator.

The man thrashes. “They’re here!”

“Shhh,” the orderly says. “I’m getting you help.”

The elevator doors slide open to a basement hallway.

Ahead is a sign for the boiler room.

The man looks up as the orderly’s face unzips; the skin peeling away to a grinning snout.

Andrew Hughes

Andrew has been writing and publishing short stories for the past decade. Most recently, his story The Cellar appeared on the NoSleep Podcast. He currently lives in Arizona, working as a teacher, and taking care of the world’s most adorable white husky.

 

Becoming

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by Lena Ng

 

Sundown and my favourite time of day was fast-approaching. The darkness of evening where I could finally be myself. I was tired of pretending, smiling fake smiles, repressing my violent thoughts, hiding my true nature. Clacking away at a keyboard for eight hours until the workday was over and the time was right. Soon my brethren would join me. In the blackness of my rat’s nest apartment, I unzipped my skin and stepped out, leaving the greasy, pink-coloured flesh on the floor. I stretched my arthropod legs and clacked my mandibles. I looked forward to feasting well into the night.

Lena Ng

Lena Ng lives in Toronto, Canada. She has short stories in seventy publications including Amazing Stories and the anthology We Shall Be Monsters, which was a finalist for the 2019 Prix Aurora Award. “Under an Autumn Moon” is her short story collection.

 

When the Zips Come A-Calling

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by LJ McLeod

 

Once a month, when the moon was dark, the Zips would come trawling for new skins. Those who lived on the streets scarred their skin and covered themselves in filth. The Zips were very particular. They preferred fresh meat, before track marks and deprivation marred the flesh.

Tonight, a new girl worked the corner. Nobody warned her—better her than them. A Zip cornered her, pulling at its zipper. Its face split in two, revealing jagged darkness. The girl screamed. Darkness surged down her throat and began eating away the unnecessary insides.

Next month a new Zip would come a-calling.

LJ McLeod

LJ McLeod lives in Queensland, Australia. She works in Pathology and writes in her spare time. She has been published in several anthologies and has been nominated twice for the Aurealis Award.  In her spare time she enjoys diving, reading and travelling.