Unclaimed and Quiet

by Miriam H. Harrison


They had warned us of giants, and so we watched for the swaying of trees, the sudden flight of birds. Yet all around us were silent forests and barren hills. From the highest of these summits we could see even more of this land, unclaimed and quiet.

“Have you ever seen a place so still?”

My captain snorted. “Better to face stillness than giants. Set the flag; we’ll make camp.”

The silence loomed large as I readied the flag. But as I pushed it into the ground and blood spurted up, the hill beneath us lurched and bellowed in rage.

Miriam H. Harrison

Miriam H. Harrison studies full time, works on the side, writes when she should be doing other things, and trains the dust bunnies to fend for themselves. She is an Active member of the Horror Writers Association, and you can look for any updates about her published works on Facebook: @miriam.h.harrison


by Chris Bannor


They towered above us, blocking out the sun in their magnificence. We tried to fight, but how do you stop a creature so massive it engulfs your house with a single footstep?

The government made mechanical monstrosities to combat the invaders, but the damage grew worse. The aliens came to subjugate, not destroy, but in our fight for freedom, we destroyed ourselves far better than they.

Now it’s up to us. We have small teams ready with explosives. We have the will to survive.

But in a suicide mission to save the world, do we have the will to die?

Chris Bannor

Chris Bannor is a speculative fiction writer who lives in Southern California.  Chris learned her love of genre stories from her mother at an early age and has never veered far from that path.  You can chat with Chris on Facebook @chrisbannorauthor

Sleep Under the Stars

by Bernardo Villela


It was a marvellous night to sleep under the stars.

Soon, I awoke. The moonlight seemed wrong somehow. Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I saw massive branches asway. Not branches but antennae, leading to a gargantuan ovoid shadow blotting out the moon. I couldn’t be seeing what I thought I was seeing, could I? Moonlit mandibles confirmed my fears: It was a cockroach towering above the centuries-old oak I’d camped under.

I ran. The light changed. Glancing skyward, I saw an intrusion of flying cockroaches swooping down. I tripped, pain rose, I’d lost my foot. Maimed, they started feasting.

Bernardo Villela

Bernardo Villela has published a novella The Isle of Helyr, and three short story collections, The Bloodmaster Trilogy and Teenage Death Songs, Vols. 1 & 2; and has short fiction included in Coffin Bell Journal, The Dark Corner Zine, 101 Proof Horror, A Monster Told Me Bedtime Stories, Page & Spine and forthcoming in 42 Stories Anthology, Constraint 280 and Rivet. You can read more about these and various other pursuits at

Intelligent Life

by N.E. Rule


Khiiki strokes the silky hair through the cage bars, pleading, “Dad, I can’t choose.”

“Darling, we can’t get both. They’re cute, but when they mature, they won’t like this handling.” Tsts nods at his spawn tickling the female’s belly. “This male will grow hair everywhere, it needs constant grooming.” What Tsts can’t mention is their mating; how it’s noisy and messy.

The male’s blue eyes peer up under long lashes. “Can it understand us?” She clicks.

“No,” Tsts clicks back. Then, he can’t resist extending his tentacle to pet the tiny human. He smiles as it curls into a ball.

N.E. Rule

N.E. Rule attended Ryerson University in Toronto for creative writing and business communications. Her corporate writing portfolio includes software specs, marketing copy, and training materials. However, her passion is creative writing. The characters in her head refuse to wait for her to find spare-time to come out and play.

How Long to Hide

by Joe Buckley


So hard to hide at this size. Even harder to protest innocence. The littles never want to talk. They never give up the chase. They swarm and bite and buzz. He cannot hear a word, but he knows the sound of hate.

So easy to run at this size. Leaping bounds and stretching strides. But that only hastens the hunt.

So tempting to turn at this size. To swat and crush and snarl, to give them the guilt they want.

But that only swells the sting. So run. Hide. Try again. Until either they understand, or he deigns to war.

Joe Buckley

While normally running a podcast or walking the wilds with my collie, every now and then I have a chance to try writing. I like to turn to flash and micro fiction. In 2019 I was lucky enough to have three 100-word stories published in the WORLDS Dark Drabbles Anthology

Twitter: @SerBuckley

Gaze Upon a Mountain Face

by Steven Holding


Panting, we reached the summit of the hill. My guide gestured towards the horizon. The stunning mountain range snatched my breath away even further.

“They call that ridge ‘The Sleeping Giants’,”

I could see why. Trapped within its topography were familiar looking shapes: monstrous, slumbering creatures.

“Legend say it’s the Nephilim… Spawn of fallen angels, waiting to be called to paradise…”

Suddenly, I stumbled, as the ground surrounding us shook.

Earthquake? A landslide?

A chorus of a thousand trumpets echoed as the peak before us split open.

The dreaming beasts had been awoken.

And God have mercy…

They looked hungry.

Steven Holding

Steven Holding lives in the United Kingdom. Most recently, his work has appeared in the collection Dark Moments Year Two from Black Hare Press and the anthologies Trembling with Fear Year Three and Trembling with Fear More Tales from the Tree Volume Two. You can follow his work at

Unfinished Business

by Mendel Mire


“You see now why we need your help, Father?” Jack asked.

The priest wiped the vomit from his lips, surveying the carnage in the town square. Some buildings had been tossed across the street. Others obliterated entirely. The bodies of townsfolk were smeared across the rubble, like a bloody lacquer of skin, flesh, and bone. It was all too clear why the famous Jack the Giant Killer had sought his assistance.

“Perhaps we should have foreseen this,” Jack continued. “Giants have souls too. It was just a matter of time before my work would give rise to a giant poltergeist.”

Mendel Mire

Mendel Mire is an Australian academic researcher living in the United States. He has a PhD in comparative anatomy and studies animal biology while assisting with dissections and mentoring university students. He enjoys writing sci-fi/horror/dark fantasy and designs speculative ecosystems and scientifically plausible creatures for kicks. He can be found on Twitter @MendelMire

Huge Mistake

by Evan Baughfman


Dr Moranis grinned as his growth ray morphed a meagre fig into a monster atop the auditorium stage.

His demonstration complete, Moranis stepped beside the fruit, now the size of a Volkswagen Bug. “Imagine,” he said, “an entire village fed for days on a single piece of locally-grown food.”

His investors applauded. Cheered. Screamed.

For a parade of enlarged insects had suddenly burst free of the ripened orb, their residency inside unknown to Moranis until that very moment.

Gargantuan fig wasps swarmed stunned spectators.

Confused by people’s colourful attire, the creatures attempted to pollinate every shrieking flower they could find.

Evan Baughfman

Evan Baughfman is a middle school teacher and author. Much of his writing success has been as a playwright. A number of his scripts can be found at online resources, Drama Notebook and New Play Exchange. Evan also writes horror fiction and screenplays. More information is available at


by S Jade Path


Remembrance Tech’s tour group milled about. Servers wove smoothly between, offering golden, sparkling wines. The tour wouldn’t begin until the last drop was licked from their lips—but they didn’t know that.

While the wine did its work, Clio chatted with several clients, subtly priming.

Walk the facility, show off the memory extractors, storage options—a plash of something showy with nitrogen; the tech sold itself.

The clients sipped glasses of oblivion, signing away their memories, paying for the privilege.

Smiling, Clio tapped out a text.

Looking at her phone, Mnemosyne laughed. Rising, a new kind of Titan.


S Jade Path

S Jade Path is a fledgling author of small fiction and a prolific creator of dark poetry. She has had a life-long obsession with crawling into the depths of the psyche and forging shadows into words. Her work parallels this penchant for delving into the fantastical and strolling amongst demons.  Follow her on Facebook: SJadePath

Mighty Minions

by John H. Dromey


While the house shook like a road train crossing a speed hump, a visitor asked his host, “Is this an earthquake?”

“No, just some construction work being done next door. My neighbour conjured up several mythical creatures to help him. A satyr is inspecting the roof of his garage, for example. Being half goat, the hairy fellow’s really surefooted.”

“What’s making that terrible racket and causing the ground to tremble?”

“He’s also replacing his driveway. Since he’s too cheap to rent a jackhammer to break up the asphalt, he’s having that done by a couple of Golems on pogo sticks.”

John H. Dromey

John H. Dromey was born in northeast Missouri, USA. In addition to contributing to the first ten BHP anthologies in the Dark Drabbles series, he previously had a drabble published online in Dark Moments. He also has a story in the anthology Beyond the Realm (Black Hare Press, 2020).