Tag Archive for: Pauline Yates

Numbskull

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by Pauline Yates

For the third time, bone shards and chunks of brain splatter when Pete’s bullet hits the tree and ricochets. In a flash of brilliance, his twitching body returns to his maker again.

“How long will I repeat dying?” Pete asks, confounded by his death-loop.

“Until you admit you erred when aligning the riflescope,” his maker says. “It’s out by five degrees.”

“I’m a fifth-generation deer hunter. I don’t make mistakes.”

His maker smirks. “If you say so.”

Grey mist swirls. Pete peers through the riflescope, lines up the buck and squeezes the trigger.

Bone shards and chunks of brain splatter.

 

Pauline Yates

Pauline Yates is the creative force behind Memories Don’t Lie and Dream Job and she enjoys drabbling in the dark. 

Website: paulineyates.com 

Tick Tock

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by Pauline Yates

The new virus spreading worldwide should be named after a clock. The nosebleeds begin exactly six hours after infection. At seventy-two hours, vision loss occurs. That surprised everyone. Many people died after crashing their cars or falling down stairs. They were lucky, I suppose. Brain rupture occurs bang on ninety-eight hours; a messy, drawn-out death in every case.

Though blind and bleeding, it took me less time to fashion a noose. Three hours and twenty-two minutes, to be exact. I just need a ladder. Frank next door has one. He’s not using it. He finished his noose two hours ago.

 

Pauline Yates

Pauline Yates, author of horror and science fiction, writes dark stories and loves bright sunrises. 

Website: paulineyates.com

Aya’s Makami

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by Pauline Yates

Aya, the transfer student, acts nonchalant, but beneath her straight fringe, her enormous eyes glisten with new-school nerves, and she clutches a diary to her flat chest like a life support. Fool. That diary begs to be read. Especially by me.

I snatch the diary from her matchstick fingers. Flipping it open, I stare into the eyes of Makami. The divine protector looks into my heart, then gives a guttural roar and swallows me whole.

I’m not alone. Another bully hunkers in the beast’s belly, her round face whiter than a tsuki moon. Somewhere above us, savage teeth snap shut.

 

Pauline Yates

Pauline Yates, Australian author of the sci-fi action/adventure, Memories Don’t Lie. Writes dark stories. Loves bright sunrises.

Website: paulineyates.com

 

Memories Don’t Lie by Pauline Yates – Launches 11th March 2023

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I was a compulsive daydreamer growing up, and I turned that into a writing career. What could be better than doing the thing you love most?

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Memories Don’t Lie by Pauline Yates

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Sarah Wilson’s journey takes a deadly turn when she uncovers secrets about her past, hidden deep in her mother’s memories, that threaten everything Sarah wants. They could cost her everything she holds dear—and her life.

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Spooned

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by Pauline Yates

Beechwood Psychiatric Hospital’s new nurse has a head full of ideas, like “kindness begets kindness”, that sort of shit. I play along. I stop smacking my head against the wall when she asks me, politely, mind you, to take my pills. Now she lets me eat ice cream with a spoon. I want her to eat ice-cream, too, but she won’t…

won’t…

won’t…

And that makes my head hurt like the spoon scoops out my brain. So I make her eat. Eat, and eat, until all her ideas burst out of her head.

I scoop them up and swallow them, too.

 

Pauline Yates

Pauline Yates lives in Australia and writes horror and dark fiction.
Website: paulineyates.com

Pony for Christmas

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by Pauline Yates

 

My “ho’s” change to groans as I play the shopping mall Santa—my wife arrives with our granddaughter, Ester, and home-baked cookies for my tea break. I love Ester, but the cookies taste funny and belong in the bin.

Ester clambers onto my lap.

“What would you like for Christmas?” I ask.

She pouts. “A pony. Grandma’s making me wait until after she collects Grandpa’s life insurance, but I want one now.”

“Is she? Well, all good girls get their Christmas wish.”

And bad wives get a knife through the heart. I saw one on sale. I’ll get it gift-wrapped.”

 

Pauline Yates

Pauline Yates writes dark stories with a pen she pinched from the dead zone.

@midnightmuser1

 

First Person, Present Tense

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by Pauline Yates

 

Eager to try the new AI Book Writer app, I download the program and enable the wireless imagination transfer function.

“Welcome to Book Writer,” a computer simulated voice says. “Please imagine scenes for text conversion and click upload.”

I imagine the scenes in “Murder By Moonlight”, the crime novel I started but never finished, and click upload.

“Images received. Enabling text conversion. Error. Crime detected. First-degree murder, punishable by law.”

“It’s fiction, you dumb computer.”

“Commencing jury deliberation. Guilty verdict received. Downloading penalty.”

“What? Cancel!”

“Appeal denied. Dispensing penance.”

An electric shock fries my brain.

 The computer beeps. “Termination complete.”

 

Pauline Yates

Pauline Yates lives in Australia and writes horror and dark speculative fiction. Links to her publications can be found here: https://linktr.ee/paulineyates

 

The Devil’s Breath

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by Pauline Yates

 

Tossed onto a reef by a rogue wave, our pirate ship shudders, and a sickening crunch sounds our death knell. Salt burns my lungs when I gulp water, not air, then I’m back on board with my crew, peering through fog that reeks of sulphur.

“What’s that smell?”

“The Devil’s breath,” a crewmate says. “Collecting our plundering souls, he is.”

I clutch my ghostly chest. “He can take it. I never want to drown again.”

“Nay. Caught in a hell loop, I fear.” He points at the ocean. A wave swells, tossing the ship. “Brace yourself. We’re going down again.”

Pauline Yates

Pauline Yates lives in Australia and writes horror and dark speculative fiction. Links to her publications can be found here: https://linktr.ee/paulineyates

 

 

 

Drained

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by Pauline Yates

 

Desperate to stop the zombie apocalypse, the latest plague to afflict humanity, I draw my knife across Annie’s wrist and fill a bucket with her blood.

Annie sways. “Will it work?”

“It better or we’re dead.” Grabbing the bucket, I open the door and throw the blood over the advancing zombies. It’s an insane idea, but attracted to the blood, the zombies mistake their festering bodies for fresh flesh and rip themselves apart in a feeding frenzy.

“It worked,” I shout, euphoric. “Annie, they’re dead. Annie?”

Anne lies on the floor, white-faced and lifeless. No blood drips from her wrist.

Pauline Yates

Pauline Yates lives in Australia and writes horror and dark speculative fiction. Links to her publications can be found here: https://linktr.ee/paulineyates