Every night the windows to her bedroom would be frosted over. She sat alone in her bed waiting for the finger-traced messages to appear.
No matter how hot it got during that Los Angeles summer, she refused to open a single window at night and risk meeting their chilly author.
Danielle grew up with a passion for all things literary. She first put pen to paper writing articles for a newspaper she designed and created during elementary school. Danielle’s creative channels evolved into writing poetry, short stories, essays, and children’s books. When not writing her own material, Danielle loves reading everything and anything she can get her hands on especially mysteries, suspense, and historical fiction. Some of Danielle’s other talents include finding new and creative ways to use sarcasm, spilling/dropping things, being supremely weird without even trying, knitting, and photography.
Clouds bulge grey and spit fat drops into my river, slate-grey in reflection. I relish their wanton lack of care, their wild abandon, their unthinking fall and splash.
Then come the bereft, sad, homeless seeking shelter under my bridge.
I welcome them, my teeth razors, my mouth waiting underwater.
Aisling Green wrote this story.
She strokes the talisman as the wind howls. She kisses the rosary and climbs into the musty bed. Branches assault the battered house; rain pelts the bolted windows.
She dreams of icy lips.
The shadow beneath her bed shifts, stirs. A bony hand strokes her auburn hair. “Abigail,” he whispers.
Debbie L. Miller is a Brooklyn, New York writer. She writes short stories, plays, monologues, personal essays, memoir, flash fiction, features, and humor pieces.
Jaden was unimpressed. The occult museum wasn’t even scary as Gramma’s basement. He rolled his eyes at a doll slumped in a cage.
Hannah kept still. She’d waited a long time. She’d prefer a girl, but the boy would do.
Hannah blinked her doll eyes. The little boy was hers.
L.L. Madrid has always wondered about dolls.
Joey and Mauler held the handkerchiefs to their faces as the smell of burning flesh seeped into their souls. They chanted the malediction they’d learned from the warlock with muffled voices, hoping they’d remembered it correctly.
That evening, the beast came and corrected them. It breathed in their scent, hungrily.
James Kowalczyk was born and raised in Brooklyn. He now lives in Northern California with his wife, two daughters, and four cats. His work has been published in numerous publications both online and in print. He teaches English at the high school and college level.
As the dark loomed over her, she could feel her heart race.
Suddenly she could hear her own footsteps. She started to move towards a tall derelict building.
The noise of her footsteps faded away, overtaken by an overwhelming screeching like finger nails on a blackboard.
What could it be?
Erin Walker is a 9 year-old girl who in her spare time likes writing stories and singing.
When he awoke he was under the bed, the blinds were down and the room was in darkness. Was it day or night? There was a distinct iron taste—of blood?—in his mouth. He felt satisfied, giddy.
Running his tongue over his sharp canines, he knew.
It had begun.
Lin Jenkinson is a Canadian woman who has a penchant for iconic horror and flash fiction. She has been known to write poetry and non-horror but only on off days.
A loud noise wakes Gary up.
He is knocked unconscious.
He wakes again in a dark room with thick white prison bars on one side. The warm air reeks foully with a rotten stench.
He feels the floor moving, notices its moistness, and realizes the white prison bars are teeth.
Denny E, Marshall has had art, poetry, and fiction published, including cover art for Disturbed Digest
June 2015. See more at dennymarshall.com
Floorboards groan, but there are no feet on them to make that sound. A crash from a window pane, but only cobwebs catch the breeze.
“Dawn, where is dawn? I’m so sorry I came. I’m so sorry I didn’t believe…”
The door knob turns. Click, it’s open. Creak.
TP Keane is the author of The Anathemas – Underground
, coming out soon with Distinguished Press. She was born and raised in Ireland and now lives in the USA with her husband and two children. The middle child of seven, she has always found a reclusive corner to escape the hustle and bustle of a busy house with a good book.
Bill answered his phone; his brother Ben’s frantic whisper burst through.
“Someone’s in the house! I hear them, Bill! I’m in the attic – this battery’s almost dead! Qui-click!”
Bill regarded the phone.
He knew who to call, tapped the number.
“He’s in the attic. Take your time. But finish him.”
George Hopkin puts words and spaces together and hopes they entertain or inform. If they both entertain and inform, he thinks that’d be just fantastic, thank you very much.