Tag: horror

Six Sentence Stories

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I beam as I sign my entry in the hotel guestbook.

The receptionist stares at me dispassionately but I continue smiling as I casually mention that I might go for a stroll to see the hotel’s undoubtedly lovely surroundings. He still does not move, so I laugh, shrug and turn back to the guestbook as though I had only been kidding.

Flipping back through the book, I look at the now familiar entries of previous guests. This hotel only held one guest at a time, and so most entries were a series of daily compliments from one person that end when they were not effusive enough or hid a plea for help – but either way the blood spray signalled the end of that guest’s stay.

I flip back to my eighteenth entry and nod at the receptionist as I walk back to my room, quickly looking at where the front door once was.

I’m certain that I’ve lost my mind.

My husband thinks I must have started hoarding items while he’s been at work, but I honestly don’t remember buying any of this.

I don’t understand why I bought a dog bed and dog food when we’ve never had a dog. I don’t know how or when I decorated the spare room for a baby girl – I’ve never even been pregnant, for God’s sake!

As I go to my bedroom to rest I am shocked to see the amount of men’s clothing in the wardrobe and I am sure that I need to seek help. At least no one will know I’ve lost my mind, as I have always lived alone.

 

Five Sentence Stories

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Kathy rarely left her house, so the lockdown didn’t really bother her much.

What really annoyed her was having her house-mates home all the time, banging around below her attic room with no consideration. Kathy had lived with Dave and Liz for almost 3 years now and they’d never clashed before, or even had an awkward conversation. Up until now, they had been the perfect housemates.

They didn’t know she was there, mind, but it was all very inconsiderate and she would need to confront their rude behaviour soon.

My doctor always insisted that I not watch when she gave me my shots. I thought she was worried I would pass out or tense up too much, despite receiving the shots on a regular basis for years.

I’ve been sick my whole life and now that my father has passed from the same sickness, I’ve convinced myself that this treatment is the only thing keeping me alive. For the first time, I attend my appointment alone and without him sitting beside me, I can see a reflection in the window of the doctor preparing my shot.

I see the wriggling needle at the end of the syringe and I brace for the familiar biting sensation.

Ray had agreed to DJ the party for free, mostly so he would have an excuse to leave the dancefloor whenever he got tired of socialising. He looked at the long mirror hanging on the same wall his kit was set up against and watched the reflected versions of his friends dance.

It took him a moment to realise that their moves did not match the beat that was playing, and a few more to notice that the familiar moves were to the next song in the playlist. He saw a stain on the dress of a furious Emma and turned to see her unblemished in reality.

He watched her dance partner spill a drink on her and turned back to the wall, where he saw a fire beginning to trap the mirrored figures.

 

Four Sentence Stories

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I know it’s the ultimate guilty pleasure, but I can’t stop watching videos of people being killed online. As the stream begins, I immediately recognise my street as the camera follows a man to my front door. When I hear knocking I begin to panic and can’t believe they picked me, that it was my turn, despite having agreed to the website’s dire conditions.  As I shakily open the door I also can’t believe that the man at the door hasn’t noticed the cameraman in the shadows who winks at me from over his shoulder.

Evan had begun to think that stealing a mannequin might have been a funnier idea in the daytime than at night.The damn thing still gave him the creeps. Even posed wearing one of his shirts and cradling a bottle of beer the silhouette on the couch gave him the creeps, so he distracted himself by doing the dishes and thinking about how much it would scare his dummy-phobic flatmate.  He heard footsteps and braced for the screams. He only had a moment to realise that he hadn’t heard the front door open before it was interrupted by a beer bottle crushing his skull.

It’s best not to stare, the child’s mother whispered as she pulled him down street, away from the man he still strained to look at. People had started acting weirdly recently, and no one would explain why he couldn’t talk to them or ask why their skin looked like old clothes they’d outgrown.

He wanted to ask his father, but his mother had locked him in the basement after he’d gotten sick and spent all night screaming. As she pulled him down the alleyway and clutched the bag of food tightly with her other hand, the boy gripped the basement key he’d found tightly and smiled as he thought about seeing his father that night.

Three Sentence Stories (Part 4)

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Ever since my father died my mother has been locked in their room, talking to herself. It was so lovely to hear her laughter for the first time today that it took me a minute to realise I heard my father’s laugh as well. I wish she would have let us remove his corpse from their room.

There is no light coming in through the windows. There hasn’t been for days, not since the insects began swarming at the windows and doors to my house. I try to calm my children as we hear buzzing and skittering from the chimney.

Grave robbery wasn’t the most immoral job in the world; after all the only real difference between it and archaeology was time. This thought calmed the man as he began prising the coffin lid open. He paused to wipe the sweat and dirt out of his eyes, which stopped him from seeing skeletal fingers reaching from inside the coffin to take advantage of the gap he had provided.

 

Two Sentence Stories (Part 6)

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The grown woman standing before us smiled as she told us that she was our long-lost daughter, who had finally found us after reading about our success online. I welcomed her into the house quickly while my husband started looking online for immediate-effect life insurance policies again.

It didn’t take us long to realise that the tide wasn’t coming back in. We chased the water through sand, rock and coral and over the corpses of suffocated sea creatures, right up until the edge of the endless hole.

I can feel my cat kneading my stomach with her claws as she takes advantage of my sleep paralysis. I keep my eyes shut to avoid hallucinations and squeeze them more tightly when I hear my cat scratching on the outside of my door.

 

Lost Souls

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I recently received my copies of Lost Souls, a collection of short stories published by Flame Tree Publishing.

This book features my first published story, Shut-In. I was absolutely shocked when I received the email to tell me it was accepted. Opening that email and almost crying as my boyfriend held the bag I shoved into his arms is a fantastic memory for me. Maybe not for him. He thought someone had died.

It’s a beautiful book, although the shine makes it difficult to photograph

Goth lighting
Flash! A-ah!

It is a beautiful book, and I am in incredible company

Routine

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Every day I follow the same routine.

It’s not a compulsion, I just see no need to change it.

I wake at 7:30, am showered and dressed by 8, and I’ve eaten and left by 8:15am. I arrive at my job at 8:50 and work from 9 to 1, when I break for lunch. I eat in the break room and make small talk with my co-workers. At 2 I resume my work, taking a 3:30 tea break. I leave the office at 5:10 and am home at 6. My work isn’t rewarding, but it is steady and my co-workers are nice enough. At the end of each day I return to my home where I live alone, with no one to interrupt my preferred way of doing things.

This routine was followed precisely for years before I noticed that I was even doing it. One morning as I was leaving the house, I was struck by a feeling of absolute panic. It was as though my stomach was at once hollow and filled with immense weight.

It was 8:16 and I have never run faster in my life than I did to catch that bus.

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Two Sentence Stories (Part 5)

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I have spent months in this ship, drilling towards the centre of the earth in absolute isolation. I tried to ignore the screaming and the banging on the sides at first, but now I can hear my father whispering how he really died.

I had heard the saying that if you love sausage you should never find out what it’s made of, and that is very true for the new butcher shop in town. However what disturbs me more than finding out what the ingredient is, is just how happy I am to keep eating there, particularly with an employee discount.

As I stand frozen, I can hear growling and the pacing of monstrous claws on the other side of my front door. I was so sure I’d remembered to lock it this morning, after I’d kissed my children goodbye and promised them I’d be back once I’d gathered enough food.

Sketches

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This guy is the living personification of the word “moist”
Don’t worry, it knows what it’s doing. The bad part is that you don’t.
There’s something growing inside me. I don’t think it’s leaving me much room.

Three Sentence Stories (Part 3)

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It has been four days since the dead began to rise, to devour and infect the living, and three days since I locked myself and my wife in our basement, with the dead pounding at our door. My wife is sure that she can think of a way out, while I think we face certain death, either by starvation or a much more violent means. I scratch at the bite mark hidden under my sleeve, look at my sleeping wife and remind myself that this will be quicker.

There is a man in the house with a knife, prowling as I hide in the closet. I breathe as quietly as possible, my heart pounding in my ears as I wait for him to turn to leave. I don’t have a weapon, but I’m sure that my reactions will be quicker than a paranoid old man searching for intruders in the dark.

I am unable to sleep at all on this holiday. I thought that staying in a house built into a sandstone cliff would be quiet, but I can hear what sounds like chatter from neighbours late at night. I don’t think it would bother me as much if  the voices and laughter were coming from a side that wasn’t supposed to be solid rock.