Tag Archives: horror

Mondays Finish the Story – Devil’s Abode

2015-08-31-bw-beacham
© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

“The cemetery spread along the area known as Devil’s Abode.”

It’s where they used to bury the inmates that spent their life in prison or were sentenced to the chair.  The townsfolk didn’t want their ‘untainted’ souls mixed with the stained ones, so they plotted out another graveyard.  They don’t bury anyone in the Devil’s Abode now, since the Civil Rights issues.  It’s been all but abandoned out there.

I went to see it one time.  Curiosity got the best of me, I guess.  I was surprised it hadn’t become a tourist attraction.  I walked past the cracked headstones and dying trees trying to make out the faded names, when I came across a well-dressed man sitting on top of a slab, smoking a Camel.

“Good afternoon,” I said to him, with a nod.

He nodded back.

After a moment, curiosity conquered again.  “What are you doing around these parts?” I asked, trying to not sound rude.

After puffing out a cloud of smoke, he answered, “Business,” as he tapped the ashes onto the ground.


FFfAW – I’m Melting!

© Sonya O.
© Sonya O.

It’s starting.  I can feel like heels sticking: no way for me to tap them home.  My stomach is empty, but I can feel it expanding.  I hate bloating.  Ugh, I can’t swallow.  I can’t even open my mouth.  My lips are sticking!  I can’t split them with my tongue.  I just keep pushing, and I can feel the dryness of my taste buds scrape my bottom lip-  Ah, I got it!  No… my tongue just pushed through the top of my chin like 3-hour old bubblegum.

My eye just popped!  I can’t see out of my right eye!  I can’t see!  I just felt my left eye slide down my cheek!  I can’t raise my arms anymore!  My fingers are stuck together like duck’s webbing.  I can feel the change in elevation as my body sinks to the floor.

Stupid microwave.


Friday Fictioneers – Light at the End

© Stephen Baum
© Stephen Baum

Every time you feel that tenseness in your chest.

Every time you feel that sudden dizziness.

Every time you pass a semi.

Every time you cross a bridge.

Every time you take the stairs.

Every time you take the elevator.

Every time you look out the fifth floor window.

It could break.  It could snap.  It could be cancer.  It could be a stroke.  It could be a heart attack.  It could hit you.  It could drop you.

We are balanced on the tiniest head of a needle on a floating orb next to a giant fire star.

The End.

FFfAW – Boneyard Bustle

 

© Sonya O.
© Sonya O.

Buried beneath a boneyard of battered tombstones lies hordes of insomniacs that clatter through their stretched coracles.  Open eyes and empty mouths remain ingrained to their one-manned vessel while they should be traveling the tributary to hereafter, but inhumane mock mourners fancied Charon’s obol too overpriced to inhume.

I can still hear the hum of hamstrung hopefuls: murmurs of eager souls.  Restlessness resumes even after a formal curtain call if relatives leave residue from roguish relationships unresolved: irresolution to vocalize merciful verbiage in a favorable vein.  Oblivious people speak a hostile vernacular comparable to Narcissus himself, at least until their retributive day.

Speak honestly.

Speak openly.

Few claim to be clairvoyant.


Mommy Under the Bed

Copied from my post on nosleep.  


Another night of overtime.  This paycheck better be worth it.  It better be worth not seeing my wife, my kid, my home… my TV.

I got home late again.  I try to turn the key and knob so it doesn’t make any noise.  I can feel the deadbolt clunk back, I tiptoe inside, and lock the door behind me.  I quietly slip my shoes off and slink up the stairs.  It was only after I got into the bedroom and undressed that I realized my entire body had been tense since I got to the porch.  Something about being quiet tenses you up.  I slide into bed next to my wife, kiss her on the back of the head, and go to sleep.

“Daddy.”

I squeeze one eye shut and crack the other to see my son is standing next to my bed in his pajamas.  It’s still late, but he had turned the hallway light on.

“Yeah?”

“Mommy is under my bed,” he said.

“There’s a monster under your bed?” I asked, trying to wake my body up enough to be coherent.  Usually I could force some motivation, but I guess these long nights had gotten to me.

“No, Mommy,” he says.

“Mommy’s right here next to me.  Go turn the hallway light off.”

“Bu-“

“Now,” I demanded.  He scampered back out of the room and turned the light off.  As soon as it was dark again, my wife shifted comfortably back into bed.  Now that she was awake, I knew I had to get up to check on him.  I picked myself up on my elbow and sat up.  I felt incredibly weak, but I bent back over and told my wife I’d be right back.  I couldn’t see the bedroom in the dark, so I felt around until I grabbed my robe and walked to the hallway door.  My son was standing there waiting on me.

“Alright buddy, let’s go check it out.”  My eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness of the hallway, and I finally managed some energy.  I guess it was nice to see my son for the first time in a while.

We walked to his bedroom together.  I grabbed his hand, opened the door, and flipped on the lights.  I closed the door behind me to drown out some of the noise for my wife.

“Alright, buddy.  Let’s check this out.”  I knelt on the floor and bent down.  I collapsed.  My wife’s mutilated body laid twisted under the bed, her head snapped towards me and her eyes wide open.  I couldn’t breathe.  I couldn’t move.  But….

“Buddy, don’t look under here!”  I said, my voice rising and shaking.  I reached for her, every part of her body tense and strict.  Her skin looked dark blue.

“Daddy?!” he whimpered.  Hearing my son made me release some tension, enough for me to hear footsteps coming down the hall.

“Run and lock the door!” I told him.  He ran over and locked it, then we both scooted to the back wall and watched the doorknob jerk.

Sunday Photo Fiction – Anchors Aweigh

Joining another community with familiar faces.  Hope I’m not being intrusive at this point!  Check out others here!


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Another sleepless night after seeing so many fall asleep for eternity.  Not enough Trazodone, melatonin, and alcohol in the world can turn my waking mind off.  The door is locked, the curtains closed, the fan on, and my bed is cozy, but I have to keep my candle lit to fight off bad dreams.  I think it might be keeping me awake.

I can see the flicker of light and shadow on my bedroom wall dance around in harmony from being lit.  Sometimes I can see the bright and dark form into shapes, into figures, into people I know-knew.  The ghosts are making hand-puppets on my walls.  I can see the outline of the mother that raised me, and the father that brought her down.  I want to fix them; I want to join them.  I can feel the weight of my skin and bones clinging me to this bed like an anchor as I see my parents waltz in the flicker of candlelight and moonlight.  A few more pills, a couple more shots, and then I can join them in sleep.

Anchors aweigh.

Mondays Finish the Story – Angel Flame

Link to Mondays Finish the Story.  Check out the others- it’s a great community of talented writers.

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham
© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

“The crew of the Angel Flame received orders to head out.”

Five men, two pilots, two divers, and the captain, pack into the DSRV (Deep Submergence Rescue Vehicle) in search for valuable wreckage, bodies, and, God-willing, survivors.  The cruise liner rested at the bottom of the ocean, one half upside-down, the other awkwardly on its side.

The pilots and captain waited as the divers surveyed the wreckage.  The light from the submarine hardly did anything to light up the dark abyss, and the divers struggled to search efficiently.  They returned empty-handed.

As they returned to the surface, the crew of the Angel Flame swore they saw wisps of light hovering around and past their sub.  The souls of the drowned followed their angels’ flame back to the top.

The support ship on the surface above didn’t see any abnormal lights from their view.  However, just seconds after the submarine surfaced, a hundred dead bodies emerged on the surface of the water surrounding the Angel Flame.