Pumpkin WifePeter loved pumpkins. He reveled in the squash: the texture, the taste, the smell. Halloween was the time that they were revered, worshiped, receiving the attention he believed they deserved. It was the time when they were everywhere and he relished those moments. To him pumpkins were perfection come to existence.Pumpkin Wife1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Peter, do you love me?"
Her voice strained to overcome the chattering of other couples as they walked through the field.
"No, why would you ask that?" Peter bent down and picked up a pumpkin, his eyes fixated on it.
"It's just that we've--we've been together for a while now. And I-I thought that maybe you'd fallen in love with me?"
"It's been two months," he said setting the pumpkin down in its former place.
"But we're basically living together, you can't tell me that doesn't mean something."
"So what, it's easier for you to stay with me. Right?"
"Maybe, but--you really don't love me?"
Peter's gaze ventured from the pumpkins to her, he scrunched up his nose at the word 'love
The TransferIn recovery after the transfer, surgeons assured me I was alone. Six hours later, the anesthesia is wearing off...and there's something slithering beneath my new skin.The Transfer5 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Your Fun Size Horror Story!Your Fun Size Horror Story!16 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Your Fun Size Horror Story!
A 100-word horror story for Halloween
You cannot halt your gluttony!
From their bowl, the Fun Size candies tempt you, “Eat us, Tubby!”
“Leave me alone!” you scream, unable to stop gobbling them down.
“Never, Fatso! Eat!”
“Oh my gawd,” you moan with pleasure, decadent chocolates filling your mouth.
“Soon, you’ll be Fun Size like us,” they chortle.
Your waistline thickens. The candy bowl magically refills. As if possessed, your hands reach for more candies.
“I don’t want to get fat!”
“Fat is fun! Eat up, Chubs!”
Just then, your pants seams split. A shirt button pops off. Your new potbelly bulges obscenely, filled with fun.
PoltercatI always considered myself a person of reason, and of course, at the time I had reasoned that the boxed cat on the passenger's seat of my automobile couldn't possibly be the one I had run over.Poltercat3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It was a common breed, with a common coat. Statistically speaking, the identical hanger on the identical collar could have been a freak occurrence, though wholly explainable by chance, given enough cats with non-matching accessories being run over on a global scale on a daily basis.
Coming home, I had just enough time to unbox the animal and reach for the telephone, before I learned that my great-aunt had died in hospital, and I realised that my 'guest' was now promoted to heirloom and my official property.
-”Auntie's dead,” I told the scraggy thing. It blinked, once and slowly. 'I know' it seemed to imply, somehow smugly.
And that was that – for that day.
I woke up to the smell of coffee – an unfamiliar thing, given my bachelor's life. The brew sat
Eyes Like Gift HorsesLoud clacking as my train rounds the curve. The view of the city shakes. Reading the ad for "Poor Little Rich Girls" raises a lump in my throat. My train roars as highrises take over the windows. The woman on my right slides her arm into my lap. I lift her wrist with my index finger and thumb. I see pores in her whitened skin, cracking at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes look through me, dilated pupils reflecting the fluorescent flicker overhead. She smells old.Eyes Like Gift Horses3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The recording announces Chicago and Franklin. I hold the doors with my arm, squint inside the car. Nothing of value left behind. My shoe thuds against the wooden platform. Creaking all the way down the stairs.
Three blocks down, there's a store with my favorite wine. I step around a reclined man. He is looking straight past me into the sun, which is overcooking this city. It was overcast, before. I have my umbrella under one arm. I wish something would wash away the stench. I throw a quarter at the coffee cup lying on the pav
Dearest, ListenListen to me, dearest. I know you can't hear my voice, but my words will be spider's silk and candlelight, and if I whisper them long enough in your ear I know you must one day believe them.Dearest, Listen2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Listen, dearest: I am always with you. You need never fear darkness or loneliness or despair. I am with you, heart and soul. I know you can see me only in your dreams, but I am always at your side. I am always watching over you.
Dearest, I will never leave you.
I will drive out your nightmares and kiss away your tears. Nothing will lurk behind the veil of night to claw at you in your sleep, for I will forever be your shield. I will comfort you when nothing else can.
Listen, dearest – listen. Listen to my gossamer voice, and know that I am with you. Know that I will never, never leave you.
But it is lonely, always watching you unseen, always whispering to you unheard. It is lonely, touching your hair but never feeling.
It is lonely, and it is cold.
Listen – don't you wish you could see m
She Said She Wanted to Be With Me ForeverShe said she wanted to be with me forever. I don't know why she had to scream so when I was only doing as she asked.She Said She Wanted to Be With Me Forever6 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
LIN 203: Willing Blood ParticipantsA headache pounded within the confines of the blood demon's skull. He gritted his teeth and tried to focus, but his eyes slid off the page of the book he was reading. He swore he'd tried to read this paragraph twenty times by now, but none of the words stuck in his mind. He tilted his head back with a breathy sigh and closed his eyes, then pushed the book off his bed. Clearly, research and illness did not mix, and the sickness that had consumed him seemed to have only gotten worse over the last couple of days.LIN 203: Willing Blood Participants1 week ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
His raw eyes relished the chance to relax. He hadn't learned much at all from the book, though he felt like he had a sense of the teachings just from an instinctual level. The question was what strengths and weaknesses came from using the blood of willing participants, and perhaps just as important, the strengths and weaknesses of using the blood of unwilling ones. He knew there were some nuanced differences, like an unwilling participant who was awake during forcible blood drawi
SilentThe monster under my bed was screaming. Now it’s silent.Silent5 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Our Mermaid SwampOnce there was a young man who lived alone in a wood cabin, overlooking a large swamp.Our Mermaid Swamp4 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
One day, while on a walk, he saw something bubbling under the thick green algae, among floating logs.
As the man continued to watch, he saw the head of a boy break the water's surface. Their eyes met.
He's looking at me
The swamp water was cold. Far too cold, it seemed, for anyone to risk swimming. The water was stagnant and brown. Why such a beautiful creature would live in such a place seemed disturbing.
There was quite a lot of screaming, but a net and a fishing spear worked well to subdue and pull him out of the water.
Now you are caught
"No, STOP! Please! Let . . . me go"
The young man brought the boy inside, wrapped in the net.
"It's alright. Stop struggling. You're safe, out of that disgusting swamp"
"Why are you doing this? I was just swimming! I just . . . wanted . . ."
The man filled a bathtub with lukewarm water and put the boy
Christmas LightsThe lights twinkled as they approached. Shoppers moaned as the doors to hell opened.Christmas Lights1 hour ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Point finalPoint final4 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Oh, Salomon, glorieux menteur !
Je vous déteste !
Je vous déteste au point de vouloir vous arracher les viscères et vous embrasser en même temps. Il faut vraiment avoir aimé quelqu'un pour le haïr à ce point, vous ne trouvez pas ? Oh que oui, je ne m'en cache pas. J'aime vos yeux gris de poussière, votre nez droit et ce retroussement de vos lèvres quand vous souriez. On croirait un serpent qui montre les crocs. Mon éducation me pousse à vous voir comme la tentation la plus abjecte, le péché le plus ingrat. Il faut donner pour aimer et nous ne pourrons jamais donner tous les deux. C'est incorrect, j'en conçois. Vous n'oseriez pas imaginer les pensées qui me viennent à l'esprit lorsque mes yeux se posent sur votre carcasse de prédateur. J'ai envie de vous mordre et de vous dévorer le coeur pour qu'il soit mien. Croquer dans le fruit défendu et goûter le jus amer d'une victoire interdite.
RingingJim liked working summer evenings. He was grateful for the pastor allowing to dig the graves the night before, so the heat wouldn't get to him. While other men sat out in the dwindling evening heat, their wives washing dishes, Jim was content with shuffling past headstones, some of the safety bells tinkling in the wind. Everyone told him that keeping himself busy after his brothers recent passing would keep Jim sane.Ringing10 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
As he walked through the rows, preparing to ready the soil for the towns latest consumption victim, a lanky canine figure jogged up beside him. The local coyote--allowed on the property to keep smaller vermin away--had come to keep him company. Jim bent down to pat him on the head.
"Beezer, sometimes I think you only hang around me because I feed you." He chuckled.
The animal stayed by him as he stopped at the designated site. Jim started the work straight away, steadily moving the earth beneath him, Beezer lying close by watching. When he was about halfway through his wor
mirror zombiesMy reflection stopped talking to me today. I think he's dead.mirror zombies14 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Ekim's almost the first thing I see every morning. There's a full-length mirror on my closet door, and my bed is positioned so that when I sit up in the morning I'm staring right at it. When I woke up, Ekim was still there, sitting up at the exact same time in the exact same way – well, not the exact same way. He still sat up and walked around like he's compelled somehow, but if I stopped moving and held still, Ekim wavered a bit, listing back and forth like one of those really tall buildings in a strong wind. When I looked closely at him, like in the smaller neck-up mirror in the bathroom, I could see his eyes were unfocused.
This morning, I thought he was just sick. But he almost always responds when I rap on the mirror, and he always responds if I rap twice. I rapped twice fifteen times, thirty times in all, and he never looked at me.
Then I went to the supermarket. I caught glimpses of him in the glass doors in the
7 Nightmares of Halloween Pt. 7: I, Monster7 Nightmares of Halloween Pt. 7: I, Monster17 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
This one is probably the most personal one I’m willing to talk about.
I had it shortly after a number of big arguments with people I don’t like, so I was in a kind of “I-hate-everyone” mood. I collapsed into bed, and fell asleep pretty much instantly.
When I awoke (in the dream), I glanced out the window to see the world was a stark black-and-white hue. The full moon was high in the sky, and all that anger and resentment and hatred towards everyone is still stewing in me. I slide out of bed. I’m really frickin’ hungry all of a sudden. Leftover meatloaf sounds good.
I glance down at my feet as I head for the door, and freeze.
My feet are… wrong. I walk into the light from the kitchen, and stare down in shock at my body.
It’s hard to describe what I’ve become. It’s thicker than before, powerfully built, filed with more tendons than muscle or bone. It’s coated in thick, shaggy hair, with long, thin claws tipping my fingers
Rotten Candy "Trick or Treat time, Mommy! Trick OR Treat!" Shouted Naomi. She was tugging on her blonde wig, and snatching up her plastic pumpkin bag. I had told her she had to wait fifteen more minutes. She sat and stared at that clock completely motionless like a coiled spring, but once the second hand hit the twelve on that last minute she let out all that compressed energy. She bounded around the house, checking her reflection in every mirror she happened by. "Mommy, Mommy! Let's go!" Naomi ran past me to the door. I still needed to clean up the mess we'd made with the face paint. "Mommy we are gunna miss it! Gunna miss it!" she fell dramatically to the floor at my feet, knees bent, hands folded. "Lord, tell Mommy she needs to hurry up or sh'll make us miss Halloween." She had her eyes open, glaring at me while I wiped up the last few sparkles.Rotten Candy3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Hey now, you know better than to ask for those kinds of things. How about we ask for a safe Halloween?" I suggested as I we
7 Nightmares of Halloween Pt. 3: Endless Winter7 Nightmares of Halloween Pt. 3: Endless Winter4 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
In this one, I’m sitting in a small cabin in the Adirondacks in the middle of winter, reading a book in a corner, while the sun sets outside. There’s a fire in the corner, and there’s a wonderful heater in the basement – despite the bitter chill outside, the heat within is warm and soothing…
I glance out the large picture window, and notice it’s unlocked, and barely a crack open. There’s a bit of a nip in the air, so I head over to close it…
The wind suddenly picks up, and the window shutters begin to bang gently against the house. A few flakes flutter gently into the room…
Suddenly, the freezing wind blasts into the room with the force of a cyclone. The fire is snuffed out in a heartbeat, and without the warming light, the room grows dark, horribly dark…
The voice is high and raspy, piercing into my ears like the howl of a buzz saw.
I try to leave, to turn, to get away, bu
UntitledFinding work as a mechanic was a far cry from what he’d hoped to do. It had been a hobby, not a chosen career path. His real interest had been solving disputes between people or groups, not tinkering with car or motorbike parts. It made a waste of all he’d learned in three or so years of university. English, law, both foreign and domestic and an elective in the form of psychology.Untitled2 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Fixing cars was a long step down from that, even if he was good at it. Seymon sighed, then cursed as grease splattered across his shirt. The spots looked like black ink marks against the white t-shirt.
Still, it was something to do to keep the boredom at bay. Too many of his… kind- it was still awkward to say ‘vampire’, aloud- let themselves go to play games or manipulate people, hurt them for fun. Even Katya wasn’t entirely immune to that effect. He’d learned it well over the course of the year he’d shared the apartment with her. Was still sharing with her, in
31 Days of Spook: Day 23"Keep on them, Fluffy! Don't let them get away." Finch followed the small Volcarona through the maze of Matahari's Capital City's slums. The cut-purses they were chasing were using the back alleys to try and loos them. But Fluffy was on the tails, but she was slowing down, hesitating. They must have split. Each taking a different path. "Follow the leader, Fluffy," he called up and she renewed her chase. Finch followed on foot, keeping an eye out for the others.31 Days of Spook: Day 231 week ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Fluffy stopped her chase and circled above him. The one she was following had stopped. Finch pulled out his swords and moved to face the man. He didn't notice the other sword until it was pulled out from his back and he was face down in the sand. The last thing he saw was a flash of fire before everything turned black.
7 Nightmares of Halloween Pt. 1: The Hand7 Nightmares of Halloween Pt. 1: The Hand6 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
This is the oldest nightmare that I can remember; I must have first had it around age five, and after that, it came around at least once a week for over a month until I learned the rules. After that, it stopped.
As I wake up, late at night, I swing my legs over the side of the bed to get a drink. An instant later, a single hand – greasy, hot, and covered in coarse, matted black hair, tipped with something between broken nails and dull claws – shoots out from the darkness under the bed and grabs my leg.
I do not scream; the instant I hitch in my breath to do so, the hand tightens sharply, and I know what it means for me if I scream – about the same time I realize that it is not pulling hard enough to move me.
At about this time, I remember the rules, and how it works, from how I was awakened from previous nightmares. Yet, I never realize it’s a nightmare this time.
I may move around. The arm attached to the hand stretches out, without bone, without muscle, to all