If Wishes Came True

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Kelly Sands

Curdled clouds came… hovering, descending…
ingesting everything in their way.
The world was painted in black, white and gray.
I opened my mouth and out poured a soundless scream
as if we existed in a silent film.
Then people started floating…
Their bodies bloating,
Fat limbs flailing,
Dancing in an eerie pantomime…
Intent on leaving me behind.
I cried after the corpse balloons as they flew towards the ashen sky,
gazing down at me with pupilless eyes.
Their decaying mouths opened and closed in an inaudible song.
Then I remembered my last birthday wish…
For everyone to leave me alone.

Hi! Thank you to everyone who sent me birthday wishes last week. I’m really sorry that I was unable to return some of the visits. I’ll read as many stories as I can this week. xox ❤

The Voice

PHOTO PROMPT
Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

I was taking a dump when god spoke to me.

The sky tore open and a spear thudded onto the ground.

He ordered me to sacrifice my father to him.

It was the same god who ordered me to slaughter my sister… the same god who provided the spoon that I buried into her soft skull.

I was born and raised in this hellhole… old enough to know that god is everywhere.

God sees everything.

There’s nowhere to run… or hide.

God said something about ratings going up.

And that only one of us will get off this island alive.

Hi FF family. I’m soooo late, I know! 🙂 But I promise to read a few stories over the weekend. BRB xo

Invisible

Copyright -Jennifer Pendergast

I’ve always wanted to be the popular girl.

But not this way.

They talk about me, forever and ever…

How I got pregnant…

Molested by the janitor…

Had an abortion…

The lies accumulate… every schoolyear.

In a roomful of giggling, gossiping girls,

I feel more invisible than ever.

Even as they talk about me…

How I cut my wrists in the toilet…

Hanged myself from a tree…

Then haunted my tormentors.

Lies.

My tormentors grew up fine.

They probably became your parents.

You cry at the rooftop.

Like I used to…

I whisper soothingly in your ear:

Just one step…

Homecoming

PHOTO PROMPT Copyright – Erin Leary

Hi everyone! I missed a few FF challenges but I’m happy that I’m able to participate this week! Thank you to those who helped spread the news about the release of my book, 100 Nightmares. Support and even positive reviews came from people that I least expected it from so that was such a pleasant surprise. Thank you so much, you know who you are. 🙂 The book is actually doing fine, great reviews from horror sites and everything, so yay! 🙂 Now to my story…

Homecoming

My earliest memory was that of my father disappearing into the silver fog.
I cried out his name… first word I ever spoke… but he just kept walking.
Then his replacement came.
A silent semi-man…
He’d lock the doors and mother’s screams would splinter the air… They were of unexplainable pleasure… and pain.
“Hithh thill your father…” mother said as her teeth clattered onto the floor.

That was history.

Then the mist called me…

When I return, I hope my wife would remember what I told her.
To aim straight for the head… and to never look into my eyes…

100-word story at Hellnotes

Hi everyone! I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted my usual weekly micro-fiction piece. But then I just wrote like a hundred stories and it’s summer here so I won’t apologize for that 🙂 Meanwhile, check out my recent 100-word story at Hellnotes Horror in a Hundred. It was inspired by this week’s FF photo but it would’ve been unfair if I joined but didn’t have time to comment on other writers’ works. So I’m glad the story found a home in Hellnotes. 🙂 Hope you like it.

http://hellnotes.com/horror-in-a-hundred-cattle-by-k-z-morano

Feel free to like/ comment/ share. Thank you. 🙂

Guitar Girl

Copyright – Björn Rudberg

Guitar Girl

He sits me on his lap. He clutches my neck.

His fingers strum my ribs.

My body shivers and sings, spurred into life by his sorrow.

I tell myself I’m his instrument… bought, kept… the sounds that I make—of pleasure and pain—fine-tuned to his every mood.

He tugs at my damaged strings and inside my hollow chest, my stifled screams echo for as long as we’ve been together.

His hands tighten around my throat while he convulses in sadistic satisfaction.

Sometimes, I dream of black body bags… of finding reprieve when he zips the world away from me.

I’m late! Sooo late. But I have a legit reason for that. I’ve just released an eBook! yep. 100 Nightmares is now live at Amazon.com, Lulu.com and Smashwords. I created a blog post yesterday, right here A reblog of that post would be wonderful 🙂

Thank you so much to those who supported me from the very start of this project. If you like horror/ my writing, it would be awesome if you could grab a copy and leave a review. 🙂 A fair warning though, most of the stories in the book are way darker than the ones I usually write for FF. (less than 20% of the stories there were from FF– the rest, all new) 🙂

Thanks again! xo K.Z. ❤

The Rescue

Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

The Rescue

The fructification chamber is where they harvest thoughts… from children, mostly, because they have the grandest imaginations.

They sit, inhaling the drugging vapors, their brains imprisoned within their curious fantasies.

Their dreams nourish the now lackluster world… the very essence of their visions, their hopes, even their nightmares, extracted to create an elixir for the exhausted.

The clients are mostly artists, filmmakers, writers who have lost their touch but refuse to give way.

Surrounded by lazy curls of smoke are rows of orphaned and abducted children.

He unstraps a girl from the chair
and screams at what’s beneath the helmet.

Hi FF family! I’ll probably be late in reading some of the other stories. Another busy week for me. It’s Holy Week and i have a very religious family and i need to seek atonement for my sins. (takes a few days) lol so I guess that’s a pretty legit excuse 🙂 Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers for two years now! Wow. And thank you as well to the people who provide the photos to inspire us every week. this week’s photo is from Douglas M MacIlroy.
Here’s to many more years of great writing and meeting new friends. xo

Turn Around

Copyright-John Nixon

Every day, the sky is a cauldron churning with hell’s wrath.

Every night, the stars watch my back like a constellation of vengeful eyes.

A voice hisses through the trees. “Turn around.”

I don’t.

The ligneous limbs reach for me.

“Turn around.” The voice mimics my wife’s.

I gaze ahead, not knowing who or what’s behind me…

“Turn around, daddy.”

I stop.

I’ve forgotten what she looked like… why we were so ashamed of her… why we felt the need to bury her ugliness in these woods.

I’ve been walking for a long time.

Maybe it’s time to turn around…

Read my story Wooden Lips in MicroHorror

If you missed Wooden Lips in Cellar Door II, you can read the reprint here

http://www.microhorror.com/microhorror/author/k-z-morano/wooden-lips/

Leave a comment below the story if you like 🙂 I’d love it.

PS MicroHorror is constantly seeking submissions. It’s a non-paying market but it’s a place for horror writers who wish to gain some exposure (particularly those who write flash fiction)

want more of my stories? watch out for the release of 100 Nightmares
Like the page https://www.facebook.com/100Nightmares or be a part of my Cover Reveal Blog Blast 🙂 10 awesome people signed up since yesterday. Join us? 🙂

Spring Finally Came

Thank you so much to everyone who liked my FB page for 100 Nightmares
Now I need to ask you guys for a favor.
I’d like to run a Blog Blast for the cover reveal of my new story collection.
Help me spread the disease word.
I’d give you my soul in exchange but it’s so filthy, you probably don’t want anything to do with it.
Please email me at crazyaboutmiumiu2@yahoo.com to let me know if you’re in.
I’ll send you a preview of the book cover and the description.
Thanks so much in advance for your support 🙂 -K.Z.

copyright – Adam Ickes

Spring finally came…

I toiled in acres of buried bodies and the breeze babbled with our parents’ timorous voices.

Like everyone else, I murdered mine.

Mother’s eyes reflected the hunger that I felt…

So I shattered the mirror that was her face.

Her screams were like breaking glass– fragmented, crystalline.

The village was cursed with cold barrenness but because of our sacrifices, the earth became fertile once again.

It bore new a new kind of fruit.

The fleshy pink contours inside the crustaceous covering resembled our elders’ faces.

We ate… but the fruit left a bitter taste in our mouths…