Festival of Drabbles 2015

11907210_10207157992403978_6668859959254713566_o

I LOVE 100-word stories! Well, obviously. Or else I wouldn’t have written 100 Nightmares. This is why I’m proud to announce that I am a supporter of the First Festival of Drabbles 2015!

The first Festival of Drabbles will start on November 9th and run until the 15th. It will be a week long celebration of drabbles and the art of drabble writing including some of the finest drabblists in the world.

Fellow author Michael Brookes was the one who came up with this brilliant idea. And I’m very pleased to be invited as a participant. If you’re new to drabbles, they are a form of flash fiction in which the story is told in exactly 100 words.

If you’re on Facebook, feel free to join the event! Invite any friends that you think would be interested and share the event on your timeline. 🙂

https://www.facebook.com/events/375605662648575/

If you’re on Twitter then tweet a link to this event and if you can use the #festivalofdrabbles hashtag that would be awesome!

See you there!

xx
K.Z. ❤

Throwback Tales: The Hole in Her Soul

The Hole in Her Soul
By K.Z. Morano

Every night, spirits visit her bed like an orgiastic parade of shadows… taking turns in penetrating the hole in her soul. She’s sad and vulnerable. She used to fake it in school, lying on the floor, rolling her eyeballs and mimicking an epileptic seizure. She would gibber in an alien tongue and spout sinister phrases like “worship me” or “I will kill you”… Unoriginal, but it gets them every time. She has a histrionic personality… an attention whore just like me.

Tonight, it’s my turn. I slip inside her hungry, hospitable hole and she fits perfectly like a skin glove. There’s just a kind of softness in the female body that I like. So I make her pick up the knife and start mutilating the most tender parts… her breasts, her nipples, the delicate inside of her thighs… She chews on the meat and it saddens me that there’s no one around to witness.

I try to think of her body as an easy-to-use rented vehicle. Eventually, I’m going to have to turn her over to the others. I don’t own her. But I want to. So I leave a mark. Her fingers tremble as she carves my name on her belly. We have fun for a little while. We do the things that she likes. Like going to church…

Everyone eyeballs the shabbily dressed lady as she walks down the aisle in the middle of ‘The Fraction’. She’s all skin and bones now. Cuts mar her arms and there are eggplant-colored bruises on her pallid skin. Cobwebs of saliva drip from her palsied mouth. She walks with a limp because I’ve kept her for myself for several days and we’ve been having so much fun together.

As the priest breaks the unleavened wafer of Christ, she grabs one of the small crucifixes and I make her pleasure herself with it. Horrified gasps leave every throat; the faithful’s faces whiten. People make a huge deal out of it. I love it. The last thing I want is to fade into anonymity. Prying hands start grabbing her arms and I fight them off with the strength of ten men. Incoherent prayers bounce off the church’s walls as the people mutter Hail Mary’s and the Lord’s Prayer as if their tongues are on fire. For once, they actually mean it.

The priest starts sprinkling holy water on us and it irritates me. I decide to put on a show and make her skin seethe into pink mist, exposing some skeleton. The praying stops only to be replaced by terrified cries. Some people hide, shaking behind the pews; the others start rushing towards the exit. It takes a lot of strength from me, but I seal the heavy wooden doors by sheer will. I want… no, I need an audience. When my laughter pours out from her mouth, the sound is like breaking mirrors. I want to do more things, to show them more tricks. I want them to tremble… to question their faith. But more than that, I just want to be noticed.

The other spirits use this body for small acts… unlike me, they refuse to go all-out. They’re more concerned about lingering in this world… using her physical form as a tool to exact their petty vengeance, to cling to earthy possessions and to relive the pleasures that they’ve missed. So they use her up little by little, masking themselves behind a diagnosis of psychosis. They carefully preserve her body, maintaining its undernourished yet active state. She deserves better than that. She deserves better than to live her life in between episodes of mania and depression and states of fugue. She deserves to be immortalized.

The racks of candles collapse and scarlet and tangerine tongues lick their way towards the altar. The life-size crucified Christ falls face down onto the ground. Soon, her physical body fails me. So I allow her to faint as several men pin us to ground. People try to put out the fire. The priest starts yelling for me to get out. As if he’s so clean… as if I couldn’t see his ugliness from within. He says a prayer and mimicking his voice, I recite it with him. His words are useless to me, though I can deceive him into believing that he had won.

But he’s not the only one attempting to evict me from my new dwelling. The wind screeches in my ears. The other spirits have arrived. They hover above us like a bunch of ectoplasmic hounds fighting over a bitch in heat. Their lugubrious moaning makes the air quiver. The room trembles with their collective rage and the windows start breaking, showering everyone with flying slivers of rainbow-colored glass. Blood patters into streaks on the walls. Like their fallen Christ, people lie face down on the floor. The so-called holy man assumes it’s all me and I can picture his bowels turning into liquid. He screams his abracadabra, mumbo jumbo louder and louder. They place the cross against her chest and squeal: “In the name of Jesus, depart!”

I hold onto her body for as long as I can. She’s more to me now than a breathing puppet to move around with my spectral strings. She’s my home. If I were to leave, I want to be remembered. And I can tell that’s what she wants too. So I gather myself for our final performance.

The people’s satisfying screams splinter the atmosphere, sounding like applause to my ears, as I use the last of my energy to unzip her flesh, slowly… I linger long enough to hear the men’s unholy shrieks as they realize their baptism in her blood while holding onto her crudely severed limbs.

Suddenly, I’m ectoplasm—buoyant, beautiful, as I float and fade into nothingness.

But I stare into the priest’s eyes and catch a glimpse of the abyss.

There is a hole in his soul…

and it’s waiting to be filled.

Copyright: © 2014 K.Z. Morano
Note: First appeared in Demonic Possession, JWK Fiction, July 2014, Editor’s Choice Award

Purchase link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LGWQH1M

The Din from the Garbage Bin

Copyright-Kent Bonham

Copyright-Kent Bonham

While walking home, Anne heard the disturbing din from the garbage bin.

At the back of her apartment building were oversize rats gnawing at something.

Tampons lay there like small gutted animals. Week-old blood and cottony innards spilled across the pavement, filling greedy snouts and thick hairy tongues.

Disgusted, Anne tried to shoo the freak rodents away.

The vampiric vermin hissed at her, their eyes crimson coals of hatred burning through the darkness.

She ran up to her apartment and bolted the door.

Her fingers failed to reach the switch as the glowing red eyes came rushing towards her thighs.

100 Nightmares on Google Play

Just a quick note: You can now purchase 100 Nightmares (epub version) on Google play!

button-google-play

If you haven’t read it yet, now is a great time to grab a copy. 😉 Tell your friends.
And reviews are always greatly appreciated.

xo K.Z.

Words and Whispers

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

He rarely left that desk.

For years, he ensorcelled the public with haunting stories spawned from his imagination yet refused to bask in the brilliance of his fame.

Some dismissed it as cheap tactic, speculating that there was no single mysterious author but a group of ghost writers.

Fans camped outside his fortress. The media met only with agents of glib tongues and swollen pockets.

They said he answered to disembodied whispers.

His last words were jumbled letters carved into the ancient desk, engraved into emaciated flesh…

Indecipherable, except for the words: “Free us” penned shakily in sick, diluted blood.

I’m alive! :)

I’m alive! Yes. I’ve managed to survive typhoon Glenda (Rammasun). Sure the entire house shook violently for hours and the city currently looks like crap, fallen trees everywhere… and there’ll be no electricity for like 1-2 more weeks but we’ll survive! We Filipinos have always been strong. Still, we need your prayers… especially the families and individuals that are greatly affected and have lost a lot. Some people lost EVERYTHING. Please pray for them.

I do have some happy news. A new horror anthology is out. NO SIGHT FOR THE SAVED— featuring the illustrations of brilliant artist Niall Parkinson and stories and poems from various writers. My 4,000-word short story “The Father” is more like a Dark Fantasy piece than a horror tale. I hope you grab a copy and enjoy it. 🙂 An illustration for each story… This book is the complete package! Kindle and print version available at Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LRQ6VKY/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_dp_1NcXtb1W0MBY8

10527468_10152590506219669_50819074338772493_n

I also have an awesome new interview at Indie Author Land— home of Independent authors and fans of great fiction. You can read the interview here: http://www.indieauthorland.com/archives/9466/Kindle-eBook/why-you-must-read-kz-moranos-100-nightmares/# Find out Why you must read KZ Morano’s 100 Nightmares If you’re an Indie author or a supporter of Indie work, you should definitely check out this site. Lots of great interviews, free books from different genres and more.

Thanks a lot for sticking around and for visiting my site despite my frequent absence. Take care and be safe! xo ❤

If Wishes Came True

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Kelly Sands

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

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

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…