Tuesday, 15 October 2019

October Frights Day 6: Inktober


For today, the last day of the blog hop I have some visual stories for you.

I've been doing the writer's version of Inktober over on Instagram where you write a 50 word story for each day's prompt. I thought I'd share a few of the graphics I whipped up. Enjoy.







If you'd like to see more of my Inktober writings, check out my Instagram.




 So that ends the last October Frights post for this year. 
Be sure to hop on over and check out the last offerings of the other participants as well. 
Here's the list.


Monday, 14 October 2019

October Frights Day 5: Killers and Demons.


Today I'm showing off the new covers for my horror series, Killers and Demons.
I think they're spiffy.


Killers and Demons



Sometimes the villains win…

This time the heroes don’t rise, there are no knights in shining armor, and good doesn’t triumph. It is time for the villains’ story.

Craving a little blood or perhaps some horrific death? Slake your gruesome thirst for vicarious thrills with five chilling stories that go inside the twisted lives of serial killers and beyond to the dark, disturbing company of demons. Turn the pages and delve into the dark and murky world of evil.

The Tales:

A woman wakes up afraid, alone, and in complete darkness.
A collector of hearts stalks Valentine’s Day.
One man on the edge of being London’s most famous serial killer.
Hell has a bounty hunter.
Demon vs. knight with one soul as the prize.

Killers and Demons, where the macabre murderers don’t get caught and evil triumphs.
Come watch the blood drip slowly, sweetly from their fingers.


Killers and Demons II: They Return



Evil is back, with a greater appetite for death.

Killers.
Demons.
They lurk forever in the shadows, smile at you in the morning, and haunt your dreams at night. You can’t hide, you can’t run, and there’s no escape. You can only scream when they come for you.

Killers and Demons II: They Return is a collection of thirteen tales, blending short stories and flash fiction, tales where the blood lingers on your tongue or spurts quickly from the swift cut.

The Villainous Roster:

Wade, every parent’s nightmare.
Hannah and Mr. Greeley. Who is the victim and who is the villain?
Simon and Zoe, a married couple who are dying to be single again.
Norman and his "cookie" of a wife, Mabel.
Millicent and Jane, a delightful duo you shouldn’t invite to your Regency tea party.
Amanda, who literally has a skeleton in her closet.
Balthazar, the demon bounty hunter on the hunt once more.
Sarah, a young woman going through some changes and craving new tastes.
Emmeline, hanged as a witch, now back from the dead for revenge.
Gabrielle, a woman haunted by shadows.
The Dollmaker, she showers death, and an umbrella won’t help.
Nightmare Demons bent on driving a town insane.

And then there’s Alice, a little girl locked in the basement by her Daddy…

Together they form a spine-chilling cadre of predators. Who will survive and who will fall?




So that ends today's post. Be sure to hop on over and check out the offerings of the other participants as well. Here's the list.

Sunday, 13 October 2019

October Frights Day 4: Dark Drabbles




Today's offering is small but spooky, with three drabbles...



Knock, Knock 

The grandfather clock in the hall ticked in unison with Sally’s fingers as she drummed her digits against the stone fireplace. She barely breathed, her only movement beating against the hearth. 
Tick, tap. Tick tap. Tick, tap. 
She crouched by the iron grate, staring into the cold ashes. She murmured, repeating the same soft words. 
“Can you hear them? Knocking, knocking at the mirror? When it breaks they’ll get out.” 
Suddenly her hand stopped and Sally looked up. Somewhere in the hall, a tapping sound reverberated in unison with the ticking of a clock. 
And somewhere glass began to crack. 





 Underneath the World 

Can you feel it? That sensation of peculiarity? A strange reverberation of the uncanny running beneath your feet. A thought or two, perhaps the earth is alive with… something? Your step quickens as the twilight deepens. You avoid shadows, and the thickening mist. Who knows what eerie perils lurk in the hidden places? Best not indulge any curiosity. You want to make it home alive. 
And there you are, hand on the door, home. Safe at last. All imagings left in the dark. 
Yet… are they truly imaginary? 
What if it is all real? 
What if there is no escape? 




Aftermath 

In the boneyard, the ashes rained down, velvet grey petals coating the bare ground in a soft layer of soot. Above, the sky still flared with hues of red and purple and the few remaining trees were shrivelled and cracked. 
The automatons sorted piles of remains, as they always had, more broken skeletons stacked weekly as the mechanical retrievers brought in the flesh-stripped corpses. It was the way of things now, the clean-up. Years since the end, but the routine went on, a cycle of programming and efficient energy cells. 
One apocalyptic war, billions dead, and only the machines remained.



So that ends today's post. Be sure to hop on over and check out the offerings of the other participants as well. Here's the list.

Saturday, 12 October 2019

October Frights Day 3: Dark Poetry Corner




Today I bring you my Dark Poetry Corner, with three poems dripping blood...





Rhythm

Can you hear the drumbeats pound?
Thump, di di dum, thump, di, di dum
Calling, calling, against the midnight moon

Can you hear the drumbeats quiver?
Thump, di di dum, thump, di, di dum
Singing, singing, to raise the dead

Can you hear the drumbeats quicken?
Thump, di di dum, thump, di, di dum
Screaming, screaming with the darkened moon 


Now the drums fall silent
and the midnight air is still
The dead emerged from the dark
in blood have claimed their due






Ghost

A reflection 
dancing in a silver mirror
A whisper 
floating past the staircase
An echo 
of footsteps in the hallway

You ignore what you can
tremble at the rest
You never thought...
You are afraid
Alone
Surrounded by 
the consequence
of what lingers
Surrounded by
your death





Shadow of the Grave

I can feel Death creeping ever closer. It lingers in the shadows, its footsteps outside my door. Soon I will hear the knock of its bony fingers and I will let it in. Then we will sit, Death and I, and talk as friends before I save good-bye to this mortal world.

In the night, knocking
A shallow breath, a cold shade
Hello, my old friend


And today I come bearing gifts as well. Until October 15 you can download one of my Horror Haiku books from Prolific Works for free!


Horror Haiku and Other Poems


Download for Free



So that ends today's post. Be sure to hop on over and check out the offerings of the other participants as well. Here's the list.

Friday, 11 October 2019

October Frights Day 2: Scarecrow

A little creepy story for you today...




Original Image by Screamenteagle from Pixabay


Scarecrow


The air smelled of damp earth and moonlight glistened off the dying corn stalks. I shivered when the cold wind hit my face. The field seemed to stretch for miles, dozens of decaying plants and a grassy meadow beyond. I didn't recognize any of it, but it felt familiar. Something else felt familiar too.
I was scared.
Fear cramping my gut, I crouched behind the withering stalks to hide from… I wasn’t sure. I slowed my breathing, peering between the vegetation, staring into the shadows and the shifting moonlight. I listened, but heard nothing. Slowly I rose and glanced towards the distance, wondering if I could run.
Where? Where would I run?
A dark shape caught my attention. Something stood at the edge of the corn rows. As light drifted into the gloom, I saw outstretched arms, a figure wearing a straw hat, stuck on a pole. I sighed in relief. Just a scarecrow. Then I frowned.
Funny, I didn’t notice it before.
I tried to look away, to search for an escape, somewhere to run, but I kept staring. It drew me in, this black silhouette of a raggedy man stuffed with straw.
Wait, did it move? Must have been the wind.
Except there was no wind.
I shuddered, unable to break my gaze from the scene. Its spindly arms grasped the pole and thrust itself off, the scarecrow landing on the ground with a rustle of grass and a faint thump. I whimpered as it turned and I saw its contorted face and black eyes. I shivered at the sight of its lopsided grin.
I’m dreaming, I must be dreaming.
Straw crackled loudly, too loudly, and the creature lumbered towards me, arms outstretched, fingers curled like claws. Bile and terror surged in my throat but I couldn’t move. It lumbered closer and closer, my brain screaming, but my feet refused to budge.
Run, damn you, run!
But I stood, as immobile as a statue, until I felt the thing’s breath on my face. It stopped,  somehow staring with black button eyes. A hand lifted, touching my shoulder. My body went cold and rigid and I screamed. When the sound of my fear faded, I heard its raspy voice speak, even though it’s painted smiling mouth didn’t open.
“Come with me.”
Only then did I bolt, wrenching away from its grasp, stumbling over my feet, racing through the dusky field and across the moonlit meadow. Running, running, always the dim edge of the field in sight, yet…
I glanced back. The scarecrow stood in front of the corn rows watching me. I tripped, falling to my knees. For a moment I closed my eyes. When I opened them I was back among the corn, the scarecrow a foot away.
What is happening?
The plants rustled and the scarecrow moved, kneeling down beside me.
“Stop running. Accept what is to come. What you lost.”
“Accept what?”
“You know.”
I shook my head, terror consuming me. The thing reached out a hand, but I shrank back. If it touched me again, I was done. I knew that.
“Stay away! Stay away!”
I crawled on all fours before scrambling to my feet and racing away from…
I don’t know. I don’t know. 
Whatever the thing was it would be the end of me if I let it near. It’s words triggered something in my head, a voice, almost like a hazy memory.
Time of death, 1:59 PM.


That's it until tomorrow, remember to hop on over to check out the other participant's offerings as well. And come back tomorrow for my dark poetry corner.


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