Book Spotlight: 100 Word Horrors: An Anthology of Horror Drabbles

Today I bring you a book spotlight for one of my favourites types of stories: drabbles. Yes, I have a look at a new horror anthology consisting entirely of those wonderful 100 word delights. So read on and enjoy, as I present...

100 Word Horrors: An Anthology of Horror Drabbles

Drabble: A drabble is a short form of fiction that is exactly 100 words long (not including the title). 

Kevin J. Kennedy has once again brought together the best of the horror world to bring you an anthology that is packed with creepy tales. 

Between these pages you will find over one hundred drabbles, written by a wealth of talented authors. From the best indie horror authors to Bram Stoker award winners and Amazon top sellers. We have monsters, mayhem and madness. Come join us.

Contains drabbles by, Amy Cross, William F. Nolan, Lisa Morton, Gord Rollo, Michael A. Arnzen, Mark Lukens, Richard Chizmar, Rick Gualtieri, Jeff Strand, Kevin J. Kennedy, P. Mattern, Lee Mountford, Ike Hamill, Michael Bray, Andrew Lennon, Craig Saunders, Matt Hickman, Glenn Rolfe and many more. 

Praise for the book:

"A collection of terse, eerie, and delightful little creepers, each one like a swift uppercut to the solar plexus, proving that dynamite truly does come in small packages!"
--Ronald Malfi, author of Bone White

"Wow! With the amazing talent involved in this anthology, it's no wonder 100 Word Horrors is such a powerful gut-punch of horror!" 
--Joe Mynhardt, Crystal Lake Publishing

“A delicious collection of tiny tales of horror."
--Kelley Armstrong, author of Bitten

100 Word Horrors: An Anthology of Horror Drabbles is available on:

Amazon

Kevin J Kennedy is the co-author of You Only Get One Shot, and the man behind the best-selling Collected Horror Shorts anthologies. His stories have featured in many other notable anthologies in the horror genre. Kevin lives in a small town in Scotland with his wife, step daughter and his cats, Carlito and Ariel. 

Keep up to date with new releases or contact Kevin through his website. 

www.kevinjkennedy.co.uk

The Return of Drabble Wednesday: #OctoberFrights Edition

Welcome to Day Two of the October Frights Blog Hop!

And the return of my Drabble Wednesday Feature!

Yes, those 100 word stories are back, creeping into your mind like oozing blood. Enjoy my trio of macabre tales, of strange things lurking in the night...

The Hags

The Hags, that’s what the locals called it. The spot on the river where three gnarled trees grew, all bent and twisted like crones, half-dead and barren. An eyesore in the light of day, but in the moonlight the trees held beauty.

They held something else in the moonlight as well.

My two sisters and I.

We’re tied to the trees, you see, and the moon. Our magic bound to the spot where we died.

Where we were murdered.

They buried our bones under the roots, but our spirits...

Well, soon we’ll be returning to the land of the living.

~*~

The Price of Tranquility

The water of the canal is still, reflecting the pale moonlight and the illuminated clouds. The rows of houses are silent, their inhabitants drifting in dreams and hushed slumber. On the surface all is peaceful.

But only on the surface.

It has been ever so in this city, for a darkness lingers beneath the serene beauty. Under the still calm of the water danger lurks. Creatures old, and hungry, nesting in the depths of the canals, watching the world above.

Waiting.

Until they see what they need. An unwary human, the solitary one, the one who disappears beneath the water. 

~*~

No One Loves A Clown

Are you out there?

Somewhere past the dark?

I can hear you.

It’s so cold here, so cold. I can’t even cry anymore; my tears are frozen.

I’ve been here so long. Trapped in the cold and dark.

I know you can hear me. I know you are out there.

Is it a dream? Maybe. But you can still help me. Come a little closer.

That’s right, let me see you.

No wait, don’t run.

Clowns aren’t scary. Really.

We just want to be loved.

Closer, that’s it.

Aw, don’t scream.

You’ll like it here with me, and the others.

~*~

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved 

And if you'd like to read more of my horror stories I have a free offering for you. Just sign up to my newsletter on Instafreebie and download the two book box set of my Killers and Demons series.

Killers and Demons 

Or enter the giveaway for a chance to win my books and more!

October Frights Book Giveaway!

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And for more October Frights fun check out the other sites on the hop.

Drabble Wednesday: The Silent Bride

Today on Drabble Wednesday, a story in three parts as we walk down a terrifying aisle into a strange world of repression and anarchy...

Obedience

He signed the contract with a shaking hand. Finally to be wed at five and twenty. Most gentlemen his age had several matrimonial years under their belt, plus heirs. And here he must resort to a disreputable matchmaking service.

Quite the ignominy for his noble house.

“Are you certain she’ll be as I requested? Properly compliant?”

“Yes sir. She’ll never talk back to you.”

“Bring her in then.”

The ringing of a small bell ushered in his bride-to-be.

“Smile for your betrothed, girl.”

She did as bid, her mouth opening wide enough to show where they cut out her tongue.

~*~

Wedding Night

“She won’t say a word. Can’t, milord.” The constable cast his eyes downward in apology. “She’s mute. One of those brides from Conformist Matchmaking.”

“So, he went through with it. Now dead on his wedding night.” He strode to the woman sitting quietly in a corner, avoiding the corpse on the bed.

He knelt down, whispering. “You’ll hang for his murder.”

She smiled, her tongueless mouth in a gaping grin. She held up a bloodied left hand and slipped a dagger from beneath her skirt. In one quick motion she stabbed, and the grand Lord joined his son in death.

~*~

Revolution

The boy at the newsstand held up the latest edition, and screamed out the headlines to attract customers, “Conformist Bride Killer linked to Death Cult! Killing of Lord Everett and his son one of several dozen murders! Conformist Matchmaking under investigation!”

Nearby, two women listened, the older one whispering to her companion. “Our soldiers succeeded admirably. We achieved victory.”

“At a cost. Those women will hang.”

“Some will. Others...” She shrugged. “But many more were never detected. All the key men are dead. No one suspects our revolution. By year’s end the kingdom will be ours, and women will rule.”

 © A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved 

Drabble Wednesday: Ashen

Today on Drabble Wednesday, come explore the world of the pale, the cold, the stark and white...

The Pale Tree

It stood apart from the rest of the grove, growing tall from a small hummock. The rough bark of the tree glinted snow white with streaks of silver, its branches bare save for one month a year when it sprouted greyish buds. The only colour it showed came from a green vine twining around its trunk, and even it bloomed flowers of white in season.

Underneath the tree, entangled in its roots rested another layer of white. Slowly seeping into soil, nurturing it, those rotted corpses and bones of the poor victims buried alive.

Sacrifices.

To the Tree of Death.

~*~

Under the Frozen Earth

The sun sets on silence, and a vast frozen wasteland. No wind blows, no birds fly, not a sound breaks the settling of dusk on the world. Only the cold, the snow, and the deep frozen expanse that ever tightens its grip exist.

The cold and frost run deep. Down, down to the Old World, the world that once existed. A place of faraway dreams and summer. A realm that died in its own hubris, swallowed by the endless winter. A domain that yet whispers, locked in its prison of ice. Where the dead stare upward, frozen in their screams.

~*~

White Petals and Lace

Remains of the past.

One white rose and a scrap of ivory-coloured lace.

Resting next to a small silver box.

The pale kitchen curtains flutter in the breeze, and the sweet smell of summer grasses wafts through the window. If you listen, you can almost hear the laughter drifting across time. When the family gathered for picnics in the yard, when the aroma of potato salad and mayonnaise filled the room.

But those days are long gone.

Only the dead are left, with the last body now crumpled on the kitchen tile.

The poison from the silver box works quickly.

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Freaky Fan Fiction

Something different this week for Drabble Wednesday, a little nonsense, a little snark, a little fun with cartoons and sparkly vampires...

Acme Holiday

On an ordinary moonlit night, with the stars shining, night settles over a nondescript laboratory in the middle of an unnamed city.

Inside, tiny voices can be heard...

“What are we going to do tonight, Brain?”

“The same thing we—no.” There is a long pause. “I’m tired of this rat race, Pinky. The same thing night after night. We’re going on vacation!”

“Ooooh, Brain. Narf!”

“Narf indeed. Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Pinky?”

“I believe so, Brain. But where would we get the purple frilly tutus to wear on the teacup ride at Disneyworld?”

“To the closet, Pinky!”

~*~

The Truth About Manfredi and Johnson

Amidst sparks and the smell of fish, came the question...

“Are they ready, Kowalski?”

“Aye, aye, Skipper. Project Agent Clones is a go!”

Two years later...

“That’s the last of them, Skipper. The last of the clones are dead.”

“A moment of silence, boys, for the fallen. Manfredi and Johnson. The end of their line. Good soldiers, one and all.”

A hush fell, before Skipper continued, “A true tragedy, but really who could’ve predicted it. Struck down by a rogue herd of buffalo.”

“I believe it was bison, Skipper.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn it was buffalo.”

“No, it was bison.”

 ~*~

End of Twilight

Black scars and broken glass marred a once beautiful house, with its landscape razed to resemble a war zone. Over the trees rose smoke and an acrid smell wafted off the smouldering piles of ashes and corpses.

Across this recent battle ground gathered the victorious army, bloodied and weary. A lone soldier bowed to the commander.

“They are all dead, Count Dracula. Bella, Edward, their ridiculously named daughter, even the werewolves.”

“Good. Then the war is over! Those mutated abominations have been vanquished! True vampire kind has finally prevailed!”

A cheer rose with the smoke of the enemy's funeral pyres.

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Dark Feathers

Today on Drabble Wednesday we fly with our dark winged friends, and death...

The Termination Onyx

Across the sky shadows grew.

Mottled streaks of soft gray into coal black patches covered blue and spread through the white clouds. From the tip of the world to the farthest horizon the shadows crept, and when they reached around the planet, the feathers fell as rain.

Stygian dark and sharp as razors, they sliced through air and trees and flesh, and when they struck the ground the earth shook and cracked. Cities became ruin, mountains fractured, and seas boiled.

Apocalypse, the inhabitants called it.

Annihilation Day.

The Universe knew it better by another name.

The Day the Angels Died.

~*~

The Ravens

On darkling wings the ravens flew.

A black spot across the midday sun, the trio of birds soared over the meadows and the forests, past the farms and towns. Every door closed against them, every shutter barred to their presence. The people of Arajyn knew what the ravens heralded.

Every soul waited in fear for its coming.

Children sobbed, parents prayed. And gave thanks when the ravens passed them by.

Until the birds descended, roosting in a tree outside the village of Syarien. Every voice in that village wailed, knowing they had been chosen.

Sacrifices to the God of Death.

~*~

Black Wings and a Story

Tell me a story you said.

So I did.

But you didn’t like the ending, did you?

I can’t say that I blame you. I tricked you, just a bit. You didn’t know what would happen.

Now did you?

If you did, if you knew who I was, then you wouldn’t have listened.

Would you?

No one wants the Raven King to tell them a story.

For, you know, my stories are never free.

Their ending always come with a price.

Poor you. You paid, didn’t you?

You paid when I plucked out your eyes, and sliced out your tongue.

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: It’s Lonely in Space

Today Drabble Wednesday travels the spaceways, the great void between worlds where anything can happen...

Lost

Can you remember?

The planetary existence, the warmth of a sun?

There is no warmth out here, the stars are cold, distant. Dangerous. Like most everything. Even the smallest thing can kill you. Yet they send us out, and we go. Sometimes I wonder why. What appeals to us about black void of space? Wouldn’t we be safer huddled beneath the gentle stars, oblivious of the fate that awaits?

I wish I didn’t know. About the alien armada.

I wish I wasn’t surrounded by outlying stars, floating in an escape pod.

And most of all, I wish I didn’t remember.

~*~

Skitters

Can you hear it in the walls?

The scratches and the chittering between the bulkheads. Something’s in there, poking around. My lieutenant thinks I’m imaging it, says it’s just the older electronics on the station acting up. What does he know? He’s a newbie off fresh Earth Station, no real deep space experience.

Just listen. Down there by the open vent shaft. You’ll hear it good there. That’s it, right there.

You can hear them now, can’t you. All up close.

Please stop screaming. Someone will notice.

I’m sorry., but they said if I feed them, they’ll leave me alone.

~*~

Stasis

I wonder what day it is? Or what year?

It’s hard to keep track in this metal prison.

I can hear the hum and whir of the machinery, even feel the ship’s vibrations. I think. That might be my imagination.

Most people dream in these stasis pods, blissfully unconscious and unaware. But one percent stay awake. Unable to move, open their eyes, or scream. Trapped in their own bodies, marking time as they go insane, a perfectly preserved physical specimen until the pods opens.

Guess which category I fall into?

Stuck for fifty years as a living corpse.

Lucky me.

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Tears and Gods

Today on Drabble Wednesday, come cry with the Gods...

Consequence

Can one tear destroy the world?

I gaze out at the rising tide. I never noticed before how dark the water is beneath the sea foam and the waves.

Can sorrow bring annihilation?

The wind is growing stronger. The trees along the shore are starting to bend, and the waves are turning to fury.

Can one teardrop defile a sanctuary?

Soon the flood will reach this place and I’ll drown with the rest of my world. The gods took their terrible revenge for my trespass, hunted me for tarnishing their sacred soil.

So can one tear destroy the world?

Yes.

~*~

The Drowned Book

“Shush now. Quiet child. Don’t cry.”

“But, mother. I am afraid.”

“Why, child? You are safe here.”

“Can’t you hear the drumbeat of the rain and the persistent howl of the wind? The storms are coming.”

“Oh, child, there are no storms on the horizon.”

“But I can hear them. And the screams of the Drowned Book.”

“The Drowned Book?” She gasps, and stares at her daughter in grief-stricken horror. “Only the...” A sob whispers into pity, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Only the damned hear that accused voice. The gods are coming for you, my child. Be afraid.”

~*~

Hubris

Mercy.

How many times had they begged, shouted that word as his ax swung?

Too many times to count.

How many tears fell as he crushed their armies, as their fellow gods died?

Enough to fill a sea, enough to drown a city.

But they shed not one tear when they demanded tribute, watched their worshipers starve. They gave no mercy of their own, but wished it from him.

Fools.

He was their creature after all, fashioned from their discarded hearts and set loose to quell rebellion.

Too bad for them his mind was his own.

Now the gods scream.

 © A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved 

Please Note: Drabble Wednesday will not be posted next week due to a spotlight for a new book release. It will return the following week.

Drabble Wednesday: Silence

Today on Drabble Wednesday, travel with me past the noise, beyond the chatter into the eerie world of macabre silence...

Stares

Painted masks and mute tongues.

That thought races in my brain as I stare at the three shrouded figures standing in judgement.

In judgement? Yes, that’s how I feel.

I know they wait for me at the end of this dark corridor, bathed in a soft blue light. I watch them, fear shuddering through my body.

Why am I frightened?

Perhaps because I feel compelled to move towards them. Perhaps I cower because I’m screaming, but no sound comes from my mouth.

I don’t want to face them. 

Perhaps I fear my sins wait at the end of the corridor. 

~*~

Depletion

It is peaceful here.

In this empty room. Only four walls, a floor and a ceiling.

Nothing else.

Not even sound.

Not even my own voice.

Then again, it is hard to speak without a tongue. I lost that appendage somewhere along the way. I don’t remember where, or when. A few other parts are missing too.

She took them, the little girl with black eyes. She appears sometimes and whispers in my ear. Her mouth never moves, but I hear her in my head. That’s when pieces of me go missing.

I expect she’ll take all of me eventually.

~*~

Flawless

Welcome to the Perfect Metropolis! Welcome to Solaris!

The flashing sign blinked noiselessly on the outskirts of the colony. A beacon leading into an urban sprawl of symmetrical spires and towers, all pristine silver and grey. Immaculate streets, no trash, no debris, no traffic.

Blocks of apartment complexes, office buildings, city structures, municipal centers, hospitals, security headquarters, laid out in neat rows. All lifeless. But not empty.

Robotic maintenance still moved, silent shadows doing their duty. Sweeping, cleaning, recycling the air. Keeping the oh so quiet city running.

While the flesh of the colonists’ corpses slowly rotted from their bones.

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Bitter Endings

Today on Drabble Wednesday all things must come to a end... sometimes permanently.

Turnabout and All is Fair

“Sorry my dear, we had fun, but a job is a job.” I raised my gun with a smile, an odd twitch in my hand.

She answered my smile. “I understand, and agree. So I hope you won’t mind what I slipped into your wine. It’s hard to pull a trigger with shaky fingers.”

A cold seizure gripped my gut. A whisper of panic fled my throat. “No.” The gun felt heavy... I couldn’t... “Why?”

“To clear my debt. I kill you, my last employer forgives my botching the previous job. It seems he didn’t like you killing his son.”

~*~

Last Piece

I feel the pain dig into my palm from the broken edges, and the sticky flow of my blood. I don’t let go. I can’t let go. It’s all I have left. A damaged picture frame and torn photo under half-shattered glass.

Unless you count their bodies. Buried in the rubble of our house.

I don’t know why I survived. One person in the carnage. Left in the wreckage of our life, our street, maybe the city. Hell, maybe the world.

I don’t know how far the war extends.

But I’m staying here, where my life ended.

Waiting to die.

~*~

Finite

When the clock winds down, the space between ticks seems infinite. Yet, it’s simply a wish, a hope for more time. We want a cheat, a reprieve, a stay on our execution. One more breath, one more kiss, one more chance at life. We want a another shot at all those regrets, things left undone.

In those last moments, it all seems so precious. We cling to it in desperation, knowing our fate is beyond our control. No one wants to die. No one wants the end of everything.

Now it too late. 

The death of the universe has begun.

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Nasty Things

Today on Drabble Wednesday, take a journey to the darkest underbellies of worlds beyond this realm...

Assassin

The oblique glances, the careful sidestep to avoid me on the street.

I see it. I see it all.

They are afraid. As well they should be, for I could snuff out their pitiful lives with ease. I am the creature society shuns, the thing those supposed upstanding denizens consider undesirable.

Until they need me.

Then they slink into my presence to toss their gold at my feet and give me the names of those they want killed. They hire their assassin and I do my work.

Then I kill the true undesired and drink my fill of their blood.

~*~

Imagined Things

Skitters in the shadows, incoherent whispers lost in the dark wind, thumps that make you walk faster, have you casting glances into the night. You scoff, while shivering. Your pulse races as you scold yourself. Only in your imagination. Not real. Just the mind playing tricks.

What if it isn’t in your head?

What if something truly lurks in the dark?

Because we do.

Bumps, bangs, and bogeymen. Skulking, creeping, coming out to play when the sun goes down.

We are behind you. Following you.

Waiting for the right moment.

And you won’t be going home tonight.

Or ever again.

~*~

The Ruling Elite

Everyone falls from grace. Sooner or later.

Riding high one day and in the gutter the next. I’ve seen them all.

The nature of this cesspool kingdom. Kings and queens think they can hold on to their power, but it don’t last. They lose their grip on the crown and they’re gone. And someone else’s ass is sitting on the throne. Until they get the boot. Or the ax.

Yeah, they all fall out of favour.

Or get pushed.

That’s where I come in. My specialty that.

For the right amount of gold.

A gal’s got to make a living.

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Frankie and Joni Continue

In a continuation of last week’s adventures Frankie and Joni return with more strange tales of virtual reality programming...

Aftermath of the Monkeys (Sea Ghouls and Zombies)

“Frankie, I can’t believe the company wants a simulation based on what happened last week.” I sighed, a headache forming. “Monster Combat. Sea ghoul vs. zombies vs. flying monkeys.”

“And don’t forget the puppets.”

Ignoring him, I continued. “At least these creatures won’t be real. I had nightmares until the last of those monkeys went home.”

“Um...”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “Frankie? Did you keep one?”

“A little one. I’m training him to run errands.”

I stared, my headache pounding. Frankie looked at me with sad eyes. I capitulated. “Fine. But I’m not cleaning the monkey poo.”

~*~

Monster Combat?

Stupid Frankie and his stupid monkey.

Grumbling under my breath I tossed a large bag of monkey poo into the incinerator. If the darn thing wasn’t so good at fetching our lunch orders I’d—

“Hey! You’ll miss it!” I turned at Frankie’s shout, and raced back to see the new game boot up on the monitor.

“Let’s get ready to Ruuumble!”

I rolled my eyes. “Stop clowning and watch for glitches.”

“Hmmm. That’s odd. They’re, um, dancing.”

“What?” I started at the screen. Ghouls, monkeys, zombies and puppets danced a jig.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have programmed Riverdance into the soundtrack?”

~*~

Virtual Therapy and Love

“I can still see it. The horror... you can’t imagine the sight of a zombie waltzing with a puppet.”

“Tell me, how did it make you feel? Did— zztzzttzzz”

I looked up at the grating noise. The holographic image of Freud jumped, and then frizzed out. Frankie stood waiting by the VR chamber door.

“Why did you stop my program?!”

“Um, we may have a problem. Zippy’s in love.”

“Zippy? Oh, yeah, your flying monkey. Wait, what? It’s in love?”

“With one of the puppets. I think they’re planning on eloping.”

Shit. I’m going need more therapy after this escapade.

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: The Return of Frankie and Joni

Today Drabble Wednesday goes back to the virtual world with the duo of Frankie and Joni…

Hologram Horror

“The quiet lays on me like a shroud, an ominous portent of the creeping night.” My words echoed through the VR chamber.

“Okay, fine and dandy, but are we going to do with the sea ghouls?”

“I was setting up a mood here, Frankie! Sheesh.” I sighed. “I don’t know. Stick them in the sky, hovering.”

“Um, that’s not what I meant.”

Uh oh. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t mean to. But we have extra ghouls.”

“Extra ghouls?” I looked up. Red eyes looked back at me.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

“I think we should run.”

Then the surplus ghouls chuckled.

~*~

Ghouls vs. Zombies

The door slammed shut just in time. I leaned against the titan-steel door listening to sea ghouls shrieking on the other side. Frankie stood next to me, wheezing.

“How did we get those things in the program?”

“Probably—wheeze—from the hidden—wheeze—file.”

With dread I asked, “Hidden file? What hidden file?”

Frankie took a deep breath. “The one marked Thursday. I opened it.”

“Why would you do that?”

Frankie shrugged. “Curiosity. But don’t worry. The zombies will take care of the ghouls.”

“Zombies? What zombies? And who will take care of the zombies?”

“The flying monkeys, I imagine.”

~*~

How to Solve Your Flying Monkey Problem

“Are they still flinging their feces?”

Frankie stared at the screen. “No. Now they’re throwing ghoul bits and zombie heads. Told you they’d take care of the zombies.”

“Yes. And the ghouls and half the VR equipment!” I resisted the urge to punch him. “They’ll destroy the whole chamber, heck the whole complex, if we can’t stop them!”

“I’d send them away first.”

“You can send them away? As in get rid of them?”

“Yes. Figured it out yesterday.”

“Then why are they still here?”

“I like them. They’re cute. We needed new equipment anyway.”

“Frankie! Send them home. Now!”

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved