Do Not Disturb
“KEEP OUT!” said signs in six different languages. Wish I’d learned to pay attention in just one. Hopped the fence and went fishing anyway – now I’m the one on the hook.
Last thing I remember, I snuck into the freakshow – didn’t pay, who’d do that? – and it all went black. Now my arms and legs won’t work, cat’s got my tongue. Who are all these people pointing and laughing? At me?
This night, this hour, the stars align, the blood of newborns flows, the pyre burns hot and, finally, my incantations will be heard! Arise, Ancient Dead Thing, and we will glorify you till the end of all time! I command you… OWWW! LET GO OF MY LEG!
Alone on the platform long after midnight. Relief! Clatter-rumble-rattle-clack approaching in the tunnel. OH MY GOD THAT’S NOT A TRAIN.
6 Beats Under
Visitors done for the day, gates locked, a peaceful hush descends with the night – this is my favourite hour for wandering the cemetery paths. Can you hear the faint tap-tap-tap of the live ones? Is it so very cruel of me to tap-tap-tap back?
Internet date, hot guy, delicious body, cheesecake smile. Why would he pick a girl like me? Felt like he was a total faker, so I lured him back to my cave and ate him.
“Just a flu virus”, they said, “stay home and rest in bed”. Didn’t mention the coughed-up blood, the innards congealed to mush, and the free after-lifetime membership of the stumbling, groaning, hungry, rotting dead club. Braaaaaaaaiiiiiins!
Knock knock? Is there anyone home? Mama, what’s happening? Why does your skin glow green and your eyes burn red? Is that you, Father, paying me an unexpected visit again? Would you like some tea?
I wake outside a ruined crypt at midnight, drenched by the pluvious mist. Yet, despite the dankness of the air, my throat is parched, my body wracked with fiery thirst. Water, water everywhere, and not a drop of what I must drink.
What Big Eyes
Such a handsome man, such strong muscles, thick black hair, long fingers and white teeth! We had such a romantic evening stroll – until the full moon rose above the trees. Then everything about him became… too much.
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Album art – “He told me not to even breathe” by Joganelken. See joganelken.deviantart.com
Micro Horror Scenarios by Karina Wilson, horror expert. See litreactor.com/team/karina-wilson