Iron Maiden (flash fiction)

I cannot escape. I see and hear them, the hunchback inventor of this vile contraption and his patron, the King. “So, the traitor cannot move? And I wind this handle?”. “Yes, my Lord, that moves the spikes”. The smile was cruel. “Will I hear him scream?” “But of course, Sire”.

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The Barrow Bride (horror)

The darkness is absolute. I struggle and fail to raise myself from the cold stone floor. Too frail even for that. How long have I been here?

Shuffling steps approach, the sound brittle as dried leaves. The air is clotted with decay. A withered hand grasps mine.

"Welcome, my dear."

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Of His Own Making (50 Word Horror)

It's a difficult transition, David.

How did I get here?

You've made terrible choices, David.

I'm still young...I can change. Where am I?

In a horror of your own making, David.

What can I do?

I'm not here to help you, David.

Take me back!

This lasts forever, David

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Oct 27, 2023·edited Oct 27, 2023Liked by Justin Deming

Not close enough, fiction, horror.

Jules ran her fingers through the sea foam, lovely to the touch even if a bit stinky. The sun peaked between some clouds and highlighted something moving under the tidewater. Her first reaction was curiosity and second was to gauge the distance to the shore. She would not make it.

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Oct 27, 2023·edited Oct 27, 2023Liked by Justin Deming

SUCCUBUS, Hallowe'en fiction in 50 words

The poor creature hangs from the needle-sharp teeth of the Night Hunter. Near death, oozing blood, bones broken, the shrieks have mercifully ended. She carries the corpse to The Altar, in extremis, lays it down, gnaws off the head, licks her gory claws.

The nightly bloodbath of the felis catus.

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The Waiting, Fiction, Horror

She waits for the creature, and in the waiting she realizes it is worse than death.

For in the waiting there is no certainty, no finality to embrace and accept.

There is only a myriad of possible sufferings, too cruel to name.

It arrives. She wishes to wait some more.

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One Night Stand - Fiction

At last, she sleeps. Sulfuric breath rattles under her immaculate breasts. Her belly, swollen with hellish life only moments after their entwining, glows red. He hastily drags his pants over the scorched remains of his manhood. Fabric meets raw flesh, and he cries out in agony.

“Going somewhere?” she asks.

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Facing One’s Fears (Horror, Fiction)

The demon leered behind the glass. Gagging at its horrific stench, I recoiled in disgust. It mimicked me. Mocked me.

My fear became panic, then rage. It seethed in response. A crack amplified its putridity.


Looking closer I realised my life was over. This wasn’t glass, but a mirror.

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"Beware" - fiction

He never knows which one he'll get. The one with the kind face and happy eyes or the one with raging eyes and horror on his face. The one smiling at him or the one who would tear him apart if he only could. - Beware the man in the mirror.

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Bleeding Hearts (fiction)

Oh, he had it coming, all right. What is with people and their bleeding hearts? Forgiveness? Not this time, not ever.

Those who say the pen is mightier than the sword, have never felt the sword.

I am not a bleeding heart, but I make hearts bleed. I am king.

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The Mystery of the Woodland Murders

Thunder rumbled. The house in the woods was in darkness save for a dim lamplight indicating a lone occupant who had lived there all his life. Nobody ever discovered the whereabouts of nine missing schoolgirls from the neighborhood. Only Simeon Black knew, his eerie face illuminated when the lightning struck.

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Anton had been gone for thee days. Everyone was looking everywhere for him. He’d never be found. The rapist had an underground chamber hidden in the forest floor covered by leaves and sticks. Anton could scream all he wanted. No one could hear. The chamber was so incredibly deep.

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In The Woods (Horror)

“It is pretty,” Jenny said as they arrived at the campsite.

“Told ya.”

“Whoa. Justin, that tree just moved toward us.”

“You’re silly. It must be your imagination.”

They pitched the tent.

As they slept, a dozen trees circled the tent and crept closer. By morning, the tent had vanished.

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The Two-Story Man, Fiction

Katherine heard shrieking and ran to her daughter.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“A man at the window. I saw his face.”

“Jemma, you’re on the second floor. There’s no man.”

“He was two stories tall.”

Katherine didn’t notice where his breath had fogged the glass. Parents rarely do.

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Unforgettable || CNF

*I remember this moment a long time ago.*

He sighs. You say that every night.

*I must write this. It’s the perfect—*

—first line, he finishes, as he does every night.

In the notebook, the line repeats.

*I remember everything now.*

Yes, he says, you say that every night, too.

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Face it. Meg Oolders wins this challenge hands down today. This woman pulls out all the stops. I sometimes wonder what else she has in that head of hers and I am not at all sure I want to know.

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Scales of Justice (fiction)

The bully leaning back, feet up on his desk, savoring twisted triumph, notices something scratching his ankle. A chameleon is climbing up his pants leg, doubling in size with every step. “WTF?” shouts the bully. “My name is Karma,” the reptile hisses through sharp, bared teeth. “We have a date.”

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The Flowers, fiction:

"Don't mess around," she said. "You have the key."

"I'm serious."

She looked at him. "You left flowers in my room. And chocolates yesterday."

"Grace," he said. "I've never been in your room alone."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Then who was watching from the closet as I changed?"

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He woke. He knew something was wrong. It was moving. Whatever had bitten him was moving now, wanting out. Fear rose inside him as he sensed the creature turning, twisting. it pressed on his inner ear. Then the pain tore him apart as the gnawing began, pain you cannot imagine.

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That's what happens when the bun in the oven bakes at 6000 degrees in 9 minutes instead of 9 months.

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