Tag Archives: horror

My Published Stories at “Theme of Absence”

I’ve been devoting the vast majority of my fiction writing lately to my own blog, but I do have two of my stories published elsewhere. They don’t appear on my blog because one of the conditions of publication was that they be totally unique works.

Both of them are at Theme of Absence.

The first story, The Anything Box was published last September, and tells the tale of a lonely teenage girl’s encounter with a strange object and how it connects her to her deceased Father.

The second story is called The Stalker, and it portrays another teenage girl’s meeting with something incredibly horrible while hiking in the woods. I had originally written it for a Halloween contest (I lost), but it ended up being published in general stories.

I haven’t mentioned them in a while, so I thought I’d dust them off and present them again. Each story is just under 1,000 words so they’re pretty fast reads.

If you have a moment or two, click the links, read my stories, and let me know what you think.

Thanks.

The Day the Kid Got a Stuffed Animal, Part One

baby

© James Pyles

My eight-year-old grandson Landon has been reading books from R.L. Stine’s “Goosebumps” series and wanted to write one of his own. This is the first part of his first novel (probably more like an extended short story). The first parts he narrated word for word. Then it made more sense for him to tell me how he “plotted” out the story, and then I paraphrased what he was telling me.

He asked if I’d publish his story here on my blog so my readers could have a look. I think he’s really looking forward to your comments, so don’t be shy (do be kind, though).

Remember, this is a child’s first attempt at writing a horror story.

Chapter One: The Birthday Present

One day a kid named Dan was playing with his family on his birthday. “It’s time to open presents”, said Dad.

I said, “Okay, Dad.”

First, Dad gave me his present. I opened it. It was a little stuffed animal. There was a tag on it that said “Baby”.

It was a giraffe he found at a garage sale. It’s head was facing the wrong way. I awkwardly said “Thank you” to Dad.

Then my Mom gave me her present. I opened it up and it was a bow and arrow. I hugged my Mom and said, “Thank you.”

Then, a while after the birthday party, for a second I thought I saw the tail of the giraffe move, but I thought that maybe it was just a breeze making it move.

And then, I looked at the giraffe and it’s head went up and it looked at me. And I started screaming and running for my life.

Continue reading →

Curse of the Rising Mummy

mummy ct scan

from Llvescience.com

The Eleventh Story in the Adventures of the Ambrosial Dragon: A Children’s Fantasy Series

It had been almost a week since Landon had first encountered The Mysterious Mummy, and in spite of the initial scare he had gotten, the eight-year-old’s visit to Cairo seemed more or less ordinary.

Okay, it wasn’t ordinary. He was visiting a foreign country for the first time in his life, and he was playing with Dr. Salib’s grandchildren Adjo, a nine-year-old boy, and Nuri, a seven-and-a-half-year-old girl.

They spoke only broken English, and Landon couldn’t speak Arabic at all, but they managed to communicate and have fun playing with each other.

They couldn’t play right now, though. They were at The Egyptian Archeological Institute in Cairo. Grandpa’s friend Dr. Salib was the Director of Archeology at the Institute. Adjo and Nuri were really proud of their Jaddi or Grandpa. He was so important. Landon started feeling a little jealous because his Grandpa didn’t have such a big, important job like that.

Maybe the kids couldn’t run around and play, but today was still an exciting day. Three days ago, the lid of the sarcophagus was removed, and today, Landon would get to see the Mummy!

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When Sean Met Sally

goth

Image: mookychick.co.uk

From the Unlife and Curse of Sean Becker

This is an open police investigation, so why am I involved? Because my boss, private detective Aidan Burke is paying me to be involved. More to the point, Conrad Grey, a wealthy commercial real estate tycoon, hired Burke to find his only granddaughter, thirteen-year-old Marianne. The kid went missing almost two weeks ago. LAPD thinks she’s a runaway. Grey thinks she’s been abducted. That’s why I’m walking the streets, contacting my informants, trying to get a lead.

Oh, by the way, my name is Sean Becker and I’m a vampire.

Officially, I can’t be licensed as a private detective because I’m dead. I work as Burke’s assistant by night, and sleep in his spare bedroom by day.

Being a vampire, I can cultivate information sources the police would never get close to. A few are other vampires like me, some with legit night jobs, others living on the edge of society, making it anyway they can.

Continue reading →

Never Bother Sally When She’s Eating

iZombie

Promotional image for the iZombie television show

Sally used a rock to crack it open and get at the yummy, gooey center. She took her spoon out of her rucksack, licked off the leftovers from last meal, and dug in.

“Mmmm. Still warm.”

The sun had just set as she pulled her already dead prey into the ravine. Sally liked privacy when she ate. He’d been an easy kill. Lone hikers usually were. Hide in a bush, leap from behind, and then a quick head twist to snap the neck.

She never realized how much fun being a zombie could be. Sally loved the taste of brains.

I’ve probably violated all kinds of zombie lore by making my zombie intelligent, but dumb zombies aren’t really interesting.

Some people have found it disconcerting that I’ve made my vampire Sean Becker so human and reluctant to feed on human blood, so I thought I’d create Sally in this 100 word piece of flash fiction.

She likes the taste of brains and doesn’t mind killing at all.

I wonder if Sally and Sean should meet?

The photo is taken from the iZombie TV show and is of actress Rose McIver in the role of zombie Olivia Moore.

The Demon’s Cup

demon's cup

Buck was a strange old man, but he had the best collection of vintage science fiction and horror paperbacks and comics in Las Vegas. Every Saturday, I ride my Schwinn Sting-Ray to “The Fantasy Express” looking for rare or out-of-print books. I’m only twelve, so my budget is small, but one of the things about Buck is that he gives big discounts if he likes you.

“I see you’re staring at the Demon’s Cup. Interested?” Buck jerks his thumb up at the object of my interest on a shelf behind him. He takes it down and puts it on the counter.

“What is it?”

“Legends say it’s made from a pigmy skull sacrificed to demons.”

“How much?” I picked it up. It was really metal and maybe bone and it was heavy.

“Ninety-nine cents.”

One of Buck’s special bargains. I had the money, but how would my folks react?

“Not today, Buck.”

“Your loss. Someone else will buy it soon.” He picked up the skull goblet and put it back on its shelf.

I finished shopping and felt relief as I walked out.

Buck had a week to sell the artifact before the curse of the Demon’s Cup claimed him.

This flash fiction story was inspired by a photo prompt at Sunday Photo Fictioner. You can read other submissions to this writing challenge at InLinkz.com.

When I was twelve years old, I really did ride my bike to a used comic book and paperback store in North Las Vegas every Saturday. I don’t remember the name of the place or the owner, but in retrospect, he wasn’t that old, maybe in his early 50s. He talked a lot about serving in the Navy during World War 2.

He didn’t sell cursed artifacts, which is lucky for me, but my comic book and paperback collections swelled thanks to my shopping there.

When I saw the photo, imagination collided with memory, and here we are. I just hope Buck makes it okay, but I feel sorry for the person who buys the cup. And to think my friend tried to foist it off on me.

The word count limit for this challenge is 200, and I just barely made it.

The Prayer

church

© KayllistisQuill.com

Gary was the only one in church. Everyone else was dead or changed. He was temporarily safe. They dared not enter a Holy place. But soon hunger and thirst would force him outside to forage. If he prayed hard enough, maybe God would have mercy. His wife and children were killed in the first attack, but his little granddaughter Lisa was changed and part of the Zombie horde. “Please save her, God.”

A voice whispered, “He did, Papa. That’s just my body, not me.” Gary wept as his family in Heaven reassured him they were safe and waiting for him.

I didn’t find any flash fiction writing prompts in my email inbox this morning, so I decided to go looking for some. I found three at KayllistisQuill.com. The instructions say to pick one of the three photos and write a 15-minute story. I decided to change things slightly and do the usual “100 words” limitation. I also decided to write three different stories based on the three photos presented. This is number one.

This story is exactly 100 words long.

The next story in today’s series is Over the Edge.

Daylight

tour boat

© The Storyteller’s Abode / Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

It had been sixty-two years since Sean Becker had last seen the light of day. He had been thirty-five years old when he was murdered in the early morning hours of July 23rd in his native Los Angeles. Cause of death was a mysterious loss of blood.

For six decades, Sean walked the night and shunned the day; a creature whose name was only whispered in dark secrecy: “vampire”.

He first encountered Dr. Elizabeth Woods as she was leaving work at London’s Biomedical Research Centre. He stopped attacking her when she cried out that she could help him. Woods was developing treatments for rare blood disorders. Fourteen months later, she’d cured his.

Woods wanted to run more tests, but Sean was more interested in taking in the daytime sights. Tears streamed down his face as he boarded the tour boat.

I wrote this as part of a flash fiction writing challenge. The challenge is to write a flash fiction story with a word count of 100-150 based on the weekly photo prompt you can see at the top of the page. Find the challenge at Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.

To read the other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit InLinkz.com.

Once again, I “blame” Iain Kelly, since reading his work, including his response to this challenge, has inspired me to write more flash fiction. I brought this one in (not including this after-statement) at 148 words.

The Monument

burhanpur

Burhanpur – Image: Adventures365.in

The Moti Mahal monument in Burhanpur, India, can be found on the bank of the Pondhari River to the southeast of the village.

Ross Hunter graduated from San Francisco State University four months ago and had been wandering the Asian subcontinent ever since. With a Bachelor’s degree in Communications and a $100,000 inheritance from a recently deceased grandfather, Ross felt this was the best way to spend his time.

He especially liked ruins and this one was particularly compelling. He was visiting the palace on a day when there were no other tourists. He’d come by rented motorcycle which was a lot faster than walking and a lot safer than hitchhiking.

He wasn’t seeking anything in particular, which is why it came as such a surprise when he found something, or rather, someone.

Continue reading →

The Voice

woman nagging

Image: BlokeSupport.com.au

Won’t she ever shut up? She keeps going on and on and on about the most inane topics. I’m losing my mind. I’ve done everything I can to put up with her, but she keeps running her mouth and I think I’m going to die.

There she is, lying at my feet, her throat opened literally from ear to ear. Her blood’s pooling under her. I’m sure it’ll ruin the kitchen’s hardwood floor but I don’t care, do you hear me? I don’t care. Just to add punctuation, I take the knife I killed her with and throw it on the floor as hard as I can. It makes a nice dent and adds more blood splatter to the floor and cabinets.

I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I’ve done everything I can, but I can still hear her in my head. That incessant nag, nag, nag. It won’t go away. She’s dead and her endless monologue still won’t go away.

I walk over to the knife, stepping in her blood and tracking it across the floor. I pick it up, hold the blade to my throat, and do the only thing I can think of to make her voice stop forever.