#women horror writers

[witchqueenofthemoon]

via @curiousvolumes

[hauntedbystorytelling]

A Gothic visual dialogue · 1926-1979

Film still from The Sorrows of Satan (D.W. Griffith, 1926), starring Adolphe Menjou, Carol Dempster, Ricardo Cortez and Lya de PuttiThe screenplay was based on the Victorian gothic novel by Marie Corelli (1895)

Watch the film on YouTube ~ link to this scene : here [...]

Read the novel on Project Gutenberg : The Sorrows of Satan or, The Strange Experience of One Geoffrey Tempest, Millionaire, A Romance : eBook view & read more on wordPress

Cover design for Bela Lugosi's Dead, the first single by the English post-punk band Bauhaus, released on 6 August 1979

Listen to «Bela Lugosi's Dead» on Bauhaus Official YouTube channel

[its-in-the-woods]

Coyote Head - Part 3 - Head on a pike

master list

Part 1, Part 2,

Pairing: Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean 

Alternative Universe where I make things up cause I ca

Synopsis: Things are not always what they seem, a tossed house, a walk through the woods. What will they find...

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning:  Animal death, blOod/G0re, Alternative Universe, Slow Burn, Death, Aging, Family Feuding, Eventually: Older Man/Younger Woman, Horror themes, long form fic,

Note: that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. So you have been warned. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

Getting out of the truck, the door squeaks, as Lucy makes her way up the set of steps. She could see the madness of her living space, bookshelves toppled, art and paperwork strewn about the space.  Dozens of large dents are in the drywall. Every kitchen cupboard had been opened and tossed. Her bed flipped against the window, blankets scattered, pillows torn, stuffing covering the floor. It was as if a tornado had gone through her home and rucked up everything. She stood in the living room trying to comprehend what had happened. Her stomach revolted as she made her way to the sink, what little breakfast she had coming out into the sink. 

“Whoa, whoa,” Cooper said, coming over and rubbing her back, “It’s gonna be alright.”

Lucy's head hung as she turned on the tape, willing the sludge to go down the drain. She moved to grab a glass and filled it up. The man removed his hand much to her disappointment. 

“I was only gone for a few hours,” She mumbles, taking a sip of water, tears poking at the corners of her eyes. The whole house was upside down, it was as if someone had hit her in the stomach. She hadn’t lived there long, but it was still her home, the loss of privacy feeling so intimate. 

“Sure looks like they were lookin’ for somethin’,” Cooper says, watching Lucy as she sips the water, his eyes moving over the scene in front of them. 

“Nothing here but papers,” Lucy hisses, her head still spinning from the vomiting. The reasoning escaping her grasp, she had little to no possession, and it wasn’t like she kept money lying around. Her mind drifted to the reaction of her family members in the small lawyer's office. Was it possible this was something they had organized, maybe in a bid to scare her out of the place?

Cooper looks around, “Did they take anythin’?” His head turning toward the front door. The sound of gravel crunching under tires had them both looking out the window. Uncle Harris was out of his old truck with his 2-70 in hand. Face set in a firm grimace, as he made his way quickly to the front door.

“Don’t shoot,” Cooper chuckles as the man makes his way up the steps, holding his hands in the air in mock surrender. 

“Should shoot you on-site, you lead-footed bastard.” Harris grins at the man before his eyes went wide at the scene before him. “Jesus, Lucy, what happened.”

Lucy shook her head, digging around the upturned cabinets for ginger pills. She needed something to take the edge off her nausea.  “Not sure, left about two hours ago and came back to this.”

The two men walking up and down as Lucy took stock of everything around them. Despite the horrid mess, nothing seemed to be gone. The maps were destroyed, and a handful of bookshelves were mangled beyond repair, but that was minor. There were several large holes in the walls, bigger than a man's fist but smaller than a head. Not including a dozen smaller ones that could be mudded over. They’d need to be patched sooner than later. Of course, there was the front door and the fact that half the cupboard doors were off their hinges.  It all felt so daunting to look at, where would she even start with all of this mess? 

“I am gonna call Margie, get her to come help with this. I think I may have a door in the barn we could use for the front temporarily. Even if it’s just to keep the mice at bay.” Harris rattles on as Lucy gathers up things. She digs around and finds garbage bags and a broom to start cleaning.

“At least the table and desk are okay,” Cooper notes, helping Lucy pile all the papers onto the flat surface. His fingers lingering on hers as he hands her another stack. 

“What do you think did this?” Lucy asks, her hands shaking as she makes sure all the papers are there. Thanking herself for having backup copies stored in a cloud online, at least she didn't have to worry about any losses there.

“Looks human to me,” Harris said as he flips open his phone to call his wife while leaning against the broom. 

Lucy looks at Cooper, his hand up as if measuring the hole, “I’d agree with you Uncle. Thinkin’ if t’was an animal there’d be scat or other marks.”

Lucy looks at everything, there was no hair, blood, scat, or anything indicating that it was an animal. But it also didn’t feel right, predatory, and clinical, as if something was trying to get under her skin. Not human, but not animal either. It had gotten to her if she was honest, between the lack of sleep and hallucinations of black shadowy creatures. She was about ready to turn tail and not look back. But where would she go? This was her home now, and yes it had been turned upside down, but it was still hers. How could she leave the place her Grandpa had given her? She had never run from anything in her life, despite any hardships she had faced. 

Her Uncle left to pick up Lucy’s Aunt, as well as grab a door, some putty for the holes, and a few other pieces to help repair the damage. Lucy and Cooper spent the time gathering up what was salvageable and removing what wasn’t. Ever grateful she had kept the large garbage bin in the yard and had help to move stuff out. It would be a few hours of cleaning before the place was sort of right. It wasn’t really, the place felt darker, like the sun couldn’t shine through the windows. As if a heavy fog had been dropped over them. No matter how much they cleaned, it felt like the stain wouldn't lift.  It was like a greyscale filter being slotted over the space. 

As Margie and Harris came down the drive; Cooper left to grab his kids, he'd promised to be back with them. Lucy tried to focus on one stack of trash at a time. She really regretted quitting smoking right now, a smoke would be amazing. At least it would help calm her down for a few. She helped her family unload the truck with all the bits and bobs they’d need to make it somewhat livable, or at the very least keep out the mice. Maybe she needed to get a cat on top of a dog or two. 

Cooper came in with his two kids in tow, a little dark-haired girl with freckles, and a brown hair boy who looked strikingly like his Dad. Somewhere along the way, he had also grabbed his hat. Lucy found herself that hat, something about a man that could wear one without looking ridiculous was hard to ignore. They were both polite and said hello. It was not lost on Lucy how they took in the place, it was clear they had concerns. Magie had offered to make dinner for everyone, which Lucy and Cooper agreed to. Harris had also insisted that Lucy stay at his place for the night. Lucy was more than happy to take up the offer, the last thing she wanted was to stay overnight here without a lock on the door. 

Many of the cupboard doors needed to be fully replaced. Where the front door used to be was now a heavy steel one; that Uncle Harris had bought several years ago for a shed. They had even replaced the door frame. There was no deadbolt, just a handle and hole, but that would have to do for now until Lucy could get back to town. The smaller holes had been mudded, the large ones would need pieces of drywall. Despite everything the place looked somewhat okay. Lucy had even managed to put her small amount of groceries away. Despite the mess being gone, it still felt like the place was dirty. Like somehow the holes would reopen and the papers would throw about spontaneously. 

“Why don’t you kids head over to Granny’s place? Let her know we will be having dinner at Margie’s,” Cooper said firmly, handing the keys to his truck to Matthias. Janey whining about never getting to drive.  

“Don’t you worry, once you can reach the petals I’ll teach you,” Cooper said with a smile rubbing Janey’s head of curls. “Now run on home and make sure you’re cleaned up for dinner.”

Magie stood, stretching and kissing Harris, “We should be heading to make sure these hard-working folks got some food.”

Harris nods, before looking at Lucy, eyebrows raised in concern. “You gonna be okay with just Cooper?”

“Yeah, I think I will be fine. I am sure the two of us are more than capable” Lucy replies, plastering on a forced smile. “Just gonna walk the fields and see what we can see.”

Harris walks over to the new door, where he had set his gun, “I am gonna leave this with you along with a spare clip, alright? Get your gun license renewed, and some more ammo. But for now, I will leave that there just encase”

“Thank you, Uncle Harris,” Lucy said with a nod, adding it to her mental checklist. “I will make sure it gets back to you.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to use it,” Magie sighs as she follows her man out the door. 

Cooper watches them leave, before turning back to Lucy. “You good if we go for a walk? See what we might find,”

Lucy nods, Cooper grabs his gun placing it over his shoulder, and Lucy does the same along with the spare clip. It felt heavy, an uncomfortable comfort, she had hunted with her Granddad for years. But this felt different like she was the one being hunted. it felt like she was being stalked. Lucy was incredibly grateful that Cooper had offered to come along, she doubted she’d have the nerve to walk around here on her own. In fact, she knew she wouldn’t have gone out there without him beside her. 

Cooper turned towards her as they walked towards the edge of the forest, “You mentioned you thought ya saw somethin’ last night?”

“I was tired, thought I saw maybe a dog? Run through the yard.” Lucy answers, shifting the rifle onto her other arm. “I kept feelin like something was watching me ya’no.” 

“Mmmhmm, maybe a mountain lion came down,” Cooper adds as they look down at the ground, a well-worn trail in front of them. 

“Haven’t been mountain lions sighted here in years,” Lucy adds, she had never had to worry about cougars. Bears, wolves, coyotes sure, but cougars were different. 

“The Roths said they saw a Mom and cubs last spring.” Cooper ponders, Lucy liked how he took things seriously but kept his head on him. He never dismissed what she had to say. 

“Really? This far east of the mountains.” Lucy spoke, amazed that great feline beasts were back in the prairies. 

“Yeah grizzlies too,” Cooper said, stopping to look at some footprints, “Looks like coyotes were here. Not too surprising like rats.” 

Lucy took a look at the tracks, it had rained a few days ago, and the mud showed clear impressions of the canine. There were a few smaller ones that looked like rabbits if she peered into the densely wooded area she could make out game trails. Cooper had moved up a bit, looking down into the woods himself. His body ridged like he had spotted one of the mountain lions they were just talking about. Hat tipped up and eyes transfixed on whatever was ahead of him. 

“Whatcha see?” Lucy asked, coming to stand beside him and looking into the woods. Down a game trail almost out of sight was a stump stripped of bark. Sitting on top of starkly white wood was a coyote’s head, not old, but fresh. Its eyes were wide as if its last moments had been full of fear, blood, and gore dripping down the sides of the stump. It was a grotesque scene, something more akin to a horror movie than real life. 

“What in the-” Lucy said, going to step down the trail. Cooper’s big hands pulling her back, and she turned to see Cooper staring at her, hazel eyes wide with fear. 

“Don’t go in there, Lucy.” He said voice low, but forceful. The man was scared and holding onto her arm to stop her from entering the woods. She could feel the way his fingers were digging into her arm. 

“It’s just someone trying to mess with us,” Lucy said, trying to brush him off and move past him but he wouldn’t budge. He made sure to keep himself between her and the woods, she would have been offended if it was anyone else. 

“No, that’s a warning,” The man said, tugging her away from the place. Lucy looks back at the poor creature. Coyotes were walking vermin for most farmers, but they didn’t deserve to have their heads on pike. 

Cooper continues to tug on her arm, “Let’s finish the rounds.” He was already moving them away from the scene. Lucy having to know choice but to follow him. 

Lucy jogged trying to keep pace with the man, “Didn’t take you for a superstitious man.”

Cooper turned to her, a small smile crossing his face, “Maybe I am, but somethin’ doesn’t feel right out’er. Never seen anythin’ like that, that was someone trying to make a statement.” 

“If they were trying to make a statement why didn’t they put it on my front door?” Lucy adds, Cooper was right something was wrong. Not that it explained why someone would do any of this. 

Cooper breathed in and let it out, “I don’t know, Lucy. I don’t know a lot about these things, but I won’t trust something like that back’er. There are things in these woods that we’ll never understand.”

Lucy nods and kept following beside him. Observing more sets of tracks, coyotes, rabbits, and other large prints that look closer to bobcats. Thankfully no other coyote heads on any of the game trails they passed. That dark icky feeling that had crawled over Lucy’s home was also here. Not as pungent as it had been by the coyote's head, but still enough to make her heart speed up.  

As they came to the center of the property a large cut had been made through the brush for ATVs to get in and out easily. Once again Lucy was struck with how dark the place felt, even with full sun it felt like the tree’s shadows were longer. The green was closer to black than it had any right to be. It made her feel cold, a shiver covering her arms as she looked into what was once a familiar place. She and Norm had spent many hours on ATVs running around over trail; walking with their Grandma to pick berries or wild mint and other herbs. Now, it felt like she had never stepped foot in the place. 

As they stood there looking at the space, Lucy spotted the first signs of something wrong. Scuffs in the ground, spaced roughly five feet apart, she walks closer, the ground wasn’t as soft here. The marks were deep gouges lifting roots and leaf mold. She runs her fingers over the dirt, outlining them. With three big toes, the creature had been moving toward the forest judging by the deeper impression facing towards the bush. The prints looked eerily close to an extremely large chicken track. 

“Ever seen anything like that?” Lucy asks, Cooper coming over and crouching down beside her. Using his finger the same way she had to outline the thing. His hat covered his eyes as he looked at the markings. 

“Looks like-” He looks forward to the next print and then behind them. “A bird? Like a big bird. But that can’t be right.”

Moving between prints they went back up towards the house slightly and then disappeared. It was like the footprints had dropped out of the sky, much the same as a bird.  Walking back into the woods there were two that went in and then stopped. The two looking all around, trying to find any other evidence of the beast or whatever it was. Lucy looks up and points to what she sees among the trees. 

“Look at that.” She whispers, her voice still echoing in the cathedral of trees. “Is that fur?”

The two of them stood side by side looking up into the bunches of pine branches. Up about ten feet was a tuft of brown fur. The more they looked the more they saw, at least half a dozen spots with various sizes of fur on them. 

“Maybe the cougar?” Cooper asks, looking at Lucy and then back at the pieces of fur. “Got to be a cougar. They like to drag their meals up into the trees.”

Lucy squinted more, trying to see if there was anything else they were missing, “Got to be it right? How else would that get up there? Do cougars eat coyotes?”

“Cougar doesn’t explain these,” Cooper points down at the marks, “Like if those are tracks, the critter woulda been over ten feet tall. No way it could fit in the trailer.”

Lucy snorts, “In the trailer? How does it just disappear into the woods? There’s what. Five prints. Maybe it’s somethin’ digging in the ground, lookin’ for worms or something. Like a badger?”

Cooper removed his hat and rubbed at his head, looking at all the marks and then back up at the fur. He put his hat back on, dug out his phone, flipping his camera on.

“Do you mind?” He asked Lucy, as he went to take a photo of the prints. 

“Nah, go for it.” She said pulling out her phone to do the same thing. Maybe someone they knew would be able to give her answers. 

Cooper rubs his forehead, “Badger, maybe but spread out and even like this. Doesn’t make sense, this looks more like an animal walkin’ than something diggin',”

They stood there for a moment looking from the forest and then down at the tracks. Lucy wondering if she should go further in, maybe there would be more clues there. She could feel a small tug on her naval, a spark of something trying to call her in. Yet they stood there frozen, unable to move from their spots beside the other. 

The sounds of a truck horn woke both of them from their musing. Lucy let out a sigh and closed her phone. Cooper looking back towards the house and then back into the woods. 

“Think that’s our dinner bell,” Lucy said walking towards the house. She got about a hundred yards before turning back. Cooper still stood in the treeline looking around. “Cooper, you comin’?”

Cooper turned to her, blinking a few times as if he had just been awoken before he headed back up the hill. The two of them get to the top and see the kids waiting in the truck by the house. Lucy and Cooper tuck the guns safely away from the kids under the front bench seat, before taking off for dinner. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

** If you enjoyed the fic let me know! Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated.

** Want to be on the tag list let me know

** Most of my fics will be updated once a weekish possibly more often depending on how much writing I can get done! Want to keep the quality and make sure I am putting out my best work.

[gouinisme]

i truly do not think alice can possibly stop being a character bc of previously stated reasons so now my working theory is the "i'll die down here" is mostly a distraction from "i was born down here" and alice Is some kind of reborn or construct or undead or something in the way that what she Is, her Current form of life was born from whatever weird alchemist shit is going on in the OIAR and the Magnus institute

[leechjuice]

after months of planning, drafting and executing, it's about time i let the cat out of the bag. right?

i'm self-publishing my debut novel, IN THE END, YOU KILL US BOTH, on October 19th, 2024.

IN THE END is an adult literary horror and queer coming-of-age about the first three months following a nineteen-year-old arsonist's release from an out-of-state mental health facility and the dark, spiralling path she takes after falling in with a suspected cannibal.

this book is an ode to the indigestible ways we process trauma, grief and our own desires. it is my heart project, through and through, and i can't wait to share leo & elowen with all of you.

pre-orders will soon follow 🪳🏚️🩸🔪

[dzgrizzle]

I've noticed a bump in Amazon sales of my murder cult book after Meagan Lucas posted this pic of her reading it on her Bluesky, Instagram, and Threads accounts. I'm currently reading her awesomely dark collection of short stories, Here in the Dark (from @shotgunhoney Press), and I'll be posting a review soon.

You can buy the book here:

[leannareneehieber]

Darlings! I'm heading into an event every upcoming weekend! (And 3 book deadlines! EEK!) SO, that means I'll be scarce here BUT you can come find me at any of the following places in Chicago, Ohio or Vermont this month!

Chicago Steampunk Exposition - April 12-14 - I'm so thrilled to be a featured guest! Theme: VAMPIRES!! Come hear me talk about all things Gothic and Stoker-inspired! Books available for sale and signing! More info here.

Ohioana Book Festival - Columbus Library - Main Branch - April 20th, I'm so excited to be on the HORROR panel! Books available for sale and signing! FREE to attend! More info here.

Vermont Sci-Fi & Fantasy Expo! - Champlain Valley Expo Center - April 27th & 28th! I'll be discussing the importance of ghost stories and the importance of women writers in genre fiction! More info here.

Further upcoming: If you go to Key City Steampunk in Gettysburg or DragonCon in Atlanta, I'll also be a featured guest again this year at both events!

Hope to see you there! Happy Haunting! BOOP!

*pause*

SUPER BOOP!

[miss-celestia13]

Don't Wait Around

Original Short Story

Time swiftly runs down. Life will never be the same. Will Paul be able to keep Elspeth from the clutches of the man chasing her? Or will she have to fight to keep her blood from spilling?

Part two of Don’t Fall Asleep.

Click the link above if you haven’t read the first part or you’ll be very confused🤭 thank you to @cassi0-peia for talking through the details of how this would go down with me! Her suggestions helped so much. Thank you 🥰❤️

TW: Violence. Blood. Swearing. Drugs.

Elspeth

“Have you upset anyone at work?”

“No.”

“Have you dated anyone recently that maybe feels slighted and is acting out?”

“No.”

“Any family members or friends with a grudge?”

“No.”

“Have you allowed anyone in here on their own?”

Elspeth was going to respond with another negative, but she paused. She only moved in six months ago, and the landlord would fix issues while she was out to give her privacy.

“Uhm, my landlord. He came to fix the faucet four months ago, and he had to come back twice after when it kept dripping.”

The police didn’t seem impressed with that information, but she didn’t bring anyone home. She met friends and dates outside of her house.

“Do you have his number, Miss Woods?”

She nodded and asked Paul for her phone. He reluctantly passed it over, and she opened the contacts. The officers noted down his name and number and told her they’d be in touch once they’d spoken to him. It wasn’t long before they were packing up. Black dust covered much of the entrances of her flat, and all her belongings were in disarray as she saw them off. The adrenaline had faded long before that moment, and once the door was locked, she slumped to her knees and leaned her head against the wood as Paul observed. All she wanted was to sleep for a week and have this be nightmare over. A sigh that came from the soles of her socked feet rocked her petite frame as she stared unseeing at the ceiling.

“We’ll head out soon, buy some cameras, and I’ll install them,” Paul murmured, eyes locked on her carefully composed expression.

Elspeth didn’t have the energy to respond vocally and only nodded. Someone had replaced her bones with lead and filled them with acid instead of marrow as she slowly got to her feet. Paul didn’t say anything as she walked into her disaster of a bedroom, studiously ignoring the lilacs scattered over the floor. She grabbed sweats and a hoody before going to the bathroom to change into them. Paul was waiting by the door as she slipped her sneakers on, grabbed her wallet and car keys, and followed him into the late afternoon air. He only had his motorbike, and she refused to entertain the idea of clinging to him like a terrified monkey as he wove through traffic.

Her little car hadn’t been moved in weeks, and she worried it wouldn’t start. Luckily, it did, and they were soon on the way to spending too much money on something she didn’t believe would help. Paul directed her to go out of town, and she argued at first, not wanting to be away from home too long, but his reasoning made sense.

“If they’re following you, they’ll know about the cameras before we can buy them. It’ll give them time to formulate a way to get around them. There’s a store in Stockbridge. We’ll go there instead.”

“Fine. Have you heard from Jamie?” She asked, recalling his earlier texts now the immediate danger was gone.

Paul shook his head but didn’t look at her as he replied, making her uneasy, “Nope. He’ll be sleeping off the night shift.”

She knew it was a lie as she grit her teeth to stop the torrent of angry words crawling up her throat from escaping. He would remain evasive if she continued to question him, and she wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted to know about whatever Jamie was dealing with. There was enough to deal with as it was. The drive into Stockbridge wasn’t long, and she was soon parked in front of a small electronics store. It was nondescript and unexciting from out front. Just a simple handwritten sign in the window informed patrons it was open. Paul exited the car, waiting for her to do the same before he made a beeline for the door, and she hurried after him.

Tiny and cramped, the shelves sagged under their burdens as she carefully walked between them and kept her eyes trained on Paul’s broad back. He leaned on the glass counter as the man behind it smiled in recognition and welcomed him like an old friend. Elspeth eyed the walls and looked around while the two men spoke in undertones, ignoring the shopkeeper’s gaze when it landed on her after something Paul said. She was being rude, but she was exposed and primed to dissolve if someone asked her the wrong thing. It was best she stayed quiet. Soon, the man was flitting around his shop as Paul directed him, and she was invisible as they talked over all the features. Her mind snagged on the price tag, eyes bugging slightly as Paul agreed it was a good deal. It was half a month’s rent, and her debit card burnt a hole in her pocket as she grieved yet another thing stolen from her. Money could always come back, and she knew her life was worth more. Death offered no returns, and she grudgingly paid it as Paul accepted the large bag. Before she could catch her breath, they were on the road home.

The day was put on fast forward. Paul was finishing with the last camera, a tiny thing that would clip onto her blinds and catch any movement from outside. She felt like she was on a terrible reality show as they sat in the living room, eating pizza that tasted like sawdust and hardly talking. Her brother still hadn’t called, but Paul spent much of the evening texting someone, and when her new doorbell rang, he didn’t seem surprised as he got up to answer it. Her brother’s dulcet tones rattled through the silent apartment, and she huffed as she tossed her half-eaten slice back in the box. Jamie entered with his friend, and the lines of strain around his nonsmiling mouth made her go very still.

“What happened?” She demanded, eyes flicking between the two men and rolling when they glanced at each other before Jamie replied.

“Someone put a knife through my tires. I was with the police half the day, and the other half was spent putting on new ones. They left no trace, and the police are chasing their tails.”

Her heart fucking stopped. Dead in her chest. Her mouth worked, but no sound came out as she tried to make sense of it and came up with nothing.

“It’s fine, Elsa. They’re getting brave. It’s only a matter of time before they trip and reveal something we can use against them.” Paul soothed, but her blood resided somewhere below her feet, and she was so tired.

She wanted to scream, to rage and make something bleed. Her rolling stomach and sluggish heartbeat kept her from doing anything above a whisper.

“If you believe that, you’re thicker than you look... I’m going to bed,” She sighed, utterly sick of life and all its horrendous surprises. Jamie snorted as Paul pretended to be affronted by her calling him stupid. Still, neither said a word as she shuffled to her room and clambered into bed.

Paul

He watched Jamie’s sister wear a path into the floors as she paced and wrung her hands until her skin turned red. Like a caged cat railing against its prison, she grumbled and cut daggered eyes to him and her brother as she complained.

“He lives in the middle of fucking nowhere. Why can’t he come here? If we leave and anything happens...” She never finished the thought, head shaking as she growled at the sky, and he bit back a laugh.

“That’s what the cameras are for, Elsa. It won’t take long. Most landlords wouldn’t give a shit about their tenants.” Jamie tried, but Elspeth was a hurricane draped in human skin.

“Well, he could send a fruit basket or an email or - something!” She spat and actually stomped her foot like a child refused a treat, and he couldn’t contain his grin as she whirled on him.

“I guess you’ll be coming too? Stop laughing, or I swear to -”

“Calm down, princess,” he drawled to make her eye twitch before going on, “You’ll do nothing. And, of course, I’m coming. For all we know, it could be your landlord. Another reason we have to go.”

She deflated like Jamie’s tires and scowled up a storm as she gave in.

“Fine. Fine. Let’s get it over with then.”

Neither man said a word as she got ready, saying more in looks and smothered laughs as she stomped around. He’d known her and Jamie for longer than he’d known himself, and it hadn’t been a question when Jamie asked for his help. They would do the same for him, and it kept his mind off the myriad of issues he stored in the back of his mind, yet to be addressed. It wasn’t long before Jamie drove them to her landlord’s house, and he went through his mental checklist of things to watch for while Jamie rapped along badly to an old song. The countryside blurred as Jamie put his foot down and followed the road to the house on the edge of the woods that guarded half of their town.

The long, winding gravel driveway stretched before them as he rattled off instructions and warned Elspeth to stay calm.

“Pay attention to your surroundings. Don’t eat or drink anything you can’t see being prepared. Give nothing away. Don’t offer anything, either. Don’t wander off alone. Stay calm and alert, Elspeth. Don’t fly off the handle if he says anything upsetting.”

Jamie snorted, knowing how reactive his sister could be when someone said the wrong thing, and Paul knew he’d watch her more than he’d see anything else. It was on him to log every detail to obsess over later. Jamie parked beside a beat-up truck, and they got out of the car almost as one, just as the red door at the front of the cottage swung open. Paul forced a relaxed smirk to his lips and was relieved when Elspeth did the same, her earlier ire locked away for now. Her landlord was a miserly old man, nearing retirement but held on to all his faculties from what he’d managed to parse from Elspeth earlier. He wasn’t much taller than Elsa’s 5’5 height, and his wrinkled, weathered face spoke of long summers outside. His grey eyes lit up as Elspeth greeted him, his smile broadened as he welcomed Paul and Jamie. They were ushered inside, and Paul had to stoop to avoid banging his head on the doorframe as he went in last.

“I wanted to discuss what the police told me and see if I can do anything to help you, Miss Woods. I apologize for making you come out here; my wife is sick, and my... they couldn’t be left alone.”

They were instructed to sit at a small round table in the bright kitchen, and the landlord, or Fred as he preferred to be known, began preparing a pot of tea. Paul’s gaze was trained on the man’s hands as he eased into the spindly wooden chair, holding his breath and praying it would bear his 230lb weight. It groaned, and he decided to sit very still to keep from turning the delicate chair into a pile of matchsticks. Jamie watched him with a shit-eating grin that he leveled with a glare. Elspeth’s honeyed voice broke through his silly thoughts, and he listened as she gave a quick rundown of the situation.

“I don’t remember when it started, but it’s been months. They’ve been inside the apartment multiple times, and I don’t know how. We got cam -”

“Cameron. We got a friend of ours, Cameron, to keep an eye on it whenever we are out. He won’t be able to do that forever,” Paul interjected and gave a slight shake of his head that only Elspeth noticed. He didn’t want anyone but them to be aware of the cameras.

“Yes. Cameron is there now. How much would I have to pay to get you to install new locks?” Elspeth asked.

“Usually, hundreds of dollars, but as this is a special case, I would not charge you. I’m afraid it will take a few days to make it happen.” Fred said as he poured steaming water into the teapot.

Paul tuned Elspeth out as he looked out the window to the massive garden. His mind worked overtime as he eyed the sheer scale of it and wondered how the old man kept it up. He wasn’t versed in the language of flowers and nature, but even he knew the man had created a masterpiece. Pink, purple, red, and orange, greenery exploding amongst the bursts of color, and he couldn’t imagine the patience it would take to care for such a garden. Butterflies fluttered freely amongst the blooms, bumping into fat bees as they filled up on pollen and carried it away. His attention was snagged by something bigger moving around. A flash of white bopped above the shrubs and bushes near the end of the garden, a man Paul thought. But it vanished when he looked back. Distracted by Fred as he set a china cup down beside his elbow, Paul lost track of the figure.

“Is there someone in the garden?” He blurted as everyone else fixed their tea with milk and honey.

Fred’s brows lifted as he glanced out the window and back at Paul, “My son. He looks after the gardens.”

Paul opened his mouth to ask more, but Elspeth was quicker.

“Oh, you mentioned him and your wife. I hope she’s okay and isn’t sick for too long. We won’t take too much of your time. I’m sure you’re stressed enough as it is.”

Fred thanked her and told them everything the police had said and done. It amounted to about the same as they already knew, but an oily feeling spread through Paul as they chatted. He didn’t touch the tea he was served and wanted to knock it out of his friend’s hands each time they sipped the murky liquid. Elspeth seemed to find it too sweet and daintily sat it down in its saucer after another mouthful that made her wince. Only he noticed, and Fred didn’t seem to care whether they drank it. The honey on the table bore no label. A handwritten date was stamped on the side in black marker. He tried to catch another glimpse of the son outside, but he was gone. Time raced ahead, the drooping sun the only clue of how long they’d been there as they wrapped up.

“However long this goes on, don’t hesitate to reach out if I can help, Miss Woods. I’ll call you with the details once I contact my locksmith.” Fred said with a kind smile.

“I will, thank you, Fred. We’ll get out of your way. Hopefully, this’ll all be over soon.” Elspeth returned, but there was no hope in her voice; Paul’s stomach turned at the flat tone of it.

“Yes, I hope for your sake that it’s settled soon. I’ll see you out. Feel free to take a jar of honey with you. We bottle it from our own hives and keep some around for visitors. It’s by the door.” Fred suggested, and Paul didn’t stop Elspeth as she picked up a jar from the wicker basket sitting atop a little shelving unit near the door. She wrinkled her nose and fought a cringe as Fred patted her shoulder. Paul wanted her safely locked inside her apartment before anything else could happen. She was too jumpy for his taste. Neither he nor Jamie took any of the honey, and they were soon waving goodbye to Fred as Jamie drove them away.

Elspeth

Day after day, fell away like leaves, and she chafed at her imaginary bindings every time Paul reminded her she could do nothing alone. He haunted her every step outside the apartment. He screened every call or message she received, and she couldn’t even use social media other than to doomscroll. It was driving her insane. Her cameras caught nothing more than birds, the mailman, or food delivery service workers, and she started to believe she had made the whole thing up. Gaslighting herself to get through the long, tension-fueled days. She should have known it wouldn’t last. Should’ve realized it was the calm before the storm. Woken in the middle of the night, the clatter of Paul bolting out of the house dragged her out of sleep, and her heart was lodged in her throat as she hunkered down like he taught her.

Curled up in the bath, the shower curtain her only shield, Elspeth’s breath echoed softly off the enamel, and her heartbeat was a war drum in her ears as she prayed she would live to see the morning. She didn’t dare move, not when she heard Paul coming back inside and barking at someone on the phone as he pounded on the locked bathroom door.

“Elspeth, they’re gone. You can come out.” He shouted, and she unfurled her tingling legs, blowing hair away from her sweat-slick face as she scrambled out of the bath.

Paul was already in the living room as she went through, biting her lip as he ordered someone around.

“I don’t give a fuck, Stuart. The cameras aren’t a deterrent for this cunt. Do your damn job or her blood is on your hands.” He clipped and hung up, eyeing her carefully, and she desperately schooled her features into something a shade less terrified.

“Sorry, you’ll be fine. I need them to get off their ass and stop pussyfooting around this. An officer will be stationed outside from tomorrow.” Paul explained, and her chest loosened enough to let go of the breath she was holding.

“That’s... something at least. Did you see them?”

Paul clenched his fists, jaw sharp as glass as he looked away and said, “No. It’s a man, though. The way he moved,” He shook his head, meeting her gaze at last, and she silently urged him to continue, “It’s definitely a man, and he left something. Poppies. Crushed and crawling with maggots. Any idea what that could mean?”

She had no response, and Paul heaved a sigh of the long-suffering as he paced. The night was a blur of new silence and tension so tight she knew one wrong word or touch would make her disintegrate. Paul fumed quietly as she dozed on the couch, and she couldn’t see a way out of this. Couldn’t fathom an ending that wasn’t soaked in blood and rotting flowers. Her dreams offered no respite. All the gifts, notes, and fright played on an endless reel until she gave up on sleep entirely as the sun broke through her curtains. Paul made her breakfast, simple fare, but it tasted like ash on her tongue as she forced it down. Her mind kept snagging on Fred. When he’d touched her earlier, she caught a whiff of a pungent scent that she recognized. But her frazzled brain couldn’t make the connection.

An iron cape hung from her shoulders as she and Paul watched old movies, dragging her down, down, down. They’d cleaned her room and left the window on night lock to remove the lilac scent that clung to everything she owned. Half of her wanted to hand herself over to the monster after her, end this now. Still, the other half roared her defiance, battering her hands against her cage and spitting flame at anyone who dared come near. The plain-clothed officer and his nondescript vehicle were parked down the street, and she felt like an animal in a zoo. Imprisoned and gawked at by all who dared enter her enclosure. The day dwindled like treacle, barely a word said as she and Paul readied for bed. She knew he wouldn’t sleep well, would listen for every sound she made, and her shoulders ached, tension building too high in her muscles as she brushed her teeth.

Long past midnight, she finally turned off her bedroom light, gritty eyes stinging as she struggled against the lure of sleep. Promising she would only let them rest, she closed her eyes and thought of dull things, taxes, emails, and energy bills, but it didn’t work how she wanted. Startled awake hours later by Paul hollering, her legs tangled in the sheets, and she collapsed to the floor as she tried to leave her room. Cursing and heart bouncing off her ribs, she ripped the fabric away and half crawled, half ran to see what was happening. As soon as she opened the door, a thick, acrid smoke draped the air above her head, and her head emptied out, everything inside going still as she dropped to her knees and scrambled on her hands and knees to find Paul.

She made it to the kitchen and pulled her sweatshirt collar up around her nose and mouth as she spied the open back door, flames licking around the sides of it. A desperate cry tripped off her tongue as Paul yelled her name outside.

“Elspeth! Stay inside,” A throaty cough interrupted him, wet and raw before he went on, “I don’t know what way he went.”

His coughing worsened like it was tearing him up from the inside, and she couldn’t listen to it; she needed to see if he was okay. She began army crawling toward the back door, eyes nipping with the smoke. A frustrated scream, torn from the bottom of her tattered soul, was her only option as cold hands wrapped around her ankles and hauled her back, nails breaking and splitting as she clawed at the floor and kicked her feet. Flipped onto her back, she saw her tormentor for the first time. He wore a full face mask, not an inch of skin on display, as his gloved hands tightened painfully and dragged her toward the front entrance. Shrieking and sobbing, she pleaded with him as Paul appeared in the kitchen, dazed and clumsy on his feet. She knew something was terribly wrong before he crashed to his knees. Fear for herself faded as her captor chuckled, delighted as Paul failed to stand up.

“You’ll find its best to lie down, Paul. Your muscles are weakening, and the tremors will only get worse. You can’t fight against nature.” The man crooned, voice laced with dark pleasure and punctuated by breathless little moans.

Elspeth kicked out with all her strength, but he held her harder and pulled her roughly behind him. Her head spun, lungs burning with the urge to breathe deeply. She didn’t dare as Paul gurgled and choked. It wasn’t regular smoke. Something insidious resided inside it.

“The police are outside,” She tried, forcing as much false bravado into her voice as possible, “You won’t get far. Leave, and we’ll forget about this. I swear to you, I’ll let you go.”

The man never halted, her words falling on deaf ears, and she understood that the police had been dealt with. When he dropped her legs, she scooted backward on her ass and stared up at the towering male as he cocked his head, hooded eyes glinting with something she couldn’t name. He took a syringe out of his pocket, and her head shook, tears sliding down her face as he straddled her and held her down. The silver needle sparkled in the low light, and a drop of clear liquid dangled from its point as he lowered his covered face an inch above hers and jabbed it into the side of her neck. The pain didn’t register as horror took over, and her hands turned to claws, raking uselessly down his neck.

“Now, now, little bird. It’ll all be better once you wake.”

His rancid breath didn’t help the roiling in her stomach, but the drug worked too quickly. The edges of her vision went snowy, and every blink lasted longer than the last as her limbs turned boneless. Darkness reared up and swallowed her whole as the empty syringe clattered off the floor. Her captor’s words echoed in her mind until it winked out, too, and she knew no more.

Sluggish and slow, her heart beat out of rhythm as her drug-induced sleep wore off. Every muscle and nerve had been dulled and weighted down, twitching fingers, cramping and clenching when she couldn’t lift them. Cracking a blurry eye open, she tried to catch her bearings and wished she hadn’t. Furiously blinking the haze from her eyes, she glanced around, whimpering as she tested her restraints. She ignored the metal table she was strapped to. All around her, above and below, flowers. There were so many types she couldn’t name them all, and all the greenery blocked most of the daylight. Cracks in the canopy told her it was daytime, and she didn’t want to know how long she’d been there. Her wrists burned as she twisted them slightly, finding a little bit of give in the worn leather, and wondered if she could dislocate her thumbs like she used to as a child.

An awareness washed over her as she attempted it and failed. She wasn’t alone. Her breath quickened, her pulse jumping in her throat as he approached her right side, hidden in shadow until he stood over her crying face. He bore no mask, and recognition ignited instantly at the sight of the scars and old scratch marks.

“Why?” She gritted out, mouth dry as a bone as the man smiled a serpentine smile and nodded.

“You didn’t flinch at the sight of me.” He replied and the hopelessness of her situation suffocated her.

Her muffled thoughts screamed as he bent down and sniffed her neck. She pulled as far away as the straps would allow, but it only made him happy.

“Please. If you let me go -”

“Ahh, that won’t be happening, I’m afraid. Your friend will live if they treat him fast enough. But, you, you belong to me. You can’t fly until I break you.”

Her heart trembled, relief and terror battling inside her, and neither winning as his words sank in. He stroked calloused hands down her face, every touch making her jolt and clench her teeth. He murmured under his reeking breath, words of twisted praise and joy. Bile rose up her throat, but she swallowed it, sweat prickling on her naked skin as he eyed her like a trophy. She had no shame to give as he trailed his fingers down her heaving chest, pinching and tugging at her skin as his hand moved south. Her rabbit heart was inconsolable as he grabbed her thigh, fingers digging in before his blunt nails scraped down her knee and to her bound ankles. Massaging her feet, he began to speak. 

“Mountain Laurel, it’s a beautiful but deadly flower. It grows best in mountainous regions but can take to almost any soil if given the correct care. Once it thrives, it blooms, wondrous to see, and my bees love it. It’s beautiful to look at but deadly if you get too close. Or burn it. Your friend will suffer greatly for keeping you from me. Terrible business, but needs must…” 

Frowning, she said, “I don’t particularly care how beaut-“

“Enough, little bird. Stop singing and listen,” His face morphed from serenity to extreme hate, his craggy skin mottling as he glowered at her. 

“I can’t sell my bees’ honey because of this plant. They call it ‘mad honey’. It’s toxic to anyone who ingests it, so I give it away. What my father doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Did you try the jar you took? It takes time to build up; you should be fine, but I’ll keep a close eye on you to ensure your continued good health.”

Her mind whirled and tripped over itself as she tried to understand it. She hadn’t touched the honey yet, but Paul had. Oh, god, if he died… no, he was fine. He had to be okay, or she’d lose what remained of her sanity. The clinking of metal broke her out of her thoughts, and she could do nothing as her captor held up a sparkling scalpel and nodded, pressing it into her thigh. His panting accelerated as skin split and blood spilled. The tool was so sharp she only felt the pain once he lifted it from her skin. The cut wasn’t deep, but it dropped like rubies down the inside her thigh and dripped to the table. He swiped his thumb along the wound, lifting it to his mouth to taste it. His eyes rolled back, and his possessive groan assaulted her ears. 

“Why the lilacs?!” She blurted as he moved to repeat his actions on her other leg, sobbing when he stopped and met her wild eye, “Why those flowers? What did that mean?” 

The longer she kept him talking, the better her chance of getting out alive. He seemed appreciative of her attempt at conversation, and it settled the thing pacing along her ribs.

“Are you familiar with Greek myth?” 

She shook her head, “No. Only Hades and Persephone.”

His whole face lit up, and he hurried to stand at her head again, the scalpel hanging from his fingers carelessly. 

“Pan and Syringa. Syringa turned into a lilac bush to escape Pan’s advances. I thought it was fitting. You wouldn’t have come willingly. I had to - make you. You won’t be making any transformations that will steal you from me. No, my love, you will ache to be by my side.” 

Tapping her fingers on the table, she sneered up at him and spat, “I will never forget what you did. I will never be yours.”

Shadows danced in his eyes, and she wanted to take the words back when a familiar male voice cut through her frantic breathing. 

“Jonas! Dinners ready, get it while it’s hot.” 

How odd it was to know the world outside her personal hell still turned and went on like she didn’t matter. Suddenly, she knew why she recognized that smell on Fred that day she visited. She smelt it on Jonas every time he was near and had seen the bottles. Fish, blood and bone fertilizer. Opening her mouth, she howled, but it was no use. A blow to the head made her teeth clack together, the sound cut off, and everything went dark as he hit her again. 

It was night or early morning when she woke again; she could hear him moving around the plants and forced herself to stay quiet. The scalpel rested on another small table, mere inches from her fingertips. She tried again to dislocate her thumb, but it was impossible; she needed a hand free to do it right. Frustration smothered her as she stretched as much as her bindings allowed, fingers glancing off the scalpel but too far to wrap around it. A growl slipped free, and Jonas went quiet until his crunching steps came to her. He wore another sanguinary smile, and she wanted to tear it off with her teeth as he tutted and clicked his tongue repeatedly, goosebumps flaring in the wake of it. 

“If you behave, I won’t have to hurt you.” He admonished her like a child. 

“You’re going to hurt me anyway!” She snapped, ice dousing her insides as he glowered and clenched his fists. 

“You’ll thank me for it one day.” He muttered, shifting on his feet as a vein in his temple bulged. 

Changing tactics, she appealed to his need to “help” her, “I need the bathroom. I can’t hold it much longer.” 

His brows furrowed, and he began to smile sadly, but she wouldn’t give up, “please. You’ve taken enough from me. Let me keep some of my dignity.” 

Gaze softening, he considered for a long moment before he replied, “If you try to run -“

“I won’t! I promise.” And she wouldn’t, not yet. 

A weighted pause hung between them as he thought it over and finally began to undo her shackles. She lay very still, not daring to breathe as blood rushed to her extremities, and they tingled painfully. Rubbing at her wrists, he gathered them in hand and hauled her up, pulling her through the jungle of plants to a glass door. It wasn’t until she was sucking down cool night air that she realized he was keeping her in a greenhouse. The darkness was so complete she may as well have been blind as he guided her to a tree and let her go, putting his back to her. She bit back an insult and crouched, relieving herself as cleanly as she could and sighing as the pressure of her full bladder eased. She didn’t have it in her to care she was debasing herself as he grabbed hold of her again, and they returned to the greenhouse. 

Days passed in a daze of fear and anger. He kept her fed and watered like he tended to his fucking plants. And all she knew was Jonas as time slipped through her fingers. He came multiple times a day to check on her and test her, slicing into her skin whenever she displeased him and tasting her blood when she answered correctly. Her answers became shorter and shorter, her mind threatening to break with every night she spent staring at a tiny patch of stars or clouds. No matter how many wishes she made, none came true. Still, she waited. She prayed and gathered her fading strength for a time when he grew careless. 

Her chance came weeks, maybe months later. She wasn’t sure. Another night, another piss under a tree, but they weren’t alone this night. Her brother’s voice shattered the lethal quiet. Barely above a whisper, but they both heard it, Jonas twisted to bare his teeth at her. She was picked up and carried into the greenhouse, thrown to the floor, where she rolled until her back hit the table, and she cried out. Jonas was already gone, the door locked as she searched for something to break it with. Fear for Jamie made her clumsy as she stumbled around her prison, and she knew if she broke the glass, he could return and kill her before Jamie could get to her. Instead, her eyes caught on the scalpel, and it was in her hand before she thought about moving. 

Weaving through the forest of flowers, the scent of lilacs turned her weak stomach, but she followed it to the source. Barrels of them rotted against a glass wall, more hanging above them to dry. Gauging the size of the containers, she clenched the scalpel between her teeth. She gripped the plastic barrel, climbing into it uneasily. Slimy, sticky petals adhered to her skin as she wriggled under until she was buried in them. She wanted to be sick. Wanted to jump back out and forget about escape as the scent thickened in her lungs and choked the air from her. Bugs skittered over her exposed skin, itchy and awful as she screwed her eyes shut. A pained shout from outside made her jolt. She knew that voice anywhere. Planning to run to her brother, she prepared to leave her hiding place when the door to the greenhouse slammed and shattered, glass showering to the ground. The violence of it froze her blood. 

“Little bird, come out, and we can forget this happened.” 

She knew better than to trust that. Holding her breath, she clutched the scalpel in her trembling hands and waited. Measured steps neared her barrel; she counted them and let them slow her heart down. A loud bang, followed by his angry snarl, and she knew he was checking the barrels. One by one, he knocked them over. She couldn’t contain her shriek as hers was overturned, and she tumbled out. Scurrying away on her knees, she didn’t make it far. He grabbed her by the hair, yanking her back so hard she screamed as searing hot pain scoured her scalp. Twisting and leaning away, she couldn’t get him to let go. Another yank, and she collapsed on her back and let him drag her through the greenhouse. Stones, twigs, and dirt scratched and stabbed her back, drawing blood as sweat stung them like bees. 

He wrapped her hair around his hand and straddled her once they reached the table. She only had time to take a single gulp of air as he wrapped his hands around her neck and throttled her. Her hands lifted, punching and beating his face, hands, and neck. Blood pattered like rain on her face as she caught his eye, and he screeched like an animal as he rolled off her. Blinking stupidly at her bloody hands, she saw why. Somehow, she still held the scalpel, and he hadn’t noticed, too lost in fury to check her over. He moaned and whined, clutching his face as scarlet poured between his sliced fingers. She didn’t waste a second. She ran outside. Her weakened legs struggled to hold her up as chilled grass and glass embedded and flattened under her feet, and she shivered as the chill hit her. She wasn’t paying attention to where she was going, falling over something big as she aimed for her landlord’s house. 

The air whooshed from her lungs, wide eyes catching sight of her brother. 

“Jamie, please be okay… please…” she mumbled as she pushed him on his back and saw the knife wound in his side. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle, but his grey shirt was black with it. He grunted when she slapped him hard, doing it again, so he opened his eyes. Panic stole her courage. Making her stupid as she felt for his pulse, weak but steady as he tried to sit up. She hurried him along, pleading with him to move and biting down on her tongue when he swayed. They didn’t have long, and she couldn’t carry him. Luck wasn’t on their side. 

“You aren’t leaving here alive. Come back, little bird. You can’t hide from me.”

A large rock snagged her attention. She put the scalpel down and picked the stone up. It would have to do as Jonas rounded the bush they were hiding behind and blocked her way forward. Jamie whispered her name, telling her to run and save herself, but she couldn’t leave him to die. Jonas edged closer, blood still leaking down his face, and she clung to the last strands of her hope as she uncoiled to her feet, hand hidden behind her back. Fighting didn’t work. Begging don’t either. Seduction might.

“I don’t want to leave you, Jonas,” she purred, thrusting her chest out and adopting a submissive attitude as he eyed her warily, “Let him go, and I’ll be yours. You won’t have to hide me. I want to make you happy. Will you let me try?” 

“I don’t believe you.” He said bitterly, and her hopes began to die, but she was stubborn. 

Sidling closer, she reached out a hand and cupped his ragged face, smiling like a lover would as she stretched up on her toes. Internally, she revolted; the thought of kissing him was worse than anything he could inflict on her, but she made herself do it. Chapped lips met hers, and he didn’t taste any better than he smelled as he shoved his tongue down her throat. Trying not to choke, she kissed him back, melting into him and letting him take her to the grass. She mounted him, let him hold her hips, and grind her down into his erection as she sat back on her haunches and smirked like a cat. A repulsed shudder rippled through her as he jerked his hips into hers, and her disgust almost broke through her seductive veneer, but it was easily disguised as pleasure. Jonas closed his eyes as she circled her hips, her free hand resting around his neck as he grunted her name. She let him have his fun, and his body went rigid. He was panting wetly as she lifted the rock by inches. 

Holding her down, he bucked and flailed under her; vomit soured her mouth as he opened his eyes. She grinned when shock flashed in their black depths. Slamming with all her might, she brought the rock down on his orgasming face. Flesh and bone gave way to her rage. Splintering and crumbling, she hit him again. Again. And again. She lost count when he stopped trying to get her off. Blood sprayed and squelched under the force of her attack, and shards of bone and skin decorated the rock as she pummelled him again. She was furious, she hated him for making her kill him. She kept going until he stopped breathing. Did it some more to make sure he was gone. Blood cooled and congealed between her sore fingers, making it slippery as she rammed it into his mushed up face. Lost in fright and fury, she couldn’t hear herself roaring and only stopped when someone hauled her off the broken man. His head was split in two, and brain matter and gore replaced his scarred face. She growled and screamed, and the rock fell from her fingers as she was taken away. 

“Elspeth. Stop! It’s me. You’re fine!” Paul’s voice got through to her, and she sobbed anew. 

“How? He said you would -“she demanded as he wrapped his jacket around her shivering form. 

She must have looked horrific if his expression was anything to go by. Exasperation transformed into something lethal as he looked behind her to the dead man. 

“I was in hospital, but they’d seen it before and knew how to treat it. You aren’t the first he’s done this too, Elsa. Just the last, thanks to you.” He soothed, embracing her and loosing a long breath into her filthy hair. 

Her body failed her, and Paul hefted her into a bridal hold as her legs gave out, and she hung onto him. Burying her face in his neck, she let his scent settle her and listened as he walked her to where Jamie still lay prone. 

“We’ve been looking for you for weeks. Jamie put it together. He had keys to your apartment that night he took you. He must’ve dropped them in the alley, and Jamie found them before the police did. They had your landlord’s name and address on the keychain.” 

Exhaustion made her brain foggy as sirens neared the area, and she took her first natural breath in months as Paul kept talking to keep her awake. He explained that they’d decided to act later that day, save her before it ended in a death match, but Jamie couldn’t wait. He left without Paul, unable to sit in safety while she was in danger, and Paul had to catch up to him. She didn’t take much in after that. Jamie’s life bled out as the garden was swarmed by police and federal agents. Paul refused to let her go when the medics showed up and carried her into the ambulance, and she couldn’t fight it anymore. The darkness offered solace she sorely needed. She let Paul’s reassurance follow her into oblivion.

“You’re free. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” 

Three months later. 

“Paul, do you want soda or beer?” She called, smiling as he entered the kitchen of her new apartment.

“Soda. I need to drive home.” He said, leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets, a delicate smile on his lips.

“You can stay the night, you know.” She offered as she shut the refrigerator door and walked to him, handing him the cold can. 

His fingers lingered on hers as he took it, a ghost of a touch that she wanted to last for hours. He’d been there through it all. The breaking, mending, and healing were still a daily battle but getting easier with each new day. He all but moved in with Jamie once he was released from hospital. He’d died on the operating table, and neither she nor Paul had let him out of their sight since his release. Her brother still couldn’t live his life the way he used to. He watched her like a hawk whenever she saw him, and guilt thickened her tongue whenever she was near him. They nearly lost him, and it was all because of her. Because she smiled and thanked a stranger for helping her, she blamed herself despite Paul and Jamie’s reassurance that she was a victim, too. But every time her brother faltered, she felt that blame like an indelible mark on her soul. 

Paul visited her almost daily. To chat or check-in. Those visits lengthened until she was searching for excuses to keep him around a bit longer. He seemed just as reluctant to go and humored her each time she found a reason for his presence. Her therapist helped as well. She only woke screaming in the night a few times a week these days and was looking forward to seeing a time when it wouldn’t happen at all. Her landlord had sold all his properties, packed up, and moved away once he was cleared of any wrongdoing. He had no idea how evil his son was. Had tried to get him help when he first started mutilating himself; the scars were all self-inflicted from what she’d learned, but nothing stuck, and he grew into a monster, unfit for society. His seclusion and horrifying way of showing affection turned him into something she still couldn’t believe was wholly human. 

Taking a life, no matter how awful the person was, it weighed on her, and she feared she was tainted by it. How could anyone love someone death has visited? She didn’t have an answer. But as she and Paul settled down to watch something silly and lighthearted, maybe she didn’t have to. He hugged, smiled at, and touched her any chance he got. Perhaps it was enough that he knew all of her, and he didn’t care what she had done to survive. Life would never be the same, but she thought that was the point, and she had the opportunity to make it what she wanted. It was almost stolen from her, but she took it back and would not waste it. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. If you comment or reblog, thank you for that too. I was very nervous to share something original and still am. I had to give them a new start at the end for this first original story. They’ve suffered enough 🤭❤️

[girlfromthecrypt]

My dog and I just had the shittiest road trip.

I’m in a long distance relationship with my partner of four years. They live a seven hour drive from me, and every weekend, I pack up my things, load up the truck and go on the long-ass trip it takes me to see them. By now, I’m used to the potholes, the traffic jams, the impromptu bladder stops and horrendous gas station bathrooms. Now, I love my partner so it’s all worth it to me, but goddamn, the roads are crappy. It doesn’t help that they live off-the-grid, in a hard to find spot. The drive can actually be sort of dangerous sometimes.

Due to personal reasons, my partner can’t join me at my place in the city and even though I want to eventually move in with them, moving out into the sticks would just murder my career right now. It’s a frustrating situation and our only option is basically to hang on and wait for our circumstances to change. Until then, every Friday afternoon and every Sunday night, it’s “truckin’ time” for my dog and me. That’s what I’ve come to call these long car rides, and last Friday was about the worst one so far. 

It started innocently enough. I hurled my bag into the back of my vehicle and whistled for my Borzoi. “Pasha! Truckin’ time!” 

This has become a specific command for Pasha, and each time he hears it, he comes barreling towards me at high speed and leaps onto the passenger seat. Over the years, it’s turned into this practiced performance of ours. I open the door at exactly the right time for him to land the perfect jump, all in one elegant, fluid motion. Not to brag, but we’re a great team; it’s almost like a circus act. And Pasha is wonderful company. He’s sweet and doesn’t mind curling up next to me while I drive, as long as I occasionally give him a treat and stop for walks, pees and cuddles. 

Okay, there was that one time when we got stuck in traffic. It was a hot day and stressful as hell, and he decided out of the blue that the best thing to get my mind off the jam was to loudly sing me the song of his people; but other than that, he’s the best. 

So this Friday, we did our little circus act, I strapped him into his restraint and we got on our way. Everything was going smoothly. The first two hours, we drove freely and unhindered. I was in a fairly good mood when I pulled over at a rest stop for Pasha to stretch those long, spindly legs of his. We walked a couple paces, he took a good long piss against a trash can while no one was looking, then I took a good long piss against that same trash can because the bastards were charging for restroom usage, and we climbed back into our car for the next stretch.

The following eighty minutes went well enough, but around the one and a half-hour mark, Pasha was getting a bit fidgety. Naturally, I stopped and got him out, but he didn’t do anything. He just stood frozen on the ground beside the truck, staring straight ahead with his tubular nose pointing at something in the distance up ahead. Following his gaze, I couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. After several minutes of me trying to figure out what had him so uneasy, I decided I didn’t have time for this. I got him to hop back in and we drove on. There was a tunnel coming up in about two hundred-something meters, and by the time I reached it, mine was the only car on the road. What few others had been in front of me had taken the exit off to the right shortly before. 

So we headed into the tunnel. Totally normal. We always took this route, I basically knew it by heart at that point. It’s not like I had some kind of phobia or fear of tunnels, but for some reason, I felt extremely apprehensive all of a sudden. I purposefully slowed down, rolling up to the entrance at a tempered pace. The concrete arch looked very much like a dark maw to me at that moment. I was a tad ashamed of myself, really; I had no idea why I was so skittish when I had passed this same stretch of road hundreds of times before. It was nothing new to me, and yet, my skin erupted into gooseflesh as I got closer and closer to the tunnel.

And that’s when I saw it.

It was only there for a split second, but my weary eyes caught a glimpse of something that looked like an enormous hand. Six long, thin, coal-black fingers had gripped onto the outer edge of the concrete arch, and I spotted them just in time as they peeled off and withdrew, vanishing into the darkness inside. For a moment, my brain got “hung up”, just… temporarily stopped working as it tried to process the image my sense of vision had sent up to it. I gaped at the now still, unmoving, unsuspecting opening ahead of me, and before I could bring my car to a stop, I had already rolled on into the tunnel.

Pasha lost it. The second the concrete had swallowed us, he started howling and barking, frantically tossing his head and pounding the faded leather seat with his paws. He’d risen to his full height, or rather the extent of it the limited space of the truck and his restraint allowed, and he was raising hell. I couldn’t blame him. I was at a complete loss, and a part of me desperately wanted to hold onto the hope that what I had seen had merely been an illusion created by an overactive imagination and eyestrain. I didn’t stay in denial for long. Pasha kept pointing his snout up like he was trying to get my attention, and when I finally put two and two together, I remembered that I had a sunroof. 

I tipped my head back, looking through the glass at the ceiling of the tunnel outside, only for my heart to jump into my throat. There was something staring in at me, two wide eyes meeting mine. It was about five or six times the size of a person and of humanoid shape, but absolutely emaciated. Its skin was dark, not the normal kind of dark but literal jet black, and it didn’t appear to have a single hair on its head. The thing was clinging to the round top of the concrete corridor, its giant body curled up and flattened against the curve of the tunnel. I only managed to catch a quick peek at it before I instinctively whipped my head back down and stepped on the gas.

My truck lurched forward. The engine howled, Pasha howled. I howled. I was gripped by raw, naked terror; the hands with which I was clutching the steering wheel were laced with cold sweat and my chest felt as though it was going to burst. The light at the end of the tunnel was becoming brighter, bigger, closer, my unblinking gaze trained on it as I sped towards it for dear life. Glancing up through the sunroof, I could spot the creature scuttling across the length of the ceiling, its movements almost resembling those of a large spider. Squeezing the last possible bit of effort from my wailing truck, I tightened my grip on the wheel, knuckles turning white as a quiet prayer passed my lips. 

The thing arrived at the end of the tunnel at about the same time I did. Its two long arms swooped down like a bird of prey as it reached for me. My stomach turned, I pressed my eyes shut and, with a feral yank of the wheel, I sent my car swerving, dodging its long, greedy fingers by a hair’s breadth. Bright daylight enveloped me as I emerged from the tunnel. I did not even think of slowing down. I didn’t allow myself to look over my shoulder, but I knew I was safe again when I saw several other cars in the distance ahead. These things only come for me when I’m alone.

Pasha’s yowls had turned into whines and heavy, huffing snorts. I reached over to run a trembling hand through his silky fur. “You okay?” 

My dog leaned into the touch, nosing my lower arm. 

“I had a feeling you were trying to warn me. Sorry I didn’t listen.” I reached into the middle console to grab a small treat for him. He gently closed his teeth around it, careful as he took it from my shaking fingers. God, I love that animal.

We got in line with all the other vehicles. Seeing the other cars and the people behind the windows instilled within me a feeling of intense relief, like the weight of a boulder having been taken off my chest. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, painting the sky pink and ruby red. I watched, my soaring heart rate slowing at the pacifying sight. I didn’t want to have to get out of the car after dark, so I pulled over at the next possible stop. It was a bare, dreary little patch of asphalt where two trucks had parked, their owners most likely asleep inside. I rounded my truck to open the door for Pasha, who seemed all too happy to get his noodle nose out into the fresh air. He took a big dump on the side of the road, drank some water and then experienced a brief episode of the zoomies, likely brought on by the earlier tension.

I was stretching my legs and back as I watched him jump around, but my smile fell when he suddenly went still and ramrod straight. He was staring at something again, something I couldn’t make out. Whatever had caught his attention seemed to be located on the opposite side of the road, but between the cars rushing past and the gentle gleam of the evening redness, I couldn’t make out anything out of the ordinary. Still, I was not about to ignore my dog’s sixth sense again, so I hastily strapped him back into his seat and returned to my spot behind the wheel.

The next twenty minutes passed by uneventfully, but I was admittedly on edge. Pasha was alert, too; sitting upright and staring out the window with an alarming degree of focus. The road dragged on and on, and to my dismay, we were pretty much by ourselves again before long. We had reached the more rural stretch of the route, trees standing tall and dense to either side, seemingly scooting closer and closer as though they wanted to push their way forth to block my path. The moon was climbing higher in the sky by then, its silvery glow keeping my headlights company in the nightly darkness. A weak comfort. 

I never liked this part of the trip. One the one hand, it always means I’m nearing my destination, but I’m just so alone out in the wilderness. Unprotected. No other people, no one to help. No witnesses. Most of my worst experiences have happened while I was driving down this section.

That day would turn out to be no different. 

About an hour into the journey through the woodland was when I first spotted her. A glimpse of white by the side of the road, standing just behind the treeline, only partially visible. Gone in a flash. I shuddered, and my suspicions were confirmed when Pasha uttered a drawn-out, low growl. Here we go again.

Once you’ve seen something that’s caught your attention, you will most likely keep looking for it, even though you should really be focusing on something else. That’s how it was with me. I tried to keep my eyes and mind on the road ahead, looking only at what my headlights illuminated before me. In the back of my head, however, that little glimpse of white was fighting for dominance over my thoughts. I shoved it down, gnawing on my lower lip in hopes that the sting of my teeth would help me stay concentrated. Whenever a being doesn’t outwardly show itself, you can count on it waiting for the right moment. The fuckers are smart. They know how to make you nervous, how to drive you damn near crazy. It’s best not to look at whatever’s happening on the sides of the road. Eyes wide open and ahead, safe and strong and steely. That’s the only way.

I somehow managed to ignore the white spot that drew closer to my car from the left. Two minutes later, I could see her again out of the corner of my eye, approaching from my right this time. Cold dread seeped into my bones, fear pooling in the pit of my stomach like icy water. Pasha started barking again and my teeth drew blood from my lip. I could make out almost her entire form by then. She was small, scrawny, pale and blond. Her white dress fluttered around the bony shovels of her hips like it was spun from cobwebs, and I could see each bone shifting beneath as she moved. She was trying to distract me, I knew she was—too bad it was working. 

It took all my willpower not to slow down, not to abruptly pump the brakes everytime she appeared. My stomach jolted with each sudden appearance of the being, and I could practically feel her patience waning as she drew closer and closer each time in an attempt to startle me. I knew what she wanted. She would only stop when I was dead in a roadside ditch, crushed to jelly by my truck; perhaps wrapped around a tree or lying on its roof. I was not about to give her that satisfaction. 

Once more, I sped up my truck, the engine’s roar like a war cry as Pasha and I shot through the night. I lowered my head, my jaw set and my gaze pointing perfectly straight ahead. And then, seemingly appearing out of thin air, she simply stood in front of my truck, right there in the middle of the road. For a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of her face. It felt like there was an invisible rope tightening around my neck. Two wide, bulbous eyes met mine from within her frame of blond hair. They were sitting in the very middle of her head, taking up far too much space. She had no mouth, no nose, no nothing; just these gigantic, piercing eyes. Pasha let out a howl, panicking as he tugged against his restraint, and while I felt exactly the same, this brief moment of terror was over before it truly began.

A loud thump rang out as the ghostly woman was snatched up by my speeding vehicle, rolling up the hood of the truck before sailing over the roof. I didn’t swerve, didn’t brake, didn’t dare to look in the mirror. I kept on driving, leaving her laying there, wherever it was the momentum of my mighty car had propelled her to. About twenty minutes later, I finally allowed myself to relax, practically melting into my seat. Pasha had drawn himself up beside me, radiating victory, and I smiled and scratched his ear. “We did it, boy.”

I, too, felt weirdly proud of myself. Normally, only one of these things makes a pass at me, but I’d managed to evade two in a row. I was exhausted, my heart was still pounding like a sledgehammer, but damn, I felt good. Pasha and I enjoyed an uneventful remainder of the trip, and when I finally pulled up outside my partner’s remote little cabin, I was ready to drop for the night. The door, adorned by a rabbit’s paw, swung open with an ear-straining creak, and I stepped into the pitch-black interior. This was a comfortable, homely kind of darkness though, and I felt immediately at ease. Taking a deep breath, I sucked in the sweet smell of herbs, oils and incense. Pasha trotted in after me, and a smile came to my face when I heard him starting to munch and slobber away at something beside the entrance. He loves the food my partner makes, and I think it’s adorable of them to put out bowls for him in anticipation of our arrival. They always do that. They’re just so thoughtful.

“Hey, honey,” I called into the room.

“How was your journey, my soul?”

“Ugh.” I plopped down on the sofa beside them, sighing deeply upon feeling one of their four arms wrap around my shoulders. “They’re getting worse. There were two of them this time. I mean, I survived, so I don’t wanna mope around or anything.”

“They’re afraid of the offspring we might create. They want to keep us apart.”

“They won’t.”

[ittakethaway]

My book’s a love letter to every angry woman who’s had enough, & I need more of that energy in my feed

Give me:

- sick of the bullshit

- over ‘boys will be boys’ mentality

- shut up, I’m talking

- matching every trauma they inflicted

[lilahaze]

welcome to the lilahaze collection

hi! my name is rachael (rae); i'm a 19yr old college student, poet and horror author :)

my first publication was a haiku i wrote at age 7: pretty tame compared to what i write currently. i think it's important to talk about societal taboos: trauma, sexuality, chronic illness, etc. first and foremost, i write because i love writing! however, i love to encourage radical acceptance of the unique human experience through my work.

i don't have a set book release date as of yet - i want everything to be perfect. my inspiration is the pure heroine album: raw, uncensored, and in possession of that specific, eerie teenage glow. this poetry collection details concepts from age twelve onward: the formative years of my conscience. writing allows me to process my emotions creatively, leaving plenty of room for the nostalgia and romanticism i revel in.

it means the world to me that you're here; please keep your eyes wide, questions burning, and intellectuality intact.

welcome to the unscripted thoughts of an unreliable narrator.

[importantwomensbirthdays]

Nina Kiriki Hoffman

Science fiction, fantasy, and horror writer Nina Kiriki Hoffman was born in 1955 in San Gabriel, California. Hoffman has written both YA and adult novels, as well as over 250 short stories. She has been shortlisted for every major award in fantasy and science fiction. In 1994, Hoffman won a Bram Stoker Award for her novel The Thread That Binds the Bones. In 2008, she won a Nebula Award for Best Short Story for "Trophy Wives".

[metal-autistic-coven]

I'm redoing the main character gender poll thingy because I didn't have enough time to include all the things I wanted to and tumblr doesn't let you edit polls.

I'm not sure whether to have the main character of a horror/drama story I have be transmasc or transfem.

And before you bring up trans nonbinary people, I know but I feel like I've written a lot of nb characters already(see my OCs in the pinned post) and I want to give more attention to binary trans people cause they're just as important.

I feel like there's more transfeminine characters in media than there are transmasculine characters, but also I do already have a transmasc character in my au. From what I've seen, transfems do seem to face more discrimination and outward hate, but transmascs are often forgotten in focuses on transfems. I don't want to ignore either one, but I don't have a way to do both that works with this particular story I have in mind.

The basic idea for the story is like a possession horror movie, but from the start it's clear that the kid isn't possessed. The kid is also undiagnosed autistic and depressed, and they are trying to deal with and hide the trauma from the way their evangelical parents try to "help them be more normal" and "protect them from sin."

[cosmicbirch8]

[morganmaietto]

Writeblr Intro

Hello, nice to meet everyone, I’m Morgan Maietto, formerly, rubywrite! I decided to fully re-edit my writeblr intro.

A Little About Me:

I just recently turned 22 and I’m in college to get a masters degree in English. I’m planning on becoming a published author in the future.

Likes: I like reading, writing, swimming and hiking. I love all animals.

Email: rubyiswritingbooks@gmail.com

About My Writing:

Most of the things I’ll be writing will be sfw, but I will also be writing darker horror stories, I will label them nsfw or 18+.

The genres I will mainly be writing in are fantasy, sci-fi, horror and mystery. (I don’t know, is paranormal it’s own genre?)

I have a lot of WIPs now, they’ll be in the linked section below if anyone wants to check them out. The main WIP is “The Mirror Effect” it’s a fantasy/supernatural series I’m working on.

I also am working on:

“Only Imaginary” which is a supernatural story (I’m not sure about it being a series yet.)

“Into The Stars” is a fantasy series.

“You’re Being Hunted” is a horror series, this will be 18+.

“It Started With a Fire” (working on title) is a supernatural story.

“Spruce Hollow” is a detective mystery/supernatural story.

“How Jack Met Phoebe” is a romance story about the MCs of “The Mirror Effect” parents love story.

“Christmas Love Story” is a romance story. I don’t normally like reading or writing romance books but I started writing this almost two years ago, wanting to write a cheesy love story, and I recently found it again and fell in love with the characters in it. I was planning on writing it more during the holiday season this year.

I also have 15 untitled stories I’m planning on hopefully getting to asap.

Links To My Stuff and Other Important Things:

My WIPs

Profile picture by DJarn on picrew

Halloween (2023) Pfp by gabbydarienzo on picrew

Background photo made by seth0s on Pixabay

Halloween background by Anugrah Lohiya on pixabay

[remedyxtragedy]

Other smaller stories/books/plays I'm working on and will later provide descriptions on--

Seize The Day, Coxswain! (play)

The Blight of A Christian Misanthrope (autobiography)

The Horromedy (collection of various short and absurd stories)

Sever The Unity (book)

Sardonic Sanctum (play)

I Don't Wanna Be The Punchline Anymore (collection of poems)

The Hand They Bite With Rage (Book, The big Idiosyncratic prequel that unravels everything. Gonna be a while till I start working on it though)

The Halo Defect (book)

Dearth of The Design (book)

Fall All Around Me (book)

My Doll Sincere (play)

Heaven went to Hell (book)