January Micro Fiction Horror

Micro Fiction Horror

For the month of January, these are the micro-fiction horror stories that interest us the most

* A Love That Kills by Steven Bruce

* Missionary's Burden by Wyatt Codd

* Feast by Quinten Crook

* Down After Dark by Natalie J. Potell

* Tale of a Beauty and a Beast by Laura Cody

* Predator by Page Ng

* Blood Drained by Katherine Sankey

* Silver is a Girl's Best Friend by Julie Brandon

* Inkblot by Greig Thomson

* Arabella, SN 7467332, Missing, Possibly Dangerous by J. L. Royce

* Open Wide by Toshiya Kamei

* Over for Dinner by K.G. McLeod

* Blended by Maekawa Kirin

* Recipe for Death by Joe Wocoski

* Peep Box by Simon Steven

A Love That Kills
by
Steven Bruce

Dr. Abbot steadied his scalpel above the patient’s chest. His assistant leaned in, her smile dark and wide.

"Do it," she whispered. "It’s been three years already."

The blade cut clean and precise. He cracked the ribcage, exposing the slick, pounding heart.

Her fingers pressed against it as their lips met in a feverish kiss. The heart shuddered. She tightened her grip. The patient’s eyes narrowed as a gasp escaped the gag. Stillness.

"What shall we say this time?" she said.

"Complications. Nobody will suspect a thing."

Her fingers traced idle patterns in the blood. "They never do," she said.

Steven Bruce is a writer and multiple-award-winning author. His poems and short stories have appeared in numerous international anthologies and magazines. In 2018, he graduated from Teesside University with a master’s degree in creative writing. An English expatriate, he now lives and writes full-time in Poland.

Missionary's Burden
by
Wyatt Codd

The deacon’s knuckles stung white around the deck’s thin railing, holding tight against the bucking of the waves. He was not afraid of the sea, but he had never been fond of it. Not his realm, he’d said. Not his god’s. But needs must.

Ahead, the shore loomed out of a crest of clouds, the sounds of port drifting atop the tide, and the thing in his gut quivered with anticipation.

One hand loosed the rail and twined to the pendant on his chest, its sharp edges biting into the soft flesh.

"Soon, Mad One. We will feed."

Raised in the cold grey of eastern New Hampshire, Wyatt has always felt close with the weird and dreary. A theater manager by day, he scribbles away whatever time he can, dreaming of the things we cannot see. Most recently, a short thriller he wrote premiered at the Monadnock International Film Festival in September, 2024.

Feast by Quinten Crook

There was a sickening snap of bones and gristle and sinew as the creature plucked the limb from the body. “Feast...” the creature said, “Feast...” Slowly, as if the measure of time was counted by its movement, the creature moved the leg up to its mouth.

The creature’s mouth dropped strands of drool over the crispy skin. “Feast...” said the creature, “Feast for me.” It plopped a handful of plants into a large cauldron, followed by the screams of a thousand souls. The creature let out a soft chuckle that was like the rasping of insects in a chorus.

“Feast....”

Down After Dark
by
Natalie J. Potell

It was not the tumultuous relationship with her husband that was on her mind, nor the burnt roast cooling out back in the snow—though Emily had left the cabin after dark because of the fight that ensued, as it always did.

No.

As she stood by the lake, there was a slight shimmer in the sand that stole her attention. She bent down and plucked up the finger—an anhydrous gray with a tarnished band of silver. It looked weak now in its aged state. Emily recognized it immediately as her mother’s.

Damn the woman for not staying down.

As a former Firefighter, Natalie J. Potell enjoys infusing her writing with the body horror she has seen in real life. She now works as a book editor and can be found at Ignitionediting.com.

Tale of a Beauty and a Beast
by
Laura Cody

She came to in a cold, dim cinderblock room, strapped to a rickety gurney. Rank smells of copper and decay tinged the air. A demented, off-key voice sang, “I’m a little teapot...” In her
peripheral vision, an enormous, cloaked figure sorted tools at a worktable.

“Bonjour, Madame.” A man wearing a headlamp appeared at the foot of the bed, his eye sockets sewn shut. “I’m Lumiere.”

The gag stifled her screams.

“Master will call you ‘Belle.’ He says for a bell to ring, it must be hollow.”

Beast stepped forward, growling a happy work tune as claws tore into flesh.

Laura Cody is a forensic psychiatrist, fiction writer, and lover of books. Her short fiction has appeared in the journals Lakeshore Review and Ponder Review and online for Coffin Bell, Bewildering Stories, WitCraft, The Australian Writer’s Centre (Top Pick for Furious Fiction, June 2024) and Cosmopolitan (fiction contest finalist, 2014) amongst others.

Predator
by
Page Ng

I can’t breathe. I can’t even move. He came back different, all those weeks ago, and I should’ve known that the moment he kissed me on the cheek and told me he’d missed me.

Then came the gifts, the dinners, and the steady, certain love. None of it was him, I could tell very well, but I just couldn’t help myself. It’s all I’ve wanted for so long, and people change, don’t they? I’m worth changing for.

Now, it’s got me, completely. I don’t need to look to know that it’s split my husband’s lips into a wide, mocking grin.

Page Ng is a sixth-form student from Malaysia. She has never been published before. Predominantly, Paige writes short and micro stories; her favourite genres are fantasy and horror.

Blood Drained
by
Katherine Sankey

I brought the child to the rain-soaked hilltop as the twilight died away and fed his arm through the hole in the great standing stone, barely hoping it would work. It did. He screeched in pain as the rock bit into his limb and began its leeching. Hungrily, I watched bloody runes appear on the rough granite surface. Runes of untold power. Then my vision went strange. I felt cold and weak. Fool! I had been warned it might know. I had cheated....and now... I collapsed into the mud as the boy laughed. His mouth was full of jagged rock.

Katherine Sankey is a freelance writer from the East Midlands, England. Her work has appeared in Daily Science Fiction, Flash Point Science Fiction, Every Day Fiction, Coffin Bell, Black Hare Press anthologies and an anthology for Wicked Shadow Press. She is currently studying Comparative Literature at the University of Kent.

Silver is a Girl's Best Friend
by
Julie Brandon

The creak on the stairs woke her. Marlene lived in an old farmhouse in the country. She’d gotten used to how the shutters banged on a windy night, and rain bounced off the tin roof. But that creak penetrated her sleep. The air shifted as the bedroom door was silently pushed open. They’d finally found her. Marlene reached for the gun under her pillow and fired, hitting her target. The body hit the floor with a thud. Marlene smiled as she rearranged her pillows. She made a mental note to order more silver bullets.

Julie Brandon is a playwright, poet and writer of short works. Her work has appeared in Bewildering Stories, Detangled Brains, Corner Bar Magazine, Fresh Words, Mini Plays Review, Awakenings Review, Bright Flash Literary Review and Witcraft among others. Julie's poetry collection, "My Tears, Like Rain", was published June 2024. She lives in a Chicago, IL suburb.

Inkblot by Greig Thomson

It was the scratching in the roof that woke me, but when I turned on the lamp, it stopped. It was the screaming from the moonlit street that roused me again, and outside, there was nothing, just the wisping of the wind. From the corner of my eye, a great inkblot, an aberration, lumbered across the roof, over to the other side. It was a clandestine darkness that lived beyond the periphery, ever-present but always just out of reach.

Greig Thomson has just completed his First-Class Honours in Creative Writing at the University of Adelaide. His work focuses on 'trans-realism' and altered mind states such as dreams, hallucinations, and psychosis. Thomson has recently been published in 'The Phoenix Literary Journal', 'The Watershed Review', 'God's Cruel Joke Literary Magazine', 'Ginosko Literary Journal', and 'Mande Literary Magazine'.

Arabella, SN 7467332, Missing,
Possibly Dangerous
by
J. L. Royce

Arabella shuffled into the room, short satin robe in crimson revealing endless legs. Her other outfit, a floor-length gown of diaphanous lace, was impractical for housework.

“Why are you limping?” he asked. This model tended to motor tics. “What’s for supper?” Slouched in his chair, he eyed her, daydreaming of the evening, involving ropes and a gag. “Well?”

Arabella bent close, dirty blonde waves shadowing her face. “Meat.”

Too late he saw the bloodless gash in her perfect thigh, the titanium rod she brandished, dripping hydraulic fluid.

“What are you doing?”

“What I must.” The tip penetrated his chest.

J. L. Royce is an author of science fiction, the macabre, and whatever else strikes him. He lives in the northern reaches of the American Midwest, exploring the wilderness without and within. His work appears in Alien Dimensions, Allegory, Cosmic Horror Monthly, Fifth Di, Fireside, Ghostlight, Love Letters to Poe (Visiter Award winner), Lovecraftiana, Mysterion, parABnormal, Penumbric, Sci Phi, Strange Aeon, Utopia, Wyldblood, etc. He is a member of WWA, HWA, and GLAHW. Some of his anthologized stories may be found at: www.jlroyce.com.

Open Wide
by
Toshiya Kamei

The package was empty except for a scribble: “Wrong choice: you shouldn’t have opened me.”

I tried to laugh it off, but my mug dropped to the floor. I knelt to grab the shards but sharp pain wormed through me.

I gasped and clutched at my chest. “How could I have known not to look?”

Desperate, I clawed for the note. The letters wiggled. It now read: “It’s my turn!”

My mouth popped open like the package, and I spat out my severed tongue. I screamed as my eyeballs pushed from their sockets.

The note, in blood-red ink: “Open wide.”

Toshiya Kamei (she/her) is a queer Asian writer who takes inspiration from fairy tales, folklore, and mythology.

Over for Dinner
by
K.G. McLeod

“Good?” His date asks.

“Delicious,” squeaks Jorge, chewing.

She smiles approvingly, as does the rest of her family.

“I worried you didn’t like it,” she says, “you’re sweating so much, I thought mom slipped you hot peppers!”

The table laughs. Jorge tries to laugh, too.

“Look,” his date says, lifting something off her plate, “a gold filling.”

“Had a gold wedding ring, too,” her mother adds.

Jorge continues chewing, fighting the mounting nausea. He avoids looking at his dinner’s contorted face or the people in the nearby cage, dubbed “the pantry.” He needs to focus on forcing himself to swallow.

K.G. McLeod lives in Western Canada. You can contact K.G. on X/Twitter under the handle @kgAlberta.

Blended
by
Maekawa Kirin

I awoke to loud crying past midnight.

"Honey, I think he's hungry. Could you feed him?" Emily groaned.

With one eye barely open, I cradled Tim and went to the kitchen, mixing some milk and heating it as I stifled a yawn.

My stomach grumbled amid Tim's crying. "A shake would be nice."

I grabbed a handful of fruits and tossed them into the blender, too sleepy to choose. The harsh
grinding of the blades drowned out Tim's cries.

"Honey, is Tim with you?" Emily asked while drowsily approaching me.

Looking down at the blender, I realized my horrible mistake.

Maekawa Kirin was a closet writer but is now putting out his works for all to see. Born in the Philippines and studying to be an engineer, he has competed in all kinds of writing contests—fiction, essay, research, and poetry—at the national level. He mainly writes horror to make up for the scary, disgusting, and weird ideas he had as a kid that remained unwritten. You can find him on Facebook (Maekawa Kirin) and read some of his works on Royal Road: https://www.royalroad.com/profile/319274/fictions

Recipe for Death
by
Joe Wocoski

I laughed so hard when I found out how I died, then I whined and screamed, “It was a stupid death! It’s not fair! I demand my life back! I am a famous chef! I’ll sue!”

Death chuckled in my face. “And who will you sue, God?”

Infuriated, I could not come up with an answer, for I realized I had died on my kitchen
floor.

Death laughed at me, “I took you because you are a klutz, a hazard to society. You tried to lick cake batter off a plugged-in electric beater cord.”

I sighed, “Can I go now?”

JB Wocoski retired in 2015. He enjoys his retirement afterlife by writing and self-publishing short stories and poetry. In 2016, he won the Little Tokyo Short Story Competition with the Si-Fi story, “The Last Master of Go”. His stories have appeared in various Horror and Sci-Fi anthologies and online magazines. For your coffee breaks and reading pleasure his flash fiction and poetry books are available on Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/stores/JB-Wocoski/author/B01K8Q0KGO

Peep Box
by
Simon Steven

"Roll up, roll up, come take a peep in the box from hell."

The crowd exchanged their pennies and gazed through the viewfinder. One by one they
screamed.

Hours passed. Some vomited. Others ran in terror. All that remained was a pasty boy in torn rags.

"No penny, aye. Well, take a look for free."

The lad grabbed the viewfinder, and the man turned a handle. First, his eye was sucked into the machine, brains followed, and then his innards. Rags and a wet pile of skin slumped to the ground.

"Thanks, you’ll make a lovely addition to tomorrow’s show."

Simon Steven lives and writes out of Norfolk England. He has publications as a feature writer and in flash fiction. Simon’s varied stories love to paddle in the pool of the human condition. That’s when they’re not diving into the dark depths of despair and misery in search of an alternative light source.