To find your way to the Shadowlands, the twilight realm where the Night Things dwell, you must first pay homage to the Raven Queen. The customary offering is a bushel of dates, left under under an oak tree at midnight on the eve of the new moon. She is most hungry when the air is cool and there are more leaves on the ground than in the trees, but some have reported reported rare success when the world is still vibrant and green.
At the beginning of the month, I issued a challenge to myself to produce a short story a week for each of the four weeks of March. At the time, I anticipated writing four disconnected stories that were joined by a common topic. Instead, I’ve stumbled into a cast of recurring characters who I really enjoy writing about.
Therefore, I’m going to issue a different challenge to myself. I’m going to turn the Sacred Geometry stories into an ongoing series starring Scarlett, the paranormal blogger.
Happy Halloween!
To celebrate the season of ghouls and ghosts, I posted five horror stories during the month of October: four flash-fiction-length and one short story. Thanks to everyone who read along and commented on the stories - I certainly appreciated all of the encouragement and I had a lot of fun writing them.
For those that might have missed them, the five stores are:
The Girl with the Ebony Eyes
Jim stomped on the brakes, but the car kept moving. He jerked the wheel to the right, just as Cheryl screamed, and the car flew off the side of the rain-slicked road, crashing through the guard rail with a deafening screech of metal on metal before careening down the embankment.
The descent simultaneously took forever and an instant. They crashed through brush, bushes, branches; over rocks and dirt and gravel before slamming into the bottom of the ravine.
“Oh, no,” Maggie thought as she watched the wasp crawl out of her ear, “Not again.” She’d been in the middle of brushing her teeth when she caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, and she stopped and stared at her reflection in the mirror as the creature emerged.
“No, no, no,” she thought as the wasp unfurled its wings. She didn’t want to startle it, so she held very still – her toothbrush in one hand and toothpaste in the other.
Robert nearly flipped over the handlebars of his bike when he saw the sign. Nestled between a poorly pruned shrub and a table full of household junk for sale, the cardboard, hand-lettered sign read, “Free Rent.”
As a bike messenger who liked to spend most of his money getting high, a rent-free apartment was akin to manna from heaven.
“I don’t know, it sounds fishy,” Jessica said with a toss of her auburn hair.
Running into the woman that paid to have you killed for your life insurance is enough to startle anyone. She strolled by, as the setting summer sun warmed the nape of my neck, wearing the cornflower dress that I bought her last summer and the black pumps that were two sizes too big – the ones that her heels popped out of with each step. I caught her distinctive gait out of the corner of my eye while I sopped up a plate of olive oil and sea salt with the remnants of a warm baguette.
John couldn’t think of a single good reason for a severed head to be in his bathtub. Not one. There was no blood to speak of – just a cleanly severed head lying in the center of the tub, staring up at the ceiling.
He struggled with how to react. He thought about vomiting, but the lack of blood failed to create a visceral impact – and he’d never been particularly squeamish to begin with.
It’s October, which means that it’s high time for some horror stories. Each Friday this month, I’ll presenting a different short story for your reading pleasure. I hope you enjoy them. Stay tuned for the first installment tomorrow.
Well, that wraps up the short stores that were part of the Ceramic DM 2007 writing tournament. Thanks to everyone for reading!
