Welcome to our 2018 50 Word Horror Story Halloween Contest! Here is our BIGGEST contest this year. You know how much we love Halloween, and instead of giving you promotional money, we are giving out hard cash. We’ve decided to change the monetary prize to the 50 word contest. In the past our 500 word contest would carry a promotion prize, and publication, but honestly we didn’t get the amount of submissions we wanted. This year, we want it right here on this page. We are giving out 500$ to the winner of this contest! The deadline is October 28, 2018. We will announce the winners on Halloween Night in our movie and chat. There will be a 2nd and 3rd place winner, but there is no money given for those positions.
Here are the rules of our contest
Stories:
- Must be high quality horror stories
- Must be 50 words or under
- Must be a complete story
- Have to be in before our deadline.
- Deadline is October 28, 2018
- Enter as many stories as you like!
- Post your story in the comments below.
- Scariest Story Wins
We will announce the winners in a movie chat night, like every Halloween.
What you win:
- Your story will be placed on a tile and shared on our social networks
- You will get a winning announcement post with links to your books and/or website
- You will win $500 cash.
We hope to also do a print issue this year, but no promises, we’ve had a lot of trouble with this in the past. We want your best 50 word horror story! POST THEM BELOW DO NOT SEND EMAILS.
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“That’s great! Another tooth!” Laurie praised Madeline. “Put this under under your pillow for the tooth fairy.”
“These ones too?” Madeline asked holding up a grocery bag. Laurie looked in it to see it full of bloody teeth.
“W-where-?”
“She said she needed more. A lot more.” Madeline whispered.
“Mittens, stop.” Jane moaned to her cat as she felt licking on her toes. It stopped momentarily before continuing. Jane checked her phone.
“Jane, Mittens died last night. Took him to vet. Be back soon.”
Jane looked at the lump under her covers as the licks turned to nibbles.
chilling
Ooh, you DO look scary. Here’s your treat. Wait…Where’s your Mommy ? …At home?…Oh, now, come on, you don’t hate her…Well, she must’ve let you go trick-or-treating after all, because here you are, a VERY scary murderer! And what a realistic eyeball your Mommy’s stuck on that knitting-needle!
A fabulous twist at the end! ? But, why are there so many stories about people killing their mothers? ?
Thanks! I don’t know; I’ve never written a story about matricide before – I usually go for the husband. ;
Denial.
This isn’t happening…
Anger.
My fingers throb from splinters, a result of ineffective clawing at the abrasive wood which confines me…
Bargaining.
How many Hail Mary’s have I said?
Depression.
Thoughts of people I will never see again…
Acceptance.
I allow the unsympathetic darkness to envelope me – good-bye life…
Nice use of a psychological principle. ???
Pumpkin Juice
“Mommy, can I have more of that pumpkin juice?”
“Sure, you can, sweetheart!” The mother takes the glass from her daughter and goes into the cellar. Down there was her husband’s mutilated corpse. She raised the glass to his throat and collected his blood, bringing it back to her daughter.
has potential, but i lost the intimacy at the mother
I have a special little plant, and it holds a secret.
Within its soil, there are some bones from my ex-boyfriend. They fertilized the soil for me.
I look out the window to my massive oak tree.
You don’t want to know what I did with the rest of him.
Pretty cool! ? (Maybe, it’s the plant lover in me.)
Did you know that people really grow trees from human ashes? Check out The Living Urn (thelivingurn.com).
There was something so comforting to the child about the sound of her own inhaling and exhaling. A gust of air flowed through her open bedroom window. The sudden chill made her catch her breath momentarily– however, the breathing sound never missed a beat.
That’s really good!!
I like this one a lot! ? Title?
Isabella never felt special. She was constantly picked on and cast aside. But tonight, she was getting a chance to date a guy who had everything. Isabella prettied herself as the doorbell rang. Very soon, her date would wind up bound in her basement with all of the other corpses.
Going trick-or-treating is supposed to be fun, this year it was everything but that. My mom trusted me to go with my friends Lilly and Nasiya. My mom and I both trusted them, not a good idea. She made boundries, but the haunted house was just beyond, why not? Right?
Did you hear that? A noise is coming from my closet”. “There’s nothing in your closet! Go To BED!”
“Mommy Please!”
Slowly opening the door she sees Marly curled in a ball.
Choking on her sobs Marly whispers, “Mommy that’s not me. She turns slowly to see a sinister smile.
That’s scary!!
“Judy, I have to work late, I won’t be home until later tonight. Dinner is in the fridge,” the answering machine blared. Someone who looked just like Judy’s mother erased the message, and went into the kitchen. As the snarling imposter sharpened her knives, Judy arrived home from school.
She’s a plain girl with no feminine beauty
So under my knife I remove, reedit, readjust sculpting this once simple girl into a perfect being
But not good enough…
I cut more…subtracting, transforming, forming…
Don’t beg me to stop
Embrace the change
Now…covered in blood…you are more beautiful than ever
This sound so gory and i love it!
“…oh…monster…”
My 3 year old nephew is doing it again…
Yes, I know…a monster…from the movie…
“…m-monster…”
I sighed then turned around…
There, in front of the little boy is a ghastly beast hanging down from the ceiling.
A large mouth grinning sinisterly as it extends a hand to him.
Molly had awoke from a dream about the old gods.
Restless, she walked down to the creek where she came apon a wooden boat.
It floated eerily in the foggy night…
Molly took slow footsteps into the boat.
She stepped in, lied down, crossed her arms, and burst into flames.
I closed the stall door and quickly undid my pants. The pain was unbearable.
I pushed, grunted, gripped, shook and occasionally emitted a wincing moan. I knew there would be blood.
Standing to finish business, the bloody black disgust crawled up the bowl. Thinking I would vomit, I passed out..
That has to be the weirdest monster origin story that I’ve ever read…? Good job!
She smiled wickedly as she retrieved the fake rubber head from the cupboard. It had always scared her younger brother. Butcher’s hooks impaled the eyelids and held the bulbous, blind eyes open. A grey tongue protruded from a mouth stretched wide in a silent scream. “Happy Halloween”… Then it screamed.
I like it! ?
Heartbeat.
I push the door open.
Heartbeat.
My eyes scan the parking garage, the teeth of my car keys bite the skin between my fingers. Heartbeat.
The ever-growing space between me and my car.
Heartbeat.
The millisecond it takes to notice the man a second too late.
Heartbeat.
Heartbeat.
Heartbeat.
I love the use of repetition to build suspense. ?
Dale’s gym backpack felt unusually heavy as he pulled it from the locker. Blood seeped from the bag as he placed it on the tile floor. Crimson liquid pooled beneath it. He unzipped the pack, gingerly. There, among his rumpled clothes, was a severed human head staring back at him. .
The nail-biter: how did the head get there? Maybe, Dale’s just a psychopath?
“Welcome To My Imaginary Halloween Home For Treat”
The theme for Halloween- “U Are Gone”
Today is my day, my night and my time,
So I
Welcome everyone to my Scary Halloween Party Night:
Let’s Begin,
A rhyming poem on the night of Halloween,
If You are old or young
Don’t get Bold in the cold of night
Hallows are waiting in their horrific makeup and costumes to give thrilling pleasure so
Hold your nerves so you not get bowled for the time
It’s just the beginning of the Halloween night the whole script is yet to be played, the theme for all that comes is in fiction mind”.
This is the day where I rule at night,
no matter how the plan to bring all faces to realistic
Which Is waiting to thrill you from inside out for the whole night?
The Theme for the night is a mysterious hat with a creepy to illusion active lights of the shadow of an eerie mask. Hence, it’s a creature for evil spiritual faces to make it a ready quote label for the Party night, will mark out to be the Best Halloween night.
I bet this party will be an intriguing experience of life.
Party Invitation:
Date: 31st Oct at 11 pm
Venue: Hallow Town Of Eve Street
Costume: Creepy Hat with a Long Spooky Coat dual colors of red and black. Halloween imagery abstract tattoos are complimentary at the end of the party night
Menu card name :
Special Spooky Party Menu.
Starter:
Blood Soup with Cheese Croutons & Fried Nail with elbow Cluster.
Main courses:
Twisted leg With crispy Shoulder
& Roasted Pepper teeth with Blood drink.
King Nose Sizzler with Sticky Ears. Desserts:
Pudding Skin Custard Creme.
Complimentary gift:
In the end, you will get a chance to meet the most beautiful Halloween girl of the night for an hour So plan for it to Rome to comb your fairytale inside your arm and enjoy the night.
Hope u have enjoyed my Invitation card.
so plz dare to come & enjoy the scary night to remain until the next time.
Thank-you.
-Chirayu!
A shiver raced up my spine as the screech of an owl and midnight bell toll echoed simultaneously through the graveyard. Perhaps it was a poor route choice – a thought collaborated by the sudden rush of fear and gurgling sound as fat, calloused fingers tightened around my throat.
“DON’T MAKE ME BRING IT OUT!”
“DO IT!” The crowd goads.
The bully increased pressure on the boy’s chest, pinning him to the locker.
Something flashed by. His pressing hand is sliced from his wrist. Blood splashes the mortified boy.
The tail lashed as if waving to the stunned crowd.
Title for the 50 Word Anthology: PEER PRESSURE
Stacy felt like Cinderella. If she didn’t get home before midnight her stepmother would take it out on her little brother. Her bicycle blew a tire. Benjy would be bruised from head to toe, trying to be brave. There wouldn’t be a next time Stacy vowed..Not for that bitch.
ROACHES
Somehow a roach crawled in my ear as I slept. I awoke and rushed to the hospital ER where a doctor removed it but warned it could have laid eggs.
Three weeks later I felt movement in my head.
“They’ve hatched,” I screamed. “And they’re in my brain.”
We were skinny dipping in Tom’s pool, all a little bit high. His parents were away for the weekend. Then we saw Joan who hadn’t been invited pouring something in the water. “Get out if you can” she chortled. Nobody could move and we sank like stones hearing her laugh….
I study the cracks in the popcorn-ceiling. I don’t move my arms from around his neck. I just let them hang there while he grunts and pounds into the inside of my thighs. The effort is there. I turn my head towards the window and sigh. The desire is not.
“Carla dear, I’m home!” glancing around the foyer, I make my way to the living room. “Do you want to go grab something to eat from town?” Out the back door, I spot her, floating in a rope halo beneath the Oak. I drop my keys and run to her.
That thump didn’t come from a dream or the cat. That thump left no doubt that she was not alone in her home at the end of the lonely lane. Besides she didn’t have a cat. She remained frozen with fear until the hall light blazed to life.
I shouldn’t have made the appointment on Halloween. She wasn’t my regular hygienist but I was stuck in the chair. “Now rinse” she said. There was smoke coming out from the cup “Go ahead” she insisted smiling, “It will rinse away the blood”–she paused, laughing–“and also your throat”.
I always knew being a rich kid would put me in a bad situation at one point. Now, here I stood, one hand holding scissors, the other holding my phone to my ear. “Cut the red cord” he says. I look at the bomb. If only I weren’t color blind.
Ironic and very funny. ?
They’ll never find the girls I’ve taken and murdered. People never look through garbage bags that are on the side of the curb, or in your friendly neighbor’s freezer, or even in the pigs’ slop. I get away with these murders, because no one looks in the right places.
There is a cat floating in your bathroom. You don’t know how it got there, or why it is there at all. Its eyes are black voids; its teeth are red and razor sharp. It stares at you, licking its lips. It jumps, and phases through your chest.
Interesting! ? I LOVE cats…dead, demonic, or alive.
Somehow a roach crawled in my ear as I slept. I awoke and rushed to the hospital ER where a doctor removed it but warned it might have laid eggs.
Three weeks later I felt movement in my head.
“My God,” I screamed. “They’ve hatched. They’re in my brain.”
I stare down into the black, watery abyss. The sea roils and white alien eyes look back, no hint of humanity. My blood freezes, the muscles turn limp. Leathery tendrils shoot out, pull me in. Bubbly screams turn to respiteless drowning. The massive maw beckons, the yellow teeth tearing flesh.
He fell from comedy in controversy.
The crew thought he was joking about it. “There’s something on the wing!”
As he escaped from the station, now an exploding ball of wreckage, it jumped onto his pod.
He fell to Earth and he prayed. “Please don’t let it survive the stop.”
Title for the 50 Word Anthology: THE FALL
Daphne was ready to retire the night. She undressed, her hand tickling the closet’s handle when the doorbell sounded.
“Come, birthday girl, let’s go!” Tasha insisted.
Reluctantly, she complied.
In the car, Daphne received a text from an unknown number.
It read, “Aren’t you glad you didn’t open the closet?”
The hospital was eerily silent. Nicole lay there, paralyzed by the car accident she’d had one month ago. Now, everyone was dead. She was starving and knew she’d die soon. She closed her eyes and fell asleep. When she awoke, and the Devil was at her bedside.
In poker, you were either all in or not. This year’s annual poker tournament was no different. I looked at my cards and the one’s on the table—a straight. I took the knife and messily cut my finger with a cry before laying it beside others. All in, baby.
“Honey, why do you have all of these scratches on your arm?” Maggie asked.
“I had to help Billy get in.”
“Billy? Who’s that?”
Maggie suddenly saw her daughter’s eyes turn pitch black.
“I am,” she growled.
Nice! ? You should submit it for the anthology.
I lifted my camera, focused, and clicked. The picture was of my crush, Maurice Davidson, walking mindlessly into school with blank eyes. I looked at the picture, and my heart stopped. There was something dark around him… something evil with no face. Only a mouth with too any teeth.
Thomas walked into the school laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face. People looked at him strangely because he was alone, but me, I could see something in his eyes. Something like fear, something crying for help . I knew then that the thing laughing was not Thomas.
Your Words
Prince Mohammed shook his head, “Jamal, your thoughts, your words…terrify me.”
“I only write the truth.”
Mohammed placed his hand over his heart, “‘Shoot first, aim later?’ Your words hurt.”
Khashoggi’s words froze. Arabs in Italian suits bled from the shadows, ear buds and bone saws in hand.
My face is flushed from hanging upside down. Suddenly the doll demon-thing is climbing my torso. I flail and suddenly I am falling and running. I run blindly through a door and slam it shut. I turn and find I am in my bedroom.
“Don’t want to be a Pirate for Halloween” the 4 year old pouted. “How about a ghost”. Don’t want to be a ghost”. “What then”? “An axe murderer! And I’ll show you I can do it!” He put our beloved cat’s head on the kitchen floor. Where’s my son?
Nice! This has a lot of potentials. It needs a little editing, though.
She struggled to read over her daughter’s shoulder.
“You realize…,” I said, trying to comfort her.
Her voice strangled, half snarl, half whimper. “Of course I know I’m dead.”
“Then why are you still reading the obituaries?”
The same conversation we’d been having, over and over, for 27 years.
I love it. My parents jokingly, of course, often check the obits to make sure they’re not dead. This story reminded me of that. Title name?
First The Finger
“It was supposed to be a joke!”
The bones tattooed along Frank’s finger were extremely realistic.
“Looks great. What’s the problem?” I said.
“Don’t you see? There’s no muscle left, it’s wasting away! My finger is shrinking to fit the tattoo.” Frank’s voice cracked, “And the tattoo is spreading.”
At night, when the curtains were open and the bedroom light off, she would look into the field to watch the deer run.
Tonight, a man stood in the field. She reached for her binoculars, then turned to see him standing just outside the window, bloody hands on the glass.
Beneath the dirt:
I scream and claw at the wooden box I woke in, my hands are bloody. I pound my fists harder trying to be heard, dirt sprinkles down on my face, all I hear are my own screams. I search my sides; to my delight I find a flashlight and flick it on pointing it upward only to scream louder, My finger nails are gone; something inhales my hair, I’m not alone in the wooden box *Gasp* the light goes out.
Falling Apart at the Scene
In the midnight moonlight, three teens leave the theater. “That’s the same owl we saw just before the werewolf attack!” said Penny.
“What if werewolves really exist?” asked Jerome.
“Look out!” shouted Katrina.
A dark furred figure bit and clawed them apart.
I Know Better
My poor body lies motionless in bed from the torture of an evil imposter.
Her spell blocks my words and quiets my screams – such a despicable witch!
She smirks when they call her sleep paralysis.
I dressed as a dentist for Halloween. My inspiration? Try watching Rudolph on acid.
I opened my eyes to the sand, the water, a brilliant cerulean sky. All I could think about was the oven in my kitchen, still set to 400 degrees.
“Daddy, where do babies come from?”
I sit in the therapist’s office, replaying that night.
“Use them to cover yourself!” she whispered to me, frantic as she tried to pile more bodies on her uncovered ankles. I saw it in my peripheral.
I strained to open the door with all of my most prized possessions in hand, finally selling them to afford a set of diamond earrings for my wife’s birthday. As I walked into the pawn shop, I noticed her slipping her wedding band off and handing it to the man at the counter.
I heard a guttural scream from behind.
“It’s not real,” Sarah laughed ahead of me, moving into the other room.
As she turned the corner, a blade sliced thick into her jugular.
I felt something hot on my face as her blood sprayed.
The house was no longer here, what I had traveled three weeks to see once again.
Stepping from the car, I watched as the road that led me to this place slowly started fading into the earth.
The more I tried to run, the quicker it cored my stomach. Screams were lost with the wind, with the others, as I let my fate wash over in tar and yellow fingernails.
Our president stepped from his jet this morning without his wife, toilet paper on his shoe. His tupe was lost in the North Korean wind.
The blind man was first to the door, slowly twisting the knob, not expecting him. I wanted to scream, to warn him, but my vocal cords lay with my right foot in a pile of red on the linoleum.
“This should help,” the doctor said, handing me a cup of tea.
I had just received a transplant for taste buds, and my first sip was fuzzy.
“Taste’s like almonds,” I responded, my nose scrunching.
“Happy birthday,” I sighed, curling my hands against my hair and pulling.
The hair was thick in my mouth, but soft, like her feet when she was born.
I missed her, but I didn”t regret what I had done.
When they arrived at the gate, we brought our dogs, our men, and attacked.
“Rejected,” the e-mail read.
“Again?” I sighed, walking to another man strapped on the wall and slitting his esophagus. After it was over, I untied him and dragged him to the pile.
“You’d think they would’ve known better by now.”
“Mommy! My closet!”
Jolted by her son’s blood-curdling cry, she races to his bedroom. The moonlight outlines his figure hiding in a dark corner.
Suddenly, the closet door slams shut! She cautiously opens it, only to find her son inside whispering, “It’s behind you.”
No time to scream.
Halloween—perfect time for revenge. Acid will do the most damage but won’t kill him. I want him alive and suffering forever. He’ll look like one of the monsters he writes about. And I want him to know who did this. He’s the one who raped my daughter.
The Devil’s Own
It was the summer of 1692 and all hell had broken loose in Salem. Hysteria swept the town as the innocent were accused of being in league with the devil, and the hangman did his work. Smiling in the shadows, just outside of town, the devil’s own waited to return.
Dear Mom: Hell is not quite as bad as you described particularly if you convert to Satanism. You get to visit Earth regularly but just to ruin lives. You have to agree to kill someone you loved when you were alive every Halloween but I loved Dad more than you….
The venue had no lights, no people. Why had she come? The man set down a glass, then retreated. She sipped. It was metallic, familiar. She blanched, dribbling onto herself. She rose to leave, not realizing that she could not. Not realizing the dribbles were fresh and red and staining.
My fingers itched ferociously as rain fell through the jungle. Bot flies had laid their eggs on me while I slept outside trying to evade Mr. K. I pressed a maggot out of my forefinger and it lay upon my fingertip. It had a human head and began to laugh.
Bot flies are the stuff of my nightmares!? They would be a lot less creepy if they had a human head. ?
Woke up to a dark shadow hovering over me within two seconds it vanished. Frightened out of my sleep I immediately flung my blanket to the side, jumped out of the bed and ran to the corner in disbelief staring at the ceiling. My eyes could not have deceived me.
Lying in bed wide awake, an unseen force held me down paralyzing my body. Opened my mouth to speak as no sound escaped all I could do was blink my eyes and move my lips. Scared to death a tear rolled down my face as the demon entered my body.
Lisa didn’t believe she had spirits at home. Every night sounds from the kitchen of cabinets opening and closing. Although Lisa tried to ignore the signs she felt she was never alone. Even when she showers she peeks around the shower curtain because it felt like someone was watching her.
Lisa washed her hair with her eyes closed not realizing that blood was flowing from her head down to her toe. Opened her eyes to bright red fluid surrounding her like she was in a placenta like a baby with an umbilical cord attached to her back “please help me”
Stolen white pearl ring, turns out to be the ring of death. Purchased by a pawn shop not realizing the diabolical history behind this ring. Whoever wears this ring will be the witness of traumatic deaths of family members, close friends and associates. This ring thrives off negative energy.
Demons on the plane, anyone aboard this plane will not return home in one piece. Perhaps pieces, missing limbs, missing organs and missing souls.
Kitty T. says
October 26, 2018 at 1:30 pm
I answered after the second ring. Another soft click. Over rumbling thunder I thought I heard snickering. The cows were bawling, begging for milking. I decided to brave the darkness for the barn. That’s when I heard the chain saw and looked into a grinning orange face.
Title: The Straight Edge
She could never think straight.
They wanted to straighten her out.
She defied the straight and narrow as such.
They forced her into shape, breaking her further.
The pressure shattered her eventually.
As she hung straight from the ceiling, their hearts sank.
They couldn’t think straight, her torment now clear.
The torture began as soon as I had come to see her-fingers chopped, liver, heart, kidneys eaten, tongue fried, feet smashed, bones burnt. I hadn’t believed her about the jealous hand-mouth-crow demon she was talking about for days. I ran for my life. But crows were cawing, “you are next”
The sun rose. Blood flowed from the wooden spikes that attached him to the tree. The fog cleared in his head. Pain rushed in. He remembered their faces. It had all been worth it. The deaths of his wife, his children. A branch snapped. Death was close. He pissed himself.
My severed arms visit me in the nighttime. They slide themselves across my stumps like moulting snakes. They walk their fingers gently up the chest of my sleeping lover and when they squeeze his neck, I feel his silent scream as if they are still attached to me.
“Remember firing me?” a familiar voice asked.
“For insubordination. Don’t call again.”
“I have your daughter–”
“Daddy!”
“–in an industrial shredder. Confess your crime. Shout it.”
My hands shook. “Johnson did nothing wrong! I fired him for no reason!”
The office stared. Machinery clattered through the handset.
“Baby?”
Very scary! ?
Harvest
Andrew shoots crows with his Kentucky rifle, dragging them headfirst through the wheat field.
“They—,” Andrew says.
Caw.
“—want me dead.”
Caw.
“Crows never forget a face,” Penny says, quickly slipping on her husband’s overalls.
Then there’s a low-pitched rattling like a rapidly-turning ratchet. Six crows pluck out his eyes.
Entry for anthology
Exhaling rot, this thing I cannot see sits on my chest, again. Cabin window gusts elicit garbled moans. I deduce a stroke has felled me among my new Sabbatical books. Nobody will dare call. Clawed fingers explore my sagging mouth, tear an ear. Raccoon! Dear God! How long to die?
It watches me in my crib. Soft and fluffy; innocent looking with the exception of those lifeless eyes. It casts a cold shadow, like its eyes. I cry, they comfort me but put me back in with it. One day, standing over bodies, they’ll wonder why I have lifeless eyes.
She always slept with the lights on. It had developed into a habit. It helped her drift off to sleep better. Today, inside the closed coffin, staring into the dark oblivion, she lay awake.
She was blinded by the darkness but could sense his presence, He was nearby, watching her. Dozens of thoughts crossed her mind as she lay there wet in her own sweat. “You were mine.” He hissed and her entire body froze. The sound was close, too close.
Jonathan reassuringly explained the illumination by the dock is the porch light’s reflection. Still, before the storm, I decided to stay inside as he left to secure the boat. An hour passed, and when I look outside, I see the boat; however, no Jonathan, and no light in the water.
Snoring
3:16. Every night. Her snoring wakes me up. I get up from the bed, go to the bathroom, have a drink of water and then go back to bed. Night after night.
I roll over and put my arm on her pillow, remembering the way she felt before she died.
The Burning Shadow
The lights flashed in time with the lightning and then the basement went dark. I just wanted to put the wash into the dryer. I took a step towards the stairs. Shadows moved. My foot hit something soft and warm where the floor should be. Then it started to burn.
Fire
I can’t move. I can’t open my eyes. I can hear the roar of the furnace. I can smell my burning clothes. I want to scream or cry but can’t. I can feel my skin as it starts to blister and crack in the heat of the funeral home’s incinerator.
My Eyes
The shower was hot. Way hotter than it should be. I needed it to help me wake up. Last night was a good night. Too good. I shut the water off, got out and toweled off. I looked in the mirror. I blinked. Twice. Those aren’t my eyes looking back.
The monster appeared the night Claire died, wearing her face. It’s Claire disguise fooled everyone but me. The worst part, though, is that it’s a better wife than Claire ever was. Attentive, kind, devoted. Still, I’m scared. Hopefully I won’t have to kill her, like I killed the last Claire.
Sixty days since our last accident. We can never make it past sixty. Old machines groan throughout the factory, refusing to work. I bite down on my belt and stick my hand into the gears. The machinery roars to life. Everyone will get paid.
Sixty days until our next accident.
I fell in love with a girl surrounded by bees. She asked me to save her. Her touch stung and her kiss burned. I endured. Her body crumbled into a buzzing swarm but I didn’t scream. I loved them, and they loved me. I offered my body, and they consumed.
The darkness is gone, moonlight revealing my murderer. I try to sleep but the monster’s claws peel away the shadows.
The colossus strangles me, punching my chest. It isn’t until my strength returns that I can pry it away.
It isn’t until tomorrow night that I will face it again.
Metempsychosis
People would always tell Jacob he resembled his father. The man died before Jacob could make the comparison himself, but he always took it as a compliment. Until one day, in front of the mirror, he watched as his face throbbed and warped into one he only knew from photographs.
Modus Operandi
Most days, Aaron would wake up and go through his morning routine just like everybody else. Brush his teeth, shower, get dressed, put the coffee on, read the headlines, eat breakfast, all before heading to work. But today, before leaving his house, Aaron forgot to put on his human skin.
Reward Offered
Tommy buried the body behind the shed. He hoped Mom and Dad wouldn’t find it there. If they did, he’d need a better excuse than last time.
She hid beneath a tangled shrub, trembling in her negligée. His footsteps approached over frost and fallen leaves. The slightest twitch would give her away. Back at the bar he’d seemed like a cure to her loneliness––back before she knew what he was.