Everyone was having a great time at Evelyn’s Halloween party until Cal was bobbing for apples and came up with an Adam’s apple.
Tag: horror
#quikfic 54
Witnesses gasped as the car sped over the cliff into the deep, muddy water. An hour later, upriver, a weary scuba diver surfaced.
Fiction: An Ever-Present Day in the Woods
“You have come at an excellent time, Mr. Geduld, as I am about to complete this painting.” He shook hands with the writer. “Please have a seat and you may observe. I trust that will be useful for your book.”
“Indeed it will, Mr. Truitt, and let me thank you again for this opportunity.”
Truitt smiled. “The opportunity is mine, Mr. Geduld. To be included in a book about the great painters of our day will be quite the honor.”
“I believe the chapter about the life and work of Peter Bascomb Truitt will be of the greatest interest, sir. Are you painting this still life with your particular method of merely glancing at the canvas?”
“I am, as I will now demonstrate.”
Continue reading “Fiction: An Ever-Present Day in the Woods”
#quikfic 3
Something’s in the closet, trying to get out. Something else is in the hall, trying to get in. I’m the bologna in this sandwich.
Fiction: The Barthston Horde
Vyckers couldn’t help himself. He crept quietly through the halls of the ruined mansion, one step carefully placed after another. He was quite certain he was alone, and he suffered no fears about ghosts that might find his presence objectionable. But something about visiting the ancient Barthston home in the middle of the night called to his inner self to do so with a minimum of noise.
Still, he stopped occasionally to sneeze; dust had taken over the manse, and Vyckers’ nose was sensitive to it. He swung his large, intensely bright flashlight up and down the walls and across the floor in front of him. The mosaic pattern of the marble hallways had not held up well over the decades; many of the tesserae were chipped or missing. Likewise, although he knew what the mural in the grand gallery depicted, it had been defaced beyond recognition.
Stories had naturally grown up around the Barthston manse after the last of that line succumbed to the rigors of a dissipated life. The locals told of pitiful screams that could be heard on occasion if one were near enough – screams that would have rendered a human throat raw. Continue reading “Fiction: The Barthston Horde”