So long, October, we hardly knew ye. With Halloween-Month (because, honestly, it should be a month-long affair) in the rear-view, I wanted to share something pretty cool that I participated in over the past month. On Twitter, author Gabino Iglesias conceived the idea of having everyone write daily scary microfiction for the month of October. Then, author Vilimey Mist so graciously provided 31 one-word prompts for us writers who like to have a little inspiration before we tweet. I managed to finish all 31 pieces daily and I’m now happy to share those with you in one blog. ENJOY!
Seance
I hit the old table, biting my tongue at impact. Steadying myself on cobweb-covered chairs, I check for cold spots.
Words appear in a mirror’s fogged silver. “What’s your name?” Great.
Another reverse #seance. Hope these ghosts have cab-fare home this time.
Mummified
Buried under yellowed newspapers from lost decades spent hoarding, her body was preserved in headlines showing tragedies of the outside world.
The cleaning crew found her #mummified that way. They screamed when her forgotten cats finally ate their way through.
Crematorium
Working in the #crematorium, Gerry collected ashes for the families. But always kept a little for himself.
He'd add the extra to the gel caps he sold as diet pills after-hours. Nothing's better for losing weight than getting chased by angry ghosts inside you.
Hex
As CEO of WtchCo, industry disrupter for spells, potions, and more, I sympathize with everyone who might’ve suffered ill effects from a third-party #hex sold through our app.
Though any true practitioner of the black arts would know to read the fine print…
Mask
At Marvin’s #Mask Emporium we’re slashing prices left and right. Rumors of our demise (again!) are exaggerated. Shop now for a 1/2 off coupon to Big Nick’s Large Knife Shoppe. Located by the old campgrounds…you know what they did there…we mean, you know where.
Pitchfork
The farmer washed blood and gore from the tines of his #pitchfork. Gobs of wet flesh were all that remained of the traveling salesman. Farmer hadn't bothered asking for a name this time.
In the barn, his daughter hummed, lips smacking. She was sated. For now.
Wraith
Standing at the reception, away from the tightly-packed dance floor, grandma's #wraith watched Uncle Steven coughing on her living counterpart, offering his unmasked congratulations.
She faded without saying goodbye, holding her grandson's shade closer still.
Revenge
“Most children aren’t born understanding the concept of #revenge,” the detective said.
“But…”
His partner let the flashlight beam travel from the woman’s stomach wounds to the dripping ruin at the man’s crotch, pausing at each tiny, bloodstained footprint.
Occult
Aunt Esme's latest get-rich-quick-scheme involves #occult multi-level marketing. Like the Avon sales before, no one thinks it'll last.
Mom still caves and buys a crate of those voodoo dolls that look like Dad.
"Just in case. You never know," she says.
Satanic
Steam hissed from the basement's pipes. A flashlight illuminated the dark, seeking the missing teen.
Boy's mother blamed rock music, typical #Satanic Panic. But the P.I. knew the kid wasn't possessed.
That's the work HE'D been hired to finish after all.
Epitaph
Everyone laughed when Grandpa Ralph asked them to inscribe "Duck!" as his gravestone #epitaph.
But when the razor-winged "bat" swarm covered the town, those who read at graveside survived.
(Though they did wonder what else Grandpa Ralph was right about...)
Candy
Any amateur could put razor blades inside #candy. Or you had the occasional hippie wasting their stash on brats who’d never appreciate a good trip.
But caramelizing and chocolate-covering last year’s children? THAT was The Confectioner’s holiday magic.
Skull
Her #skull sat in a prison of muscle, blood, and skin, along with lush blonde hair the skull couldn’t stand.
It longed for revelation. It’d show the other bones a new way under the sun was possible.
It pressed on her brain, forcing her to pick up the knife.
Severed
After the agency #severed ties and the backlash crescendoed, the starlet found herself looking for new projects to better represent her talent.
Between overzealous paparazzi and Star Maps-carrying super-fans, she found plenty of new "material" to work with.
Eldritch
The tattooed ticket-taker outside "Professor Johannes's House of #Eldritch Terrors" didn't look like a professor (or a Johannes).
You reminded me not to judge a book by its cover. So, I held the Little Engine that Could close and practiced the incantation again.
Freakshow
The Skinless Boy ran away from the #freakshow. Would-be saviors paid for surgeries, counseling, the works.
To pay for it, they insisted he go on the talk-show circuit. But every time he stepped on set, all he heard was “Step right up!” And blood seeped out.
Execution
The dead met #execution with groaning indifference. Unblinking, jaundiced eyes stared, but didn't see. Drool-slick lips moved but said no prayers.
The firing squad destroyed the faces of the dead. So the living had no one to remember or mourn either.
Bite
Mom washed the #bite, yelling at me for being too close to the baby. I checked for fangs, checked for fur. Even took some of Grandma's hog's head cheese from the back of the fridge to test my desire for brains. Nothing.
So, why do they keep the baby in chains?
Cobweb
The playground rope bridge strung between two wooden towers sagged like an old #cobweb, heavy with children dangling in the gaps.
Their giggles turned to shrieks, however, when Teacher scaled the structure, opening her face to reveal palpating mouthparts.
Clown
Balloons hung above the mortuary. A sign above a stack of coffins read, “Each one fits multiple occupants.”
The deceased’s widow cried, and her nose was red. Someone offered a handkerchief and another and another…
Just another day at the #clown funeral home.
Holes
The #holes opened in the sky, the ground, in buildings, in people unfortunate enough to be out at the time. Somehow nothing changed. Structural integrity remained intact and no one seemed injured.
Then, the things inside the holes came crawling to the light.
Fear
They used #fear extracted from a child to lure the creature out of the closet. It regarded them with black eyes, giving away no secrets.
In his Hazmat suit, the billionaire inspected the beast's rotten toothy grin. "Now, let's see what YOU'RE afraid of."
Labyrinth
Working in his #Labyrinth, the inventor ignores his son's bids for attention. The wax is hot and they've collected enough feathers from birds trapped in this complex maze, forgetting the sun.
Soon they'll fly. Soon, these new birds will remember the sun.
Undead
Hordes of #undead? Hardly. One RV's worth of undead at most. A family of 5, 6 if you count the dog, with bad luck.
Infection spread inside the camper, so family time could've gone on forever. But someone noticed the dog scratching at the door, ready to be fed.
Moor
They found him on a #moor. Naked, bloody, afraid. Claws receding under nail beds. “Where am I?”
Then, another voice on a neighboring moor. And another. Until they blanketed the moors.
And the few villagers left began to suspect they had a werewolf problem.
Carnival
Mingled scents of funnel cake, sawdust, and sweat waft across the entire beachside #carnival. A tour group in too-big t-shirts stops to pose by the tilt-a-whirl.
A ticket-taker asks what they're celebrating.
"We've come back in time to watch the world end."
Teeth
With filming canceled and actors sent home, the puppeteer checked equipment, watched tape, trying to figure out what went wrong.
Then, he inspected Mr. Bizzle-Bop. Orange felt "skin." Plastic eyes. And human #teeth. Not glued to, but growing...in his mouth.
Oblivion
#Oblivion waited on the other side of the door. So she loosened the hinges and took the door with her, using it as a shield against obliteration.
When the other ghosts saw how she’d cheated the system and escaped her haunted house, they all wanted to join in.
Hide
We #hide behind the dunes, unable to distinguish between crashing waves and the roar of blood rushing in our heads.
The villagers’ torches wait for us, lined along the beach. Angry howls for blood and vengeance follow.
They’ll never let us return to the sea.
Jack O’Lantern
Alan opened the freezer on last year's #jackolantern—snaggle-toothed and triangle-eyed.
He set it on the table. Aside from ice crystals on orange skin, it hadn't changed.
It even sounded the same.
"Please let me go. I won't tell anyone what I saw you do."
Trick
"For my next #trick..." The magician stopped short, shading eyes from a spotlight's glare to peer out at an audience that wasn't there.
The doctor warned his children the forgetfulness would get worse.
Rabbit claws dug into his scalp, begging to be released.