Micro Macabre
These are ten tales of terror, horror and fear. Each one a small dose of the macabre and mysterious. Which ones will send chills down your spine? Which ones will haunt you in the nights to come? Read them all, if you dare to find out.
There Were Several
There were several steps that lead to the basement of William Graham's rickety old home. Each one had a different squeak, crack, or pop to announce the arrival of anyone to the damp underbelly of the house.
There were several locks on the door that lead to the back room in William Graham's basement. Some new, some old, and some barely did anything at all but hang on to the frame by the splinters of the door and the rust in their hinges.
There were several people in the small back room of William Graham's basement. Each one bound by dirty rags and rough burlap twine. Rusted iron chains ensnared each person's leg and kept them tethered to the crumbling brick walls of the deep recess.
There were several knife wounds in the body of the last man that William Graham had dragged from the back room.
There were several corpses piled in a metal crate at the other end of the basement. William Graham took note as he dumped the newest addition in. He would have to get the saw out soon.
There were several more to come.
Purgatory Rising
The demons and devils of this hell screamed something indiscernible in my direction. Let them wail. They have debts to pay, and best start now.
You can spend an eternity dying here. I did. Then I decided I had long paid my penance, and so had others around me. The first demon fell without much resistance at all, which was surprising to say the least. They had instilled fear for all time, yet they had never felt it themselves.
We tore the charred flesh from the demon's body, and took up its jagged bones as makeshift batons. Another fascinating discovery was made, was that the bones of a demon can inflict pain, and even death, to others. Perhaps it is because they are all birthed from this Hell, but that's only speculation.
We gathered together, striking out at anything the inferno cast our way. Each step littered with the husks of hell spawn. A long road to redemption we walk.
A riot has broken out in Hell, and we are the architects of it all. One step at a time. One step at a time.
Shallow Breaths
Megan's body convulsed. Her muscles were ablaze with pain, as she struggled to free any part of her. Each thrash she attempted was reciprocated with the tightening of the tentacles that wrapped around he body.
It was supposed to be a trip to take away all the pain she had carried with her since the accident. To replace the memories she had lost, to set her mind right.
To make the water a place she loved once more.
The pressure surrounded her. Megan opened her eyes through the pain. Her body settled on the soft sand below her. She could see that she was in no more that two feet of water. The crystal clear waters of the island tormented her with the images of the sun and a scattering of blurred clouds just out of reach.
Megan spun hard left, then right. Her lungs burned as her last breath was nearly gone. She threw her left shoulder forward and her hand suddenly escaped the beast's grasp.
Megan shot her hand out of the water. It waved back and forth in terror and agony, splashing against the soft foam of the final reach of a wave as it neared the shore.
No one saw Megan's hand as it slowed, stiffened, and then went slack as it gently fell back into the water. A dark shape bolted from the shore, its belly ready to be filled.
No Roses For the Grave
There were no roses left on Abigail's grave. No one had wanted anything red to be near her headstone at all.
It would only serve as a grim reminder.
Her body had been found in a dark alley, riddled with gigantic gashes. Her bones had broken through the skin, and her face had been torn from the skull below it. Only dental records and a tattoo of the phases of the moon on her forearm identified the body as Abigail.
It had been a small service. Only the few that really knew Abigail well attended. There were no tears shed. It would not have been what she would have wanted, so as hard as it was, the mourners all obliged.
As night had rolled in, a light rain now fell. The moon cast patchwork light through the passing storm before being moving behind the distant mountains.
Two large clawed feet sloshed through the cemetery and came to a halt at Abigail's grave. A large hairy beast stood on its hind legs as its golden eyes peered at the name engraved on the stone.
The beast backed into the shadows of a nearby tree, and sat in silence.
It would wait to see if she would come back again.
She always did. And with her came death and misfortune.
It would wait, as it always did. It did not take long for the ground before the gravestone to begin to shift.
She always came back.
It Was Not An Abduction
Clarence could not open his eyes, the light was too bright. He put his hands up to shield himself from the ethereal glow, but it penetrated his skull. He screamed, but he heard no sound come out.
He felt his body get yanked upwards, and his limbs locked in place. Clarence was no longer in control.
There was a distinct feeling of his body moving at a high speed, as if constantly going down a big drop on a roller-coaster.
Within an instant, it had all passed. Clarence opened his eyes, and his lungs heaved in and out in sheer terror. He could feel his every extremity once more, but he was still restrained. Wherever he was, it was dark, and he could hear strange clicks and buzzes all around him.
Another light bathed Clarence with its warmth. He flinched, but it was not an intense light, and eventually he opened his eyes.
Two green skinned beings stood over him. The humanoid beings had one red cycloptic eye seated in the center of their mound like heads. Sharp teeth filled their festering maws.
They had tools in their hands. They looked similar to saws, but with several blades going in a variety of directions.
Clarence managed to look out of the corner of his eye. He saw the innards and scattered parts of a cow just to his left.
This was not an abduction. This was a mutilation.
Clarence howled as the blades sank into his flesh.
The Quiet Stars
The mission had been a failure.
A second protocol was enacted. It was. it had to have been. He knew it was. He was following orders. High orders.
Save the Earth. Sacrifice the infected.
They had gone to Mars. Landed. Surveyed. Photographed. They were making history.
But it all went wrong. There was a bacteria. A virus. An extraterrestrial. An anomaly. Yes. Yes, that's what it was. It had infected some of his team. His team. The history makers.
They had become compromised. All of them. But, he, he was not compromised. He heard the voice. The voice encoded within the static. It was meant for him to hear. He was the only hope.
He had piled the bodies in the dining room. The corpses of his fellow astronauts were set about as if they were enjoying a dinner. The bodies were covered in blood, as were the walls and floors.
He had slit some of their throats, bashed in their skulls with large tools, and even decapitated the commander and left his head in his lap.
There were his crew, his friends, lost to the quiet stars. The ship would be home soon. He would be welcomed as a hero. As a saint. He sat with his dead and dismembered crew and shared a single laugh.
What a homecoming it would be.
Take Out
"Alright, so we got an order of ribs, thighs, and you did say you wanted the odds and ends as well, yes?" Eric said from behind the counter.
"Yes, yes, that all sounds right." said the man who was placing the order. He paid for it with his account card and the order information popped up in the back room.
"Order in, boys! We got a big one here, let's move! No fucking around, especially you Tony, ya jerk!" Andy yelled to the group. Tony laughed and clapped his hands together as he put in the order code into a number pad near a large metallic door.
The whole crew was dressed and ready for the butchering, and the metallic door opened, bringing in a large cylindrical tube. It was laid flat on the butcher's block, and then the tube opened.
The man inside the tube awoke with a fright, and screamed. Tony's large gloved hand cover the man's mouth, and Tony slid a blade across his throat. Blood gushed from the wound, and oozed out over Tony's glove.
The man's body was carved up, each piece of his flesh was carefully packaged and placed in a handy to go bag. They extracted his heart, tongue, and brains. The odds and the ends.
"Order up!" Tony yelled as he set the bag on the counter, and the man waiting took it and exited the building quickly. He had a meal to make.
The Black Heart Barn
The two young men stumbled through the snow. They knew it was dumb to be out in the freezing cold this late, but they had made a bet, and weren't going to lose this one tonight.
Greg said he would go into the haunted Black Heart Barn and look for old Judge Cropsey. Jake was there just to witness it. Jake and Greg were not good friends, so the trip had been quiet.
The barn loomed ominously in the moonlight.
"Alright, let's get this over with." Greg said.
He lumbered through the snow to a window on the side. It had no glass in it, so it would be an easy in and out. He looked to Jake and shrugged, and then hopped into the barn.
Greg found nothing but darkness. His heart pounded, and he was shaking from more that just the cold. A moment passed, and then another. Nothing. Greg smiled Victory. Greg turned around and walked back to the square of moonlight and went to climb back out.
"Not too bad at all..." As Greg crawled out, he found Jake's body, torn in two. Abstract crimson splatters covered the snow.
"Oh God..." Greg turned to run, but an axe fell from above and planted itself in his skull. A large shadow of a man stood before him. Greg convulsed as he died, and Judge Cropsey moved to bring his victims in as the night grew cold and silent.
The Serpent Eternal
Jeremiah and Elijah stood up as Father Gorman entered the room.
"It is time. The test awaits. May you both walk the path of righteousness together." Father Gorman spoke in a monotone hymn, and then walked out, leaving the door open. Both men knew they were to follow. They had been preparing for this for almost a year.
Jeremiah did not let the beauty of the room around them take his attention. He was to walk straight from the room to the altar. It was written, and it was to be done. One step, then another.
His peripheral tried to seduce him. But Jeremiah would not look at the fellowship as it sung the grand hymnals. He would not take in the multitude of candles, or look at the blood as it was thrown upon the walls.
One step, and then another.
He could feel the holy power around him. It guided him. Jeremiah smiled as he continued.
One step, and one more. Then a hand fell to his shoulder, and Jeremiah regarded the jovial face of Father Gorman.
"Well done. Welcome home, Jeremiah. The Serpent Eternal rejoices." Father Gorman said.
"Elijah? Jeremiah asked as he tuned back to the snake pit.
Elijah was screaming in agony as several snakes had their fangs sunk deep into his legs and arms. The other snakes enveloped him within seconds.
"Some are saved. Some are sacrificed. The Serpent Eternal is all wise." Father Gorman said as he lead Jeremiah away.
Radioactive Silence
Cheryl took very deliberate steps. She did not want to tear any part of her hazmat suit. She had a limited amount of good ones left, and she needed to make more scavenger runs to get herself back into North Capitol.
The area she was in had been hit hard during the Bleak Rain, and most of the place was either in complete ruins or radioactive overgrowth. But she had a tip on possible supplies left at an encampment near the edge of the forest.
Cheryl listened to her Geiger counters. She had them attached to her suit and facing in many directions, so she would know if anything was approaching. If something did, her Colt M4 would have to do the trick.
Her heavy breaths pulsated out of the gas mask she wore as she continued to tread lightly into the forest area. She stopped dead in her tracks as the counter on her back began to crackle for just a moment.
Silence followed.
She took one more step. The counter on her left chirped and she swung her body with her gun at the ready.
Silence again. She saw nothing in between the trees.
Her back counter began to crackle once more, and it intensified quickly. Cheryl whipped around and opened fire on the hoard of mutant beasts that charged out from the toxic forest.
The gunfire and the rasping cracks of the Geiger counter melded together to fill the forest with a violent chorus of death.
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