Category Archives: Horror Flash Fiction

The Journeyman

Did you hear the story about the journeyman? They say he comes on the coldest of nights, walking only by the light of the moon, from the darkness into a small town, somewhere, in the heartland, always the same. He’s … Continue reading

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This Blood I Have Shed

This blood I have shed for you. To free you. To stop the pain. He will not hurt you, touch you, make you his, ever again, ever again. My sins overwhelm me constantly but I’m not alone. All of those … Continue reading

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Purgatory

I scream every day in purgatory. No-one hears. I think there are others, standing close to me, but I’m never sure. No-one reaches out, no-one dares touch. We do not understand the potential consequences. No-one explains the rules to us … Continue reading

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Battery Hens

Back in the day I felt sorry for battery hens. Didn’t we all? Caged up, cooped up, there only to live then die then feed others. Feed us? Barely able to move, stuck in the seeming eternity of waiting until … Continue reading

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Priestesses

The priestesses haunt my dreams. they always have, even when I was a child. I do not know when I first saw them, when my parents first took me to a ritual, it is too long ago to recall. I … Continue reading

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Portal

Mommy disappeared into the portal on Saturday. Daddy said he thought she didn’t mean too, but she did anyway. Mommy often did things she didn’t really mean to, it was one of her things. One of Daddy ‘s things was … Continue reading

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Identity

I’ve heard that in ancient times identity counted for something. Drones in the hive sometimes speak of it, the concept of individual thought or action, not aligned to the collective goal. It sounds a quaint concept at times, like an … Continue reading

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Magic

Do you believe in magic? My mother did. I think she practised it. She never admitted as such, but I knew about her books. She kept them with candles and incense and other things I didn’t recognise – and probably … Continue reading

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Train

When I was young my father once took me to see an old train which was kept as a kind of historic relic at the train yard. In those days that sort of trip was exciting, because my father was … Continue reading

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Televised

The revolution was televised in the end, so the song was wrong about that. Songs are often wrong, if you think about it. Probably only so much wisdom you can shoe-horn into three or four verses and a chorus. Anyway … Continue reading

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