Tag Archives: freedom

The Wild One

Posted on September 19, 2019 by Helen

They called her ‘the Wild One’. It might have been her red eyes, peering out from the room in which she was held. It might have been the groans and growls she emitted anytime someone passed by. It might have … Continue reading →

Posted in Horror Flash Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Identity

Posted on September 6, 2018 by Helen

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 →

Posted in Horror Flash Fiction, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Web

Posted on December 29, 2017 by Helen

Trapped within the webs we weave Seeking freedom But frightened to leave Silvery tendrils Chain us the more within The more we strive To reach out Feeling the force upon my cheek I am not sure of what Release I … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Let Me Out

Posted on August 17, 2017 by Helen

Let me out she cried I am trapped inside Behind prison bars I am blood and scars Let me out she pled See how I have bled Let me take a life With my precious knife Let me out she … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Memory

Posted on January 3, 2017 by Helen

I don’t remember when I began to forget I’d been taken. Time melded in my place, the basement, so seamlessly that in the end my former life was but a dream and the walls around me prescribed my only reality. … Continue reading →

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Possession (Horror Flash Fiction)

Posted on October 4, 2016 by Helen

The priest was weary. Three days and nights this had continued with little respite. The room held an all pervasive stench, and the dark glimmer in the girl’s eyes haunted him even when her eyelids were shut. Crash! Old furniture … Continue reading →

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The Flavour of Spite – Nineteen

Posted on April 23, 2015 by Helen

Dearest Violet is in my kitchen, slicing and dicing vegetables for our soup.  She has chosen a recipe for chicken soup, and the meat is already finely sliced and lightly fried, and it now sits on blotting paper to the … Continue reading →

Posted in Serial Horror Stories, The Flavour of Spite | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments