Is There A Monster Underneath Your Bed?

  Mommy kisses you on the forehead. She pulls a blanket under your chin and then turns on a nightlight. The wooden floorboards squeal underneath her feet while you pull the cover underneath your quivering eyes. Mommy stands in the doorway—a black shadow creeps across the floor as she waves a hand. “Good night. Sleep

Earth

Poem By Bryan Hughes Earth Under my feet As I step close To your resting place       Earth Dug from the ground Piles of brown dirt That you will replace     Earth Thuds onto you Covers the smile On your sweet face       Earth I pat the earth down My

Hungry Cannibalistic Crab Spider!

  Chainsaws. Spider fangs. Same difference, right? When you’re the size of a lady beetle, then they may as well be the same thing. Horror has a variety of nasty forms. A rip-roaring chainsaw chews through the air (or something else) like a soulless mechanical glutton. When you hear that motor…papapapapapa…something bad is about to

The Fateful Undertaking of Leonine Crick

    Poem By Nick Gibbs Leonine Crick hitting on middle age like a wrathful child with a stick whacking it hard against a wall. ~ Thickset, ruddy-hued not so tall as the coffin-lids that betokened his call arrayed in shades of polished pinewood and yew in the rose-scented parlour room where was his wont

R.I.P. My Fractured Heart

 R.I.P. My Fractured Heart By Charles Payne   We hold hands strolling among the rows and rows of markers. The grass well fed and green so like a park – an invitation to share a picnic lunch. — These headstones You say— are so close together and so small.   I can’t bring myself to

Tiger Beetle Murders Ant!

  Nature is horrific! It’s true. There are stingers and fangs behind every leaf. Take for instance this lovely six-spotted tiger beetle. Most people think tigers live in the jungle. These people would be mistaken…because there could be a tiger in your backyard…right now. And instead of big scary claws…it has tiny mandibles! Ouch.  

In the Flesh

Story by Karina Pinella   A short stack of dried human skin trimmed into 8 ½” x 11” pages sat on the desk as Walter Penn pondered on his next flesh fiction. He considered the title, Flayed Minion, in memory of the owner who was formerly bound by the parchment on which he will now

A Million Bites

The man with the knife grins.  Serrated edges dangle above a crawling body while a bullfrog croaks on top of a dead tree stump. Laughter spews out of this man’s mouth. The body flails its fleshy fins like a fish ripped out of a pond…helpless…only so much time left… He snatches a handful of hair,

Death Is Watching

  Deliver me from evil Save me from the sin Rip my chest wide open Feel the heart within Beating in a way That demons will detect They will find my pulse They will resurrect Tear apart my rib cage Throw it to the side Take my dying muscle Find a place to hide You

Pillow Talk

She impales a sapphire encrusted silver loop through her earlobe, and then glides red lipstick across puffy lips. Black stockings constrict a pair of pale legs while she perches on stilettos.   He’s already passed out. Half empty bottle on the nightstand…same infomercial that’s been on for the past hour…drool spills onto his shoulder, absorbing