Ivor Steven: Pumpkin Soup Again

    Head’s falling like an unpinned grenade. Soon ready to explode. Burying shrapnel pieces in corners of shade. Scattered like broken retina globes. Razor blades shredding memory lockets. Slivered icicles inside blurry sockets. Needles of pain. Sheets of sleet before the rain. Bloodied eyeball tracks like meteor trails. And the pain-numbing capsules do fail.

SMM 2017 Halloween Writing Contest: The Elf

        Kris opened her eyes and stretched and tried to blink the sleep away, then she quickly turned and snuggled in, not wanting to start the day. But as her eyes began to close, shutting out all forms of life, She saw him beside her, the Elf on the shelf, holding a

Raise the Dead: Enter into the SMM 2017 Halloween Horror Writing Contest

Stuff a plastic chomper into your mouth—the SMM 2017 Halloween Writing Contest is currently open to receive public horror story submissions. Ghosts, ghouls and goblins are encouraged to submit their bite-sized horror stories. Cash prizes will be awarded to the Darkest Darlings, so dip your quill inside a bloodwell and scare the hell out of

Dark History: Victorian Coffin Bells

  Have you ever been buried alive? Being dead is no fun, especially if you have to experience it while you’re alive. Victorian coffin bells allowed the living to rest in peace—these morbid inventions were created by individuals who suffered from a primitive form of paranoia which resides inside all of us. Nobody wants to

Slasher Theory: Flip the Switch

The chainsaw spews oily saliva. And it’s hungry. What are you going to do? Let the jagged teeth eat you alive? When you’re reading a horror story, or perhaps watching a scary movie, someone will most likely bite the BIG one. It sort of goes without saying—death is the gooey butter that covers the popcorn,

Journey of the Zombie

Wandering, wandering, wandering I’m searching, I am searching for any sign, a scent of blood, or taste of meat, to sate this driving, driving hungry pining state. Roaming, roaming, roaming desolate waste. Wanting, desiring an unknown place. Nothing is known by me, or seen or said, for I am—I am—of the living dead. Memories, memories,

SMM Event: Create Your Own Horror Nursery Rhyme

Gather ’round, for it’s time for an SMM horror nursery rhyme sleepover. Dead Donovan’s werewolf doll ran into the woods, and now he can’t sleep. Would you read some terror-filled stories or poems to him? He’s addicted to disturbing and gruesome nightmares. Slip into your cozy, black and red striped Freddy Krueger pajamas… …don’t forget those Sasquatch slippers! Share your spine-chilling

SMM EVENT: Zombie Tanka Party

When there’s no more room in hell, the dead will party! Gravestones are gonna shake, rattle, and roll—sink your rotten teeth into the living as you write a zombified tanka poem. Don’t have any ink? Use blood, of course! Not your own, though, because that would be inappropriate and somewhat rude.   Empty Grave I

SMM Event: Don’t Be Shy…Write About an Octopi!

  Put on your diving helmet—we’re about to go deep! Jump into the dark water and take a peek below the waves. Don’t be shy! Everyone likes to get a little wet. Explore the realm where daylight refuses to glow, just don’t get too close to the nightlights, or you may get stung. Or eaten.

Frosted Glass

  Looking through my frosted glazing. A winters Sunday morn. The piercing coldness, so bitter. A wind like razor blades. And my somber music plays. The slivering venetian blinds, so bland. Hiding little of the external Arctic chill. A frozen sparrow lays on the sill, Ready to fall, on dirt, so icy. A meagre frigid