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

You Can’t Drink It Away

He drank heavily.  Forget who you are and what you’ve done. Keep your eyes down and don’t look at it. His plan failed. The full moon mocked him as he stumbled outside; his head spinning and his claws scraping the ground. He growled at a pink elephant in the distance.   *A “pink elephant” is

Season of Death / Ashen Field Pestilence

    A twisting black ribbon glides through the air, its shape changing to the whim of countless pests. Darren wipes his mouth and evicts flies sipping from saliva. “…I don’t think so. Not this time.” He impales a shovel into the dirt—sweat drips onto the rusted spade while Darren heaves dry soil over his

Drown In A Personal Ocean of Serpents

“Men really need sea-monsters in their personal oceans. An ocean without its unnamed monsters would be like a completely dreamless sleep.”—John Steinbeck  

Shrieking Poets: Cauldron of Hate

  Pour in your frustrations. Add a drop of your fears. Frog legs and cricket wings, Beetle brains and butterfly heads, Take the wooden spoon, churn, churn, churn— The Cauldron of Hate.   Purple mist rises, Boiling green sludge… Rat fur and toad warts, Spider eyes and raven beaks. Grasp the wooden spoon, Churn, churn,

Mutterings of Frankenstein

  “There is love in me the likes of which you’ve never seen. There is rage in me the likes of which should never escape. If I am not satisfied in the one, I will indulge the other.”—Mary Shelly, Frankenstein