Category Archives: flash fiction

Happy Friday the 13th

Wow, a Friday the 13th and Halloween in the same month. Black cats beware. To celebrate, I have made these amazon kindle short stories free until Saturday the 14th.

Just Desserts is a Halloween short story about the downside of Halloween hijinks.

Playback is a suspenseful short story about a video game.

Mr. Smiley is a series of short stories about a TwlightZoneesque bed and breakfast.

Fragments of Fear: Collection contains all of my kindle short stories except for Mr. Smiley.

The Mall is a novellette about strange goings-on inside a shopping center at night.

The Trail is a suspenseful short story about a group of friends on a hike through the woods with deadly consequences.

 

Please feel free to enjoy any and all of my stories. I only ask that you consider posting a review on amazon. It doesn’t have to be long, just a few lines telling what you liked about the story. If you don’t feel comfortable posting a review, I understand and still hope that you will avail yourself of this opportunity. Have a great day.

BOO!

 

Haunted: a short story audiobook

Step 2. My newest video/audiobook is now up on youtube.

Once again I have borrowed the talents of Dalan Decker as the incredible narrator, and Mason Carlton to help me with the tech stuff to put this video together and make it awesome.

I hope you are enjoying these videos as much as I’m enjoying making them. If you watch, please like, subscribe, comment, and tell your friends. I would love to make many more of these videos, but that takes time and money.

Every click, like, subscribe, review, anything that gets the word out about these videos will enable me to make more.

Thanks so much for watching.

 

Puzzled, a short story audiobook

Puzzled: A short story audiobook

I know that pride cometh before a fall, but I’m quite proud of this. ‘Puzzled’ is my first short story that I’ve had made into an audiobook/youtube video.

With the help of the amazing narration of Dalan Decker, and the helpful expertise of Mason Carlton, I was able to see a dream to fruition. Having one of my stories turned into an audiobook.

I know it may seem like a small step, but it’s a step in the right direction, and I plan to make as many more steps as I can.

Just remember, every like, subscribe, share, review, enable me to make more of these videos.

Thank you in advance.

Enjoy.

‘Puzzled’

Haunted’

Field of Screams

Excerpt from my book, ‘Fragments of Fear, Collection‘.

 

I love living in the country, away from all the lights. Over a dozen meteor pictures and I should still have time for more.

I trudge through waist high grass, climb into my car, and listen to the radio as the camera automatically takes another picture. Metallica’s ‘Enter Sandman’ plays softly, causing me to smile and close my eyes.

When I wake the full moon is up, bathing the field in an eerie glow.

The grass undulates as if waving in the breeze.

That’s odd, the wind isn’t moving the trees.

The wave of grass continues steadily towards me, enveloping the car. I stick my head out through the window and watch one of the waves pass right by me. It stops moving and out of the grass I see glowing red eyes.

I throw myself back inside the car and roll up the window, ignoring the sound of something scraping on the door.

OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod!

I focus on my breathing to avoid a panic attack.

In my mirror I see the mounds of grass moving away.

I roll my window back down, lean out, look down and see no red eyes.

I think it’s time to go home.

My camera sits a mere four feet away.  I won’t step out of my car, or leave it in the field.

I pull over closer to the camera, reach out through the window, grab the ‘Oh shit’ handle inside the car, all the while shooting furtive glances down at the grass.

Got it!

I sling myself back inside the car, roll up my window, and try to calm down. The longer I sit here the more silly the whole thing seems.

It had to be a dream. I fell asleep and dreamt the whole thing.

I chuckle at my own stupidity, then turn the car around and drive back over the same tracks I used to get here.

I drive out of the field, through my own backyard, and park beside the house.

I head for the backdoor, exhausted.

Two a.m. is late, even for me.

Against my better judgment, I lean down to look at the side of the car door and was surprised to see scrapes in the metal.

Must’ve been a stick or something I brushed against in the field.

I head inside, lock the door, and start looking through the night’s pictures.

Several of the meteor pictures are nicely framed with the field and trees. As the moon comes up, the stars disappear.

This must be where I fell asleep.

As I scroll through, I notice the waves in the field.

So I didn’t dream that?

I enlarge the picture.

My breath catches in my throat.

Red eyes.

I push to the right and see another set of eyes. I zoom back out and count dozens of them. Every hump of grass has glowing red eyes looking out.

Oh my God!

My spine turns to ice when I hear scraping at the back door.

 

 

 

 

 

If you enjoyed this story, try one of my others.

Eyes, Avian, The Exam, Open, Haunted, Crash, Stained, Puzzled

Puzzled

Excerpt from my book, ‘Fragments of Fear Collection’

 

He finally placed the last piece.

For years he had worked on this puzzle. He had bought it at a yard sale, that had some of the most strange antiques. Henry had always been a fan of puzzles. He couldn’t resist when the woman told him it would take a lifetime to put together.

He was surprised and amused when she handed him a large paper bag full of puzzle pieces. He had to dedicate a table only to this puzzle, it was so big.

For the longest time, he barely touched it, having no idea what the picture was, without the box it was nearly impossible to get started.

As time wore on and Henry became less active, the puzzle held more interest for him. He began to make progress on it and soon had it more than half done.

The strange thing was sometimes it seemed like the picture on the puzzle was different from one day to the next. Still, he kept at it. It had become an obsession now. He had to know what was in the picture.

When his wrinkled, arthritic hand put the last piece in, he leaned back to take a look and a chill ran through him. It was a picture of him as a younger man. He was sitting at that very same table and putting together that very same puzzle.

As if that wasn’t unnerving enough, over his shoulder, in the window behind him was a shadowy figure. He leaned closer to the puzzle to get a better look.

The figure was robed entirely in black with a hood covering its face. A skeletal hand held a scythe beside it.

Henry’s eyes grew wide with fear. For what seemed like eternity, he sat as still as a tombstone.

This can’t be real. There’s some logical explanation, but for the life of me, I can’t think of it.

Finally, Henry’s curiosity devoured him like a starving predator. He slowly turned and looked at the window.

***

Three days later the paramedics found his decaying body hunched over, with his head laying on the table. Bodily fluids had pooled on the puzzle, ruining it.

They never saw the picture of the man or the now empty window.

End

 

If you liked this short story, you may like one of these.

Avian, Crash, Haunted, Eyes, Open, The Exam, Stained

Stained

An excerpt from my book, ‘Fragments of Fear Collection’.

 

‘Sincerely, Douglas T. Forbes, Esquire.’

Edna’s wrinkled hands laid the letter on top of the envelope that had ‘Final notice’ stamped in red ink.

“I think I’ll invite Mr. Forbes over for tea.”

She phoned Mr. Forbes several times only to be told he was busy.

Finally, thirty days were up. Two large men in suits knocked on Edna’s door.

“May I help you?” Edna asked sweetly.

” We’re from the bank.”

“Oh yes, come right in.”

***

Two days later there was another knock on Edna’s door.

“May I help you?” she said sweetly.

“I’m Mr. Forbes from the bank.”

“Please come in.”

He stepped into the foyer and was mesmerized by the myriad of colored glass.

“I see you like my work.” Edna smiled.

“It’s quite lovely,” he said, “Mrs. Kelley I’m here on business. It’s about your mortgage.”

“What about it?”

“It’s past due.”

“That’s because you raised my payments last year.”

“There was a change in the law, we’re allowed to do that now.”

“So you’re here to take my house that I’ve been paying on for thirty-nine years.”

“That’s correct.”

“And how much do I need to come up with to keep my house?”

“With late fees, taxes, fees for house calls, compounded daily for twelve months, that brings it to, forty-two thousand dollars.”

“Wow. That’s a lot. But happily I came across an old box of antique coins.”

“Really?” he said.

“Follow me, I’ll show you.”

She led him down the hallway that was lined with stained glass artwork.

“Did you do all of these yourself? I’ve never seen stained glass this detailed before. How do you work with all those tiny pieces?”

“It’s a labor of … love.”

“Who are these people?”

“Oh, my ex-husband, children, neighbors, mailman…”

“You did one of your mailman?”

“Oh yes, he deserved it.”

“Deserved it?”

“I meant he earned it,” she said chuckling.

As they walked, Edna started murmuring.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, I was just humming.”

She opened a door at the end of the hallway.

“Here we are.”

They walked into an empty room. The only thing visible was an easel.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“Have a look.”

On the easel sat a mirror set in a golden frame. He looked into the mirror and no reflection stared back at him.

“What is this?”

He was drawn toward it as if being pulled inside.

He started to see a faint image in the mirror. The louder Edna murmured the more he could see of himself. He looked down at his hands and they had become transparent.

The mirror cracked, sending a jolt of pain through him. It cracked again and again, each a new experience in agony.

The cracks came faster.

His scream echoed.

Her murmuring reached a fever pitch.

The cacophony reached a crescendo then ceased.

She opened her eyes and smiled at her brand new stained glass portrait.

She hung it in the hallway next to portraits of the other men in suits.

 

 

Thank you for reading. If you liked this, try some of my other short horror stories.

Open

Haunted

The Exam

Eyes

Avian

 

Open

An excerpt from my book, ‘Fragments of Fear Collection’

 
My tormentor sits beside me, mocking me.

“Come on, Ben, you know you want me, why don’t you just do it?”

I try to ignore it, work on my tan. The sun helps out by shining down as bright as possible, baking me to a crisp.

“Beeeeennnnn,” it sing-songs to me. “Why don’t you peel off this outer cover and do what we both know you want to do?”

Water splashes in my face, pulling me out of my delusion.

My mind drifts back to this horrible reality.

Alone in a life raft, adrift in open water, my companion who speaks so seductively is an unopened can of baked beans.

For three days I’ve stared at that can. During my less lucid moments, it mocks me and beguiles me.

Whoever loaded the supplies on this life raft was either stupid or one sadistic bastard.

They packed saltines, peanuts, canned food, but no can opener, and no water. The crackers and nuts were gone on day one. Now my throat feels like it’s swelling shut.

My stomach has stopped rumbling and sends jolts of pain now. I fear that it is slowly devouring other internal organs. But that’s nothing compared to my pounding headache.

I feel like I’m going to burst into flames any second. I don’t know if I could drink even if I had water.

The irony of dying of thirst in the middle of the ocean throws me into a fit of hysterical laughter…on the inside. On the outside, I only have enough energy for a weak smile.

Early morning day four, that’s when my miracle happened. The most commonplace of all miracles, water fell from the sky.

The first drop hits me on the cheek, and my eyes struggle to open.

I’m having another horrid, sadistic dream.

It wasn’t until I was soaking wet that I made a feeble attempt to open my mouth as wide as I could and allow drop after life-saving drop to slowly fill it.

I attempt my first swallow in nearly two days.

Try as I might, I can’t do it. My throat has swollen nearly shut. Breathing has become difficult.

Now my mouth is full of water that has begun to drip into my lungs.

Four days ago I would’ve just spit the water out. But then, four days ago I was able to swallow. Now I’m so weak I can’t turn my head and I can barely cough. Even when I do, a mere drop or two of water comes out.

After two feeble attempts, I can’t breathe.

Whatever energy reserves I have, go into one last cough.

It barely makes the water in my mouth gurgle. Panic fights exhaustion, and loses.

The rain comes down in torrents. What I thought was my savior has become my doom.

Lying on my back, I look like a fish out of water. My mouth moving, unable to breathe, slowly suffocat…

 

 

 

If you enjoyed this story, try another.