Monthly Archives: July 2014

Drabble: The Sweeter Blood by Franklin Charles Murdock

by specklit

Maddie knew the demon liked her blood, thought it sweet. She began the trail at her bed with a pin prick to her finger, letting it pool at her feet to entice the monster.

When she’d seen the glint of its yellow eyes, she’d backed out of the room, watching each drop hit the floor as she wrung them out. It was following her now, down the hall, to the kitchen, until her father ambushed the abomination with a knife.

An hour later, they feasted on its husk, father and child, their craving for demon’s flesh sated in the moonlight.

Author’s Note: This story features a classic bait-and-switch ending. Gives new meaning to the term “demon hunter.”


Drabble: Nuisance by William A. Veselik

by specklit

Zombies got into my trash last night.

I should have twist-tied my garbage bags and made sure the can lids were on tight.

Can’t really blame them, though. Since the apocalypse died down, the walking dead don’t get much attention. Hardly ever hear of them biting anyone or swarming shopping malls in hordes.

They’ve lost interest in brains, too. Haven’t heard them moaning that word for months now. Most of them finally fell to pieces and the ones that are left just don’t have that “drive” that made them such formidable adversaries.

They knock over trash cans instead.

Lazy zombies.

Author’s Note: To me, this is the logical culmination of any exciting zombie apocalypse, when the walking corpses stop being a threat anymore and become, instead, the boring equivalent of raccoons.


Drabble: Breakout by Robert Menegus

by specklit

A gigantic buck-toothed troll snatched Henry and I as we were finishing the day’s harvest. He dragged us to a campfire deep in the Mingbat forest, where his friend, a hairy bastard, tied our backs to wooden planks.

While coating me with spices, the hairy troll furrowed his brow and began yelling at the other, pointing to the clusters of red blemishes on my forehead and shoulders. They argued for a few minutes before the buck-toothed one untied me, and then lifted Henry horizontally over the fire to roast.

I ran straight home, thanking the gods that trolls hate acne.

Author’s Note: Some people are so used to their food being visually “perfect” that they won’t buy fruit and vegetables with blemishes. I thought it’d be fun if trolls were just as picky.


Drabble: Out with the Bathwater by Sierra July

by specklit

Paul was afraid of taking baths. He remembered what had happened to the Wicked Witch when her green flesh met water. His green skin wouldn’t like it either.

His parents began to get offended by his body odor.

“You must bathe, Paul,” his father roared. That night, Paul had no choice.

He prepared the water, dipped in a toe.

His body liquefied and he shrieked. As a patch of algae, he floated. Once bored, he stretched and stood again as a boy, greenness left behind. Not so bad, he thought. Maybe he’d to it again, when he was green again.

Author’s Note: I was influenced by the Wizard of Oz with this one. What if the witch wasn’t permanently green and just had an inversion to baths. I paired this thought with a young boy’s similar sentiments toward water.


Drabble: Electronic Voice Phenomena by Michael D. Winkle

by specklit

Phil played a CD called “Thrilling Haunted House Sounds.”

“I don’t like Halloween,” said Arlene. “Not since that night in the old Foley place… when Chris disappeared.”

“Come on, he left for LA, like he’s always planned,” said Phil.

Dennis examined the CD case.

“Listen: ‘The voices on this album are genuine auditory phenomena recorded at actual haunted sites.’”

Moans and cackles echoed over the party. Phil snorted.

“Real ghost sounds. What a load of –“

He dropped his beer as a familiar voice yelled: “Help! Phil – Dennis – it’s got me! Phiiilll…”

“I don’t think Chris made LA, Phil,” said Dennis.

Author’s Note: Just an idea I had after reading too many ghost stories.


Drabble: Trojan by Nicholas M. Bugden

by specklit

Organic computing: casing of skin, wires mixed with veins, a beating hard drive. The IT specialist sat at the desk. He got the text at 1 am. Virus, a hungry one; it was eating everything, line-by-line, code-by-code. He looked at the tower to plug in his keyboard – flesh and metal. No holes. He missed the older models. He ran a finger over the back.

“Shit!”

Blood trickled. He went to try again. But felt sick. He sat back. His stomach felt like it was being eaten from the inside – deep inside – at the genetic level…

line-by-line…

code-by-code.

Author’s Note: This idea came from reading an article about rearranging DNA to record messages and how much data could be stored in a single drop of blood.


Drabble: The Tree Killer by Tracy L. Carbone

by specklit

Marilyn pedaled around the old oak tree on her brand-new tricycle. She’d ridden all day, carving a circle around the tree to mark her territory. Grandma said stop, but Marilyn didn’t listen. Round and round the tree she rode, shiny black tires butchering the grass beneath. The tree swayed its branches in warning but she wasn’t deterred. The tree swung harder, slapped her across the face with its leaves. She pedaled faster. Determined. Thunderous noise roared above. She soldiered on. Slaughtering. Rumbling grew louder as a shadow enveloped her. A giant branch smashed down upon her. The surviving grass cheered.

Author’s Note: Many years ago in my town, a freak wind storm caused a tree to fall on, and kill, a four year old girl who was riding her tricycle.


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