Horror Flashes to Lightly Tread Over...

Author's Note:

Many times I see a picture and come up with a tale and treat them as exercises. Usually these tales are quite short and thus, viewed as flash pieces with every single word counting.


Now that the gate blocks that godforsaken dirt road and the supposedly cursed area beyond it, time has allowed nature to slowly and quietly hide it.

For those who aren’t familiar with the reasoning of this gate, it appears as just that, a random gate that blocks a path to nowhere. But for those who know, it remains an unholy place.

The area beyond it, where two forty something, very disturbed, and psychologically twisted men took the life of a poor defenseless fifteen year old girl in a heinous and shocking ritual act usually reserved for horror novels, holds fear in their hearts…even to this day.

Those men have been gone for quite a long time now. But, although it had clearly been proven, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that they were nothing more than a couple of cold blooded killers who were filled with demented delusions of grandeur and subsequently sentenced to death, the stigma still remains.

Being a highly religious community, whose firm beliefs lie with both good and evil, would probably be one of the reasons that this constantly lingers. Of course, when one of their own, especially, one happens to be the preacher’s son is one of those two men, it would have a tendency to stain the soul and never let it go.

Regardless, the rusting gate now blocks it and is not actually intended to keep people out. Anyone could very easily stroll around its outer edges, but…they still won’t dare…


There was no time to react. Hitting the brakes hard, the car slid and squealed to a stop. But it was too late. Feeling the bump and hearing the revolting sound of crushing metal was both deafening and terrifying. Subconsciously not wanting to view the horrifying sight, bitterly welcomed tears fully aid and easily allow avoidance.

Standing calm, peacefully watching and thinking chaotically, this morbid, yet most serene place decorated with marble and granite and stone, wonderful bathing sunshine will not eliminate sorrow.

Surrounded by black suits and dresses, melody rains as sobs ring out from tears falling in all directions.
Yet all I hear is the metal tricycle contorting…and fear I always will.

The Bottom Step

Johnny stood on the basement’s bottom step intrigued by the sight of the little, wickedly gruesome looking, no bigger than a common garden gnome, creature stare directly back at him from the shadows of the corner. 

Pretending, but without touching, and getting closer each time, he would taunt it, sticking his pointed big toe directly toward the dirt floor, as if he was testing a pool's water temperature, and intending to step down. 

The drooling creature’s parsed mouth offered sharp, glistening crooked teeth. While it's squinting yellowish eyes opened wider, taking notice and slightly rising, ready to pounce each time he did. 

With a giggle, he pointed the toe again and stumbled, slipping off the edge of the wooden step and landing, back flush on the floor. 

Immediately he felt jagged nails piercing deep; gripping tight into his flesh. Kicking and screaming, he saw the stairwell getting farther away and the surrounding shadows growing dimmer. Feeling hot moist saliva dripping into his short hair, he screamed again…and the creature bit down.


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