Write Her Story

Alone
by Ela Lourenco

The stench of centuries past cling to this world, this realm that I have been exiled to. A void dimension where my only companions are the skin-scorching winds and the ravens – those foul creatures sent here to haunt my every step – gaolers, guardians of the doorway back home…

Home. The mere thought of it a dagger in my shrivelled heart. I longed for it for the first hundred years, sorrow my ever-faithful companion. I cannot even remember how nor when that sadness twisted into hatred. The Council, those self-righteous men, sentenced me to an eternity here alone; to this Gods’ forsaken place where I am pecked to pieces, my sun-blistered skin shredded into strips daily by their minion birds only to be reborn the next morn. Caught in an unending loop of pain, denied even the mercy of death.

Constant hunger follows…

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Lilith
by Melissa Lason

Lilith held a glass of red wine and gazed into a floor length mirror. She toasted herself and winked at the seemingly young beautiful lady staring back at her. This night had been busy and filled with hard work. Even with all her magic and strength Lilith was tired and in need of a bit of relaxation. Good thing she was prepared for just that. Again she looked upon her lovely form. It made her giggle a bit to think how surprised her prey always were. She looked so dainty and sweet. The poor fools didn’t stand a chance. Her true self was something that was inconceivable to most.

Her servant called to the mistress that bath time was prepared. Lilith sighed and removed the red silk robe she had been wearing. The smooth fabric slid off her curves. From her lavish bathroom next…

A Damned Take on Women in Horror Films
The Guy’s Point of View!

In honor of Women in Horror Month 2017, I asked six male horror writers for their top-five favorite horror films staring strong leading ladies and why they loved them so much. So, without further ado…

Day 27 – Mark Steinwachs:

Species
Leading Lady: Natasha Henstridge

Synopsis:

A group of scientists try to track down and trap a killer alien seductress before she successfully mates with a human.

Mark’s opinion:

“This movie has an interesting twist – the main character is not the heroine of the film, which is a nice change of pace. Sil (played by Natasha Henstridge) is created in a lab after scientists receive messages from an alien species. After they realize Sil is dangerous, they try to kill her, but of course she escapes. Sil is on Earth to breed so her species can populate the…

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SHADOW BOX
by Terri DelCampo

And there she sits on the edge of a crypt, jagged pieces of her sister and mother at her feet, after I have worked my artistry upon them.  Her doom (my triumph!) approaches: Police – and is that an actual slayer?

Only Mason appreciated my little masterpieces – shadowboxes, he dubbed them.
Paintings?  Sculptures?  Hah!  Far too pedestrian for the likes of me.
Mason sets my scene – holds her in his morbid embrace and coaxes her blood into his gut, vampire banality; correct?  But he doesn’t kill her. Just…almost. And then she is mine.
Mason lures a girl.
I lure her family – I give the desperate hope.  They scramble to meet me – offering themselves for the girl – no strings – no cops – no FBI. How can I refuse?
Just after Mason’s initial bite brings the girl to the…

Chewing

Write Her Story

TITLE
by Jaime Johnesee

Lightning flared in the air behind her as she walked on, mostly unflinching in her belief. The Path was the way of her clan and she knew better than to dishonor tradition by being impeded due to mortal feelings like guilt or fear. This spirit quest was one borne of darkness and she was to visit revenge on those who’d murdered her family.

Rain fell, pounding against the dry earth and swirling small dust devils around her as she walked across the dead and dusty front yards. She wasn’t evil. She’d tried to let it go. Then in court the man responsible—who’d pretended to be a victim—lied and said her husband had killed their infant son, her mother, and himself in a fit of rage.

Rage was what fueled her now as she sought to even the scales. It wasn’t justice and she didn’t…

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Muse-iam
by Lori M. Meyers

Glenda stood in an unlit corner, watching me, lips edged in red, her lids covered by thick black swirl.  I smelled her perfume, heard the swish of her cloak, felt her obsession in my own as I walked from one exhibit to another, a collection of my work which, for years, I’d buried deep in backyard dirt or inside garbage bags festering at the landfill.

I owed this all to her. Her idea, her creation, my delight in seeing my prizes so beautifully displayed; some behind glass, others cordoned off by velvet ropes.  One, exhibit 6B, the foot of that screaming bank teller, my nicks and slices so perfectly perpendicular. The next, exhibit 7A, a torso torn from all it was born with, now a fleshy island nailed discreetly onto a slanted board. That torso? She’d been an executive on…