Terror Tonight

The Lady of Flies

My wife is the ruler of hell, but she thinks that I don’t know. It’s her little secret and I play along. My lovely Maria, for whom I will gladly die. We are waiting for those inside me to mature. Those dark things that she plants inside me as I sleep. Things that squirm beneath my skin if I am away from her for too long. They ache for their mother and scream for her using my mouth.


In the mornings we go our separate ways to work, she gives me a smile knowing that it will be a day of pain for me. But my pain is her pleasure, and her pleasure is my life. It will begin in my stomach, a small growling. It’s not my hunger but theirs. The things that Maria has put inside me demand to feed on the unclean. In my suit and tie, I take to the alleys at noon, hoping for something that they might enjoy. My Maria’s children have such a hunger that the moldy and dead can fill. If we are lucky, I can find the greatest of treats, a rat already bloated from the heat, or a cat crawling with life as it lays useless to anyone but the swarm and me.


After the children are fed it’s back to the cubicle for me. The little square that I fill during the day as the buzzing fills my head. I try not to scratch at them as they get loud enough to drown out the drone of my coworkers and their petty lives. They have nothing, but I am the bringer of the swarm. The ones who will feast on them all. However, sometimes the pain is too great and blood is under my fingernails before I know what I have done. I sit in in my car screaming at my laxness, hoping that I have not killed any of the tiny ones. Crying at the thought of failing in my duty. The children are all.


Today I have not failed, today I have kept my charges safe for their queen. We sing praises to the Dark Lady as I take the long freeway home. I scream hosannas in her name to quiet them. They scream through my head all wanting to be near her as always, their voices blend until no words can be found. Then as one, they silence themselves. A small voice tells me that it is time. I laugh because my Lady will be proud of her husband for giving her these fine children.


How shall I present the gift that she has waited for so long?

I shall give her the Valentine that she deserves.

She enters the house with a glow. Candles wait for her, and white wine to celebrate what she has waited for without complaint. I give her a kiss and my love as I set her at the table. She laughs at our largest bowl empty in front of her. Running my fingers through her hair, her eyes connect with mine just as they did on our first night. She smiles as I run the razor across my stomach to release her present into the china bowl.


I close my eyes from the pain, hearing nothing but the goodbyes of our young. I know my Maria is proud of me I don’t need to understand what she is saying to know of her love.


The end

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JD Hyde enjoys rocking back and forth in the shower rethinking his life decisions. Follow him on Twitter.

Terror Tonight

Taking Out the Trash

They found him in an alley, covered in filth and reeking of old beer and piss. Waking him with a kick, the three boys laughed when he tried to crawl away. Their designer clothes and fashion magazine haircuts showed they drove in for a wild night. The smallest one giggled and said to the one with the most expensive shoes, “Hey Trent, have you ever seen a sack of trash run away before?”

By J.D. Hyde

Trent shook his head, and took a puff from his vape, “Nope, but I know how to get rid of trash. Do you know how to get rid of trash, Eddie?”

The third boy stared at the man they had circled, “Oh yes, I know how to get rid of the trash.” Eddie pulled a can of lighter fluid from his jacket pocket and said “Incineration.”

The man began to cry, and mumbling, “Please don’t, please don’t do this.”

The boys laughed as Eddie cover the man in lighter fluid, “Feel that old man, you won’t be littering our streets anymore.”

The small one began kicking him again, taking out the angst of being neither the richest nor the strongest of the group. He held a lot of anger, and the old man felt a rib break but he didn’t try to fight, he covered his head and begged, “Please don’t do it.”

Eddie pulled out a lighter and stared at the flame when he flicked it, “Old man, we are going to burn you. There’s no getting out of it.”

A wind came through the alley blowing out the flame, “I wasn’t talking to you,” the old man whispered.

Trent screamed as the boys who circled the man were circled themselves by rats. The vermin swarmed Eddie, covering him, and taking a bite with each step they took. It took less than a minute for Eddie to become bone and blood. The others didn’t try to help, they began running as soon as the rats made their move. However, Trent and Brent found that the entrance to the alley was gone. They found graffiti-covered walls were on all four sides of them, and then they began to beg.

“They are just boys,” the man said to the air. But the air didn’t listen.

Shadows that could have once been cast off, broke away from the corners grabbing the boys, pulling them into the darkness. The old man pleaded for their lives as the boys were sucked into a place darker than the night until only their screams were left. Then those faded away.

The wall that had blocked the boy’s way opened up again, with new graffiti that read, “I love you”

The old man whispered to the city, “I love you too”

End

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JD Hyde enjoys rocking back and forth in the shower rethinking his life decisions. Follow him on Twitter.

Dot of Blood

Alanah Andrews is an English teacher in Australia, who dreams of one day traveling the world in a bus. If you like her writing, check out her website: www.alanahandrews.com

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The light is piercing, even through his tightly clenched eyelids.

Odd.

Slowly opening his eyes against the glare, he notices the metal bed he is lying on, bathed in the brightness. Invisible bonds adhere him to the bed like a vice.

Panicked, he notices a shadow beside him.  A dark form, a  sliver of metal descending towards him…

He jolts awake.

A dream, just a dream.

Stumbling to the bathroom he splashes his face with icy water, washing away the remnants of the nightmare.

And, unknowingly, washing away the tiny dot of blood glistening in the centre of his forehead.

Terror Tonight

JD Hyde enjoys rocking back and forth in the shower rethinking his life decisions. Follow him on Twitter.

JITTERS

At first, Patty thought it was a case of the bugs, she had been out all day and the jitters had started. She had scraped her glass pipe clean a few times that day and wanted to call her connection. He had warned her though, that the next time that he got a call at an ungodly hour she was cut off. She couldn’t risk it.

She laid in the dark, hoping to sleep until the hours stopped being ungodly. She kept hearing a scraping sound from the walls and the closet. Patty grabbed the decorated tin box she kept her pipe in. She held it to her chest the way a child holds its favorite stuffed toy. As if they knew it would keep the monsters away until light.

Leaning against the wall, Patty stared at the grey shapes the dark made in the room. The scraping started again reminding her of something deep in her unconscious, something she had heard many times over the years. She thought it might have been rats, but Patty knew what noises rats made. It wasn’t rats.

 

“Mommmyyy…Mommmyyy”

 

Patty shook the tiny whisper from her head, she knew she was alone. She was damned sure knew she wasn’t a mommy. The cry came a little louder this time. She couldn’t tell if it came from the closet or from the shadow in the corner. Patty brought her knees to her chest and tried to watch both places at the same time. Without looking she opened the tin box and held the glass pipe in both hands, mumbling to herself. Like a nun praying with her rosary.

 

“Mommmyyy”

 

She shivered at the voice, so hollow and wet and tiny. “Shut up, you’re not there.”

There was a chuckle. “We are here, mommy. We miss you.”

“Who are you?”

There was more scraping and laughter. From the dark corner, a shape crawled out. It moved slow, dragging itself. When it got to the edge of the mattress, she could see it more clearly. A round, bald shape with one small arm. Its tiny hand held the other. Eyes shining like a cat.

“We are your forgotten. The ones that you scraped away, tossed away. And we want more. We need brothers. We need sisters. We need you.”

From the shadows of the room more small sets of eye began shining. One set for each of her visits to the hospital, for each of her missed periods, for each of the forgotten….

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JD Hyde

New Years’ Eve 24-Hour Flash Fiction Horror Contest

While most of the world raise glasses of champagne, we writers are at home putting words to the page. I.P. hosts a flash fiction contest in honor of Mary Shelley and her classic novel Frankenstein. Her novel, written in 1818 London, was the result of a friendly competition in an old castle during a fierce storm. The competition is what inspired I.P.s New Year’s Eve contest. The theme for the contest will be posted on the I.P. website at 9:00 pm on New Year’s Eve. The contest will end at 9:00 pm on New Year’s Day.  Follow our Facebook page or our blog to get updates and theme.