Gothic Horror & Weird Flash Fiction

[dizzybee]

On 7/11/2024 at 9:06 PM, dizzybee said:

 

Murdered Love: A Sonnet (Gothic/Horror)
 

I look past the red marks that mar her neck
and waver at her softly parted lips—
which seem almost upon the cusp of moving—
and I imagine I might catch her whisper.
For though she now lies still and doesn't stir,
it looks as if she merely holds her breath
and will soon breathe again and, so, revive,
and the vigor she had return to her once more.

And as I watch and wait to see her off,
I find myself still captivated by her.
And yet, somehow, I feel as if she knows
I wish it didn't have to be this way:
and I can almost see her smile at me—
the way I would want to remember her.

 

Someone might like this but it’s the wildest thing I’ve ever seen in literature and it’s something that sticks with you, but it explains why my character here half expects his victim (wife) to breathe again. Honestly, it stands alone as one of the all time most horrific scenes in classic literature… ‘Wieland,’ by Charles Brockden Brown (chapter 19)…

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/792/792-h/792-h.htm#link2HCH0019

[AlSymerz]

That's some impressive detail.

Reads a bit like HP Lovecraft in part.

[dizzybee]

20 hours ago, AlSymerz said:

That's some impressive detail.

Reads a bit like HP Lovecraft in part.

I know, right? lol. He grew up a Quaker, his dad a reverend or what have you. His word choice and especially the pairing are rather interesting and quirky.

Sex Scene

Dave held his newly published novel in hand
and marveled at the quality of it.
Professional in every sense, he thought.
The book itself was quite the work of art,
and, inwardly, he thanked the publishers
for their hard work in bringing it to market.
Now that the public could view it, it truly
felt like an exhibition of his work,
and, with a presentation like this, he
was hopeful it might garner some attention.
And yet, it seemed surreal to be the author
responsible, since, if it was successful,
he could end up counted among the greats.
He nearly trembled at the thought of it.
For a moment, he almost feared the book,
and what it meant to be immortalized.
Thumbing through it, he found a random page
and read a passage from it. When he did,
the breath caught in his throat and his heart sank.
Before him was a thinly veiled account
he hadn’t meant to leave in the manuscript
of an affair between he and a colleague.
How he lavished upon their lovemaking
struck him as little more than worthless smut—
in this case, particularly well-written smut.
He thought about his wife, if she found out,
and he knew that she wouldn’t understand.
It was too late, though, the book was in print.
He swallowed hard and tucked the book away
on the bookshelf. She might never read it,
he thought, and everything will work out fine.
For now, all he could do was wait it out,
and see how long it would go undiscovered.
Because, if she ever did lay eyes on it,
she would instantly recognize the name,
and not only would she file for a divorce
but there would be a scandal with the book.
 

[dizzybee]

This last one, ‘Sex Scene,’ went through a fair amount of editing since I initially posted it. Sorry but not sorry, really. It’s a much more coherent piece now and I think more worthy of your time and attention.

[AlSymerz]

 It needs a sequel where she cuts his balls off with a carving knife.

[dizzybee]

16 minutes ago, AlSymerz said:

 It needs a sequel where she cuts his balls off with a carving knife.

I’ll see what I can come up with. 

[dizzybee]

Blood Moon: An Octave

Earth's shadow falls upon the bright-lit orb
Turning its snow-white glow a ruddy hue:
And, as The Man in the Moon waxes crimson,
The full moon takes on a horrific new look,
Revealing the gruesome features of a skull
Whose flesh has only recently been stripped
And glistens wet with gore in the lamplight,
Where it resides within some lone, dark alcove.

[dizzybee]

Grandma?

He knocked and waited and then tried again.
Some minutes passed and still there was no answer.
He tried the handle, but the door was locked,
and when he shouted there was no reply.
Pressing his ear against the door, he listened.
He could hear something on the television
though nothing else. But she had to be home.
And yet, she wasn't answering the door
and he began to fear the worse for her.
Going around the house he checked the windows.
On every one he found the curtains drawn.
He reached the backdoor. Thankfully it was
unlocked allowing him to gain access.
He stepped inside and there was a commotion
when something small and furry bolted from
the kitchen and went into the other room.
It startled him, but he quickly realized
he had merely frightened his grandma's cat.
"Hello," he said, "Is anybody home?
It's just me, your grandson, so that you know."
He headed for the living room, still calling:
"I'm just here to check on you, if that's alright.
Grandma?" When, upon entering the room,
he pulled up short, gasping at what he found.
Grandma was there, still sitting in her chair.
Her face was nothing but a bloody mess
and her blouse was covered in her own blood.
"What in the world happened here!?" he yelled out.
He rushed to grab the phone and heard a mew.
Turning, he found the cat in the doorway,
its face covered in gore matting its fur.
It was then that he knew what really happened.
"You little bastard!" he told the damned thing.
"You ate Grandma's face off, once she was dead!"
It was true, although the cat was innocent.
For, Grandma must've died some days before,
and it was merely desperate for food.

 

[Note: Inspired by ‘Like Carrion Birds,’ by Abigail Williams, and my cat Abbey who I named after the band.]

[dizzybee]

 

[dizzybee]

14 hours ago, dizzybee said:

"You little bastard!" he told the damned thing.

I left this shameless plug to one of my favorite short stories, and I’ll leave it here in case anyone has time to kill and wants to see some crazy stuff, but it not only adds another layer to my story Grandma? but is a great read by itself of course.

 

[dizzybee]

Anyway, here’s the book I patterned the blank verse of Grandma? on. I’ll be drawing inspiration from it a lot and thought I might as well show it to you, even if only the cover.

[dizzybee]

I’ll be away for a week or so while I work on another project but wanted to perhaps discuss Grandma… So, in Beowulf, the great hall Heorot has gone quiet, no longer holding celebrations after the attacks of Grendel. ‘Grandma?’ starts with the quiet house (even though the cat didn’t kill Grandma it still plays the part of Grendel.) Grendel often flees into the wilds, so the cat does too in a way when bolting into the other room. Grendel eats people, literally, like the cat. Anyway, I hate to explain it, but I don’t want anyone to miss it, especially if they don’t know Beowulf. But it is kinda fan fiction in a way.

[dizzybee]

An old work of mine, but it belongs here, I imagine… not gothic horror or weird but powerful enough, I think.

Greatest Hit

Randy was hammered and talking too loudly.
He stopped mid-sentence on one of his rants,
and raised his beer for his bandmates' attention.
He stood there, frozen like a tilted statue,
sincere in stance yet seeming ready to fall.
''Just wait," he said, "We should do it tonight.
We're all here. Let's just fucking do it, guys!
We should rock out so hard, write a hit song
to terrorize people's goddamn eardrums
when they come out to one of our live shows!"
The others in the band all gaped at Randy
like he had put the fear of God in them.
Then, everyone looked at each other in turn,
and slowly nodded their heads in agreement.
"Say what," said Jack, "I like that idea, Randy.
We can jam and worry about the rest later."
"Hell yeah!" said Randy, "Let's get serious!"
Something came over him, his eyes grew wide.
"We're going to rock out like psychopaths!"
he shouted, then chucked the beer in his hand,
so hard the glass shattered against the wall.
"Holy shit, dude!" said Jack, "The hell was that!?"
"Call it inspired," Randy replied, and squinted.
Jack went over and sat down at the drums,
and said, "Come on guys, I've got an idea,
a little something that might get us started."
He took his sticks and laid out a vicious drumline,
so beautiful and frantically intense
everyone in the band's faces lit up.
"We'll call this one, 'Let's Rock Before We Die!'"

[dizzybee]

The Followers

Anymore now I find them everywhere.
I would rather it not be true, and say
my mind is simply playing tricks on me,
but wherever I go these 'apparitions'
appear, showing up when I least expect,
only to vanish once I notice them.
I don't know who, or even what, they are,
but it's enough to test my sanity.
For when I look at them, I find that they
are something else entirely and not
a person at all (as I had mistaken.)
And yet, it keeps on happening like this,
and I feel it's not just coincidence,
and that I really do have these followers
shadowing my steps everywhere I go.
But what troubles me most about it, now,
is how they seem to be approaching me,
and coming nearer than they had before…
Even now, I can feel them drawing in,
and I fear they will soon be upon me!

 

[dizzybee]

Bloody Mess

Getting back to my feet, I stumble towards
The door, where I hear you call out to me,
Concerned as to why I’m suddenly bawling.
I tightly clutch my wrist and the great gouts
Of blood gushing from the stab wound I made;
Where the arrowhead pierced the tender flesh,
And left me bleeding out upon the threshold;
Only for you to have to come rescue me.
You are not so far away you cannot help
Me stop the bleeding before it's too late:
For I don't want to die, right here and now.
And yet, somehow, I know you will not let me,
And that you will make it all go away,
And show me how everything will be okay.

 

 

[dizzybee]

‘Bloody Mess’ was written to the new Seether song, ‘Judas Mind,’ on repeat, and better fits the vibes I was going for, in the opening octave especially, where Incubus would be more for the turn and the sestet. I’ve been a fan of Seether for a very long time, and even saw them live, so I’m really interested in their new work.

 

[dizzybee]

Lightning Strikes

A storm approaches with the sound of gallops,
As fronts converge like two rams in contest
On the hill of the sky, and heave themselves
Headlong against each other with a 'clack!'

Behold, such brash displays of strength and might!
And watch in awe, as glory goes to the victor!

Heads lowered as they meet in their careers, 
Horns clatter with the violent spark of lightning;
Earth and sky tremble with the sudden strike,
And echoes with the rattle of their frames.

Behold, such brash displays of strength and might!
And watch in awe, as glory goes to the victor!

 

[dizzybee]

Sometimes I write poetry, such as the sonnet and the song above. But I’m always listening to music. I prefer extreme metal, but had noise complaints and a neighbor woman flashing her flashlight in my window late at night. So, I’ve kind of gravitated back to music with clean lyrics, but find I still like the classics the most, when it comes to mainstream.

Anyway, Lightning Strikes is patterned after something like Thunder Kiss ‘65, even though there’s a Judas Priest song of the same name I was fully aware of and might’ve borrowed energy from.

 

[dizzybee]

Together Alone

But for the ceaseless chirping of the crickets
the night was still and calm and, perhaps, quiet.
Thanks to the cab light glaring overhead
the woods seemed darker than they really were.
Sarah stopped digging through her purse a moment,
and turned her head and smiled sweetly at Lain.
"Thanks," she said, "I feel better we're out here.
The city makes me nervous. Always has."
Lain hadn't wanted to go out to the woods.
It seemed unnecessarily precautious,
but he’d obliged, aching just to get laid.
Sarah went back to digging through her purse.
"Ever been with a prostitute before?"
"Maybe a couple," Lain said. "But not many.
It's not all that often I get the chance."
"Really? When's the last time you were?" she pressed.
"What?" replied Lain. "Not sure that I remember.
Why do you want to know? I'm a clean person.
I mean, if that's what you're trying to ask."
"No," Sarah shook her head, “I’m curious.
I just like to know what I’m working with."
"Honestly," Lain said, "you're incredibly
beautiful and I want to screw your brains out."
She gave him a devious look, and said,
"Well, okay! But I still have one last question."
Just then, she whipped a gun from out her purse,
and held it pointed at his head. "Don't move!"
"What the. . .?’ said Lain. "You're going to rob me?"
"No," Sarah said, "I can't tell if you're lying."
"About what?" Lain asked. "I don't understand."
"The women you have been with," she replied,
"I don't know if you're who I'm looking for.
Some weeks ago, they had found my friend dead,
murdered by one of her clients, we think.
But no one knows the man that she was with."
"It wasn't me!" Lain said. "I promise you."
Sarah looked away and thought about the chances.
"It doesn't matter. One way or another,
I'll get him. As for you, you could be him.
That's why I'm going to kill you, right here!"
"Don't," Lain pleaded. "Sorry about your friend,
but I'm as innocent as anybody!"
"Becky," Sarah said. "Her name was Becky. Say,
'I'm deeply sorry about your friend, Becky.'"
He did, repeating it in a shaky voice,
"I'm deeply sorry. . . about your friend, Becky."
No sooner had he finished, and she shot.
He bucked and convulsed in a violent spasm,
brains exploding out the back of his head,
and crumpled in a heap where he was sitting.

 

fin

 

[dizzybee]

@AlSymerz here’s the closest you might get to that sequel. xD

[dizzybee]

Spent a few days in the hospital and wrote this on about 20 sheets of paper… you know, out there writing in the field. A nurse walked off with my first final draft, but I had written something for her last year that was really fun. I’m not going to quit writing gothic horror, no matter where I am, you can bet on that. 😇

The Nurse

She felt the needle poke her through her glove,
and took a sharp breath, before seizing up.
The nurse looked at the man sitting before her,
and didn’t say a word about what had happened.
The way he stared blankly back at her,
he was completely unaware that there
was anything wrong then, and didn’t know
how dire the situation had become.
“I need to step away,” is all she said,
then quickly left the room. There wasn’t really
a procedure for situations like this,
not when the patient had contracted AIDS,
but she had heard accounts, where, acting quickly,
the victims had staved off the actual
infection with a dose of antivirals.
However slim it was, there was a chance
that she could stop the deadly virus before it
took hold and propagated in her body.
Making it to the sink, she scrubbed her hands,
paying special attention to the site
where she had poked herself. Seeing the red
pinprick where the needle had left its mark
caused her adrenaline to surge. A tremor
went through her body and she had to brace
herself against the basin in front of her.
Praying a silent prayer, she dried her hands,
then quickly went to seek the doctor out.
And, although they would take the proper measures,
she would have to live with the anxiety
until a test would reveal anything.

 

 

I was born the same day that they had announced the discovery of the actual virus that causes AIDS, so please understand this isn’t supposed to be that kind scare.

[dizzybee]

The Death of Love

Our love is fading, the same as these blooms
Wilting upon the branch out in the frost;
That hang, now, sapped of their vitality,
And have lost that which made them beautiful:
Even now, they are withering away,
Merely as shells of their once shining glory--
Helpless to go against the change of season--
While the body begins to slowly die
With each and every day that comes along;
Knowing, in death, there is a definite end,
Just as our bonds will not outlive the grave.
As a flower will at last fail to stand
On its own and gravity makes it droop,
We will soon slump together and decay.

 

[dizzybee]

The Scam

 

He looked at the phone ringing in his hand,
and laughed quietly at the ‘spam alert’
and how persistent these people could be.
That’s when it struck him, and he realized
this was the chance he had been waiting for,
and that it would be fun to lead them on,
perhaps trick them into thinking they’d found
another fool to sucker for his money.
All the excitement over nothing would
be the funniest thing he'd seen in a while.
He paused and let it ring several times
while he considered how to play it off.
Hoping to come across as gullible,
he answered with his friendliest, 'Hello?'
"Yes, sir," a voice kindly responded. "I'm Raymond,
I'm with your bank. I’ve called to inform you
that there’s been a mistake with your account..."
"Really!?" he said. "Hope it's not serious?"
"No, no," came the voice on the other end,
"it’s not your fault. We just need reimbursed.
A simple money transfer should solve it..."
"Great," he said. "But I don't have any money."
The phone went quiet for several seconds
then started beeping, the call being dropped.
He laughed at first. But, when he thought about it,
he hadn't really played a prank at all.
He fell back into his seat on the couch.
Sadly, they hadn’t wanted much to do
with a nobody who has nothing to take.

 

 

[dizzybee]

Made a significant revision this morning and added five lines that make a big difference.

[dizzybee]

Under Surveillance

My friend looked funny in his tinfoil hat,
though, as it was, he was dead serious
when he pressed me to quickly get inside,
a few days' worth of stubble on his face,
the clothes he had on mildly disheveled.
Going to the window, he cracked the blinds
and waved me over so I might have a look.
"You see that car, the one parked by the curb?"
I leaned in for a better look and nodded,
though nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
"What about it, exactly?" I asked him.
He glowered at me. "I’m under surveillance!
The gentleman inside is watching the house.
Same as he has been for the last few days.
I don't know what he's waiting for, but something
tells me he might work for the government.
And who knows what they're willing to employ
to get me to comply with their agenda.
That's why the tinfoil hat. Being precautious,
you know. I don't think they're playing around.”
“Ok, but why would they come after you?”
I asked, wanting to know where his mind was,
and if something wasn’t alright with him.
“I must know something they don't want me to..."
he said then closed the blinds and looked at me.
"But it doesn't make any sense," I stated.
"You're just a normal, everyday person.
Why would they want to bother you any?"
He merely stared back at me, so I insisted,
"Are you sure you feel okay? You look tired."
When, all of a sudden, he took a stance.
"You're one of them, aren't you!?" he said and placed
his hand against my chest and shoved me back.
"What are you talking about!?” I argued,
although I hoped he would come to his senses.
“No one is after you. Not me, and not
anyone else. We need to get you help..."
With this remark, he flew into a rage.
Before I knew it, had me out the door
and fleeing from the property. It was
only when I was a ways down the road
when I happened to glance in the rearview
and saw the strange car was following me,
the very one that was parked by the curb!

 

 

 

My sister and I had plotted this one together while meeting up in town.