Tag Archives: Horror

Read, Repeat

You must surely have heard the saying, “…things that go bump in the night.” Unknown sounds can conjure up a plethora of subjects to write about, especially in the horror genre.

I must admit that horror is not my favorite genre, but there’s always room for a “scare your pants off” type of story. For instance, even though I tend to write science fiction/fantasy and action/adventure, I can easily make space for a little horror in any one of my usual genres.

I think this is something you will find throughout the writing world, even in the most popular books of all those written in the romance genre.

That’s right; even in the lovey-dovey, smooch-my-face, world of romance, there is room for some good old fashion killing courtesy of the beast-next-door.

On the other hand, it doesn’t have to be the beast or anything else next door. It could just as easily be the paranormal being residing in your attic or the monster tick, tagging along on the mutt out back.

In fact, a chunk of horror can follow any genre and rear its ugly head at the most inopportune times.

Did you see what I’ve done? I have taken one of my least favorite type of books and made it one that will not only stand out in any crowd but also be taken by most in a positive light. Happy reading to all you new horror fans!

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Don’t Think I’ll Plant a Garden This Year

I sat at my kitchen table peering blankly through the bay window as I had done countless mornings before. I yawned and took a sip of hot tea. “Mmm,” I said. Just the way I like it, Sweet with lots of lemon.I continued to drink attempting to chase the fog from my head compliments of the previous night’s sleep.

Basil sprout at an early stage

Basil sprout at an early stage (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As I neared the end of my tea, I yawned one final time and then noticed something on my deck I hadn’t seen before, a strange pair of eyes staring at me. Its features were subtle, almost lucid and seemed to be pressed into its vibrant green, irregularly shaped paper-thin head.

I could see that its face, along with its now appearing spindly form, was caged but I could sense not of its own volition. It bore no animosity toward me for its imprisonment as far as I could tell but that could always change as I would soon find out.

The creature’s torso and limbs were a deep green, vine-like, with four slender fingers, each hand devoid of thumbs. There were no feet to speak of, the ends of the legs simply curling upward forming a spiral.

It wrapped both hands around its right leg and pulled. The extremity popped loose as if it had been rooted in some fashion. Repeating the process with the left leg, it easily slipped through bars that were proportionally useless in comparison being spread much too wide to contain the small being.

It began to make its way toward the window dragging its legs as if injured. With each step the small green creature became stronger. When it reached the window, it easily pulled itself up onto the window sill and peered inside.

Extending a single digit with a small green fingernail it first tapped the window and then, grinning widely, dug the nail deep into the glass. A sound similar to that of nails on a chalk board, only more unnerving, emanated from the ever-growing gouge.

The now dubbed, “Cutter,” extracted his finger and examined it carefully. Turning its attention toward me it let out a guttural cackle, furrowed the ridges above his eyes, which I took to be eyebrows, and began to furiously claw into the glass with all eight fingers.

Within seconds he was through the first pane of the double glazed sash and digging into the next. Shards of glass began to drop, bouncing off the kitchen floor as the Cutter pushed one arm into the room.

As the second-hand followed the first, a black blur slammed into the glass landing on the Cutter and snatching him away before he could wriggle through the opening he had created only moments before.

The crow pushed away and began to rise. Just as he cleared the railing, one of its legs fell from its body, trailing a small stream of blood. Then without warning, the crow disappeared in an explosion of black and crimson.

Out of the deluge, a small green figure floated slowly down, landing in the back yard. I could see the grass rustle as the Cutter made his way back to the house. It hopped onto the deck railing then down to the deck. It laughed maniacally as it slowly walked, stopping to observe the small pieces of glass still trickling from the open gash.

It pulled its body through, climbed onto the kitchen table, pausing for a split second and then lunged for my head.

I jerked back in anticipation of the strike, rousing myself from my daydream, or daymare, if there is such a word. I looked at the window and seeing there was no hole, I turned my attention to the terracotta pot on the back deck.

In the pot a basilplant, surrounded by a vegetable

cage used to support it as it grew, displayed a leaf that appeared to have a face imbedded on its surface. It seemed to smile as it swayed softly in the light breeze.

Wow! Just goes to show that a story can grow-up anywhere and at any time.

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