#shortstories — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #shortstories, aggregated by home.social.
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Babette’s Feast and Other Stories, by Isak Dinesen [Karen Blixen]
I have a great fondness for Isak Dinesen's strange and Scandinavian short stories. Five years ago I described her Seven Gothic Tales (1934) as 'Rather long, but astoundingly inventive, and ought to be well known in fantasy circles since they predate most modern fantasy writing'. I found this Penguin Modern Classics edition of Babette's Feast and Other Stories in the charity bookshop my husband works in, and I gobbled it in two nights. Like PMC edition of Seven Gothic Tales this is a […]https://katemacdonald.net/2026/09/06/babettes-feast-and-other-stories-by-isak-dinesen-karen-blixen/
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Babette’s Feast and Other Stories, by Isak Dinesen [Karen Blixen]
I have a great fondness for Isak Dinesen's strange and Scandinavian short stories. Five years ago I described her Seven Gothic Tales (1934) as 'Rather long, but astoundingly inventive, and ought to be well known in fantasy circles since they predate most modern fantasy writing'. I found this Penguin Modern Classics edition of Babette's Feast and Other Stories in the charity bookshop my husband works in, and I gobbled it in two nights. Like PMC edition of Seven Gothic Tales this is a […]https://katemacdonald.net/2026/09/06/babettes-feast-and-other-stories-by-isak-dinesen-karen-blixen/
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Babette’s Feast and Other Stories, by Isak Dinesen [Karen Blixen]
I have a great fondness for Isak Dinesen's strange and Scandinavian short stories. Five years ago I described her Seven Gothic Tales (1934) as 'Rather long, but astoundingly inventive, and ought to be well known in fantasy circles since they predate most modern fantasy writing'. I found this Penguin Modern Classics edition of Babette's Feast and Other Stories in the charity bookshop my husband works in, and I gobbled it in two nights. Like PMC edition of Seven Gothic Tales this is a […]https://katemacdonald.net/2026/09/06/babettes-feast-and-other-stories-by-isak-dinesen-karen-blixen/
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Babette’s Feast and Other Stories, by Isak Dinesen [Karen Blixen]
I have a great fondness for Isak Dinesen's strange and Scandinavian short stories. Five years ago I described her Seven Gothic Tales (1934) as 'Rather long, but astoundingly inventive, and ought to be well known in fantasy circles since they predate most modern fantasy writing'. I found this Penguin Modern Classics edition of Babette's Feast and Other Stories in the charity bookshop my husband works in, and I gobbled it in two nights. Like PMC edition of Seven Gothic Tales this is a […]https://katemacdonald.net/2026/09/06/babettes-feast-and-other-stories-by-isak-dinesen-karen-blixen/
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Babette’s Feast and Other Stories, by Isak Dinesen [Karen Blixen]
I have a great fondness for Isak Dinesen's strange and Scandinavian short stories. Five years ago I described her Seven Gothic Tales (1934) as 'Rather long, but astoundingly inventive, and ought to be well known in fantasy circles since they predate most modern fantasy writing'. I found this Penguin Modern Classics edition of Babette's Feast and Other Stories in the charity bookshop my husband works in, and I gobbled it in two nights. Like PMC edition of Seven Gothic Tales this is a […]https://katemacdonald.net/2026/09/06/babettes-feast-and-other-stories-by-isak-dinesen-karen-blixen/
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Behind the Scenes: Part 3
Behind the Scenes with Our Latest Sketch Every page of a picture book starts with simple lines on paper. Before we worry about color, lighting, or final details, we use these initial drafts to figure out how a scene feels.I wanted to share this rough drawing from another scene we are working on. In our house, my kids like to spot the tiny details in these early sketches that sometimes change by the time the final book is printed. Rough Sketch from Sharing Kindness Wherever I Go Drafting […]https://heathercongrove.com/2026/09/05/behind-the-scenes-part-3/
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Behind the Scenes: Part 3
Behind the Scenes with Our Latest Sketch Every page of a picture book starts with simple lines on paper. Before we worry about color, lighting, or final details, we use these initial drafts to figure out how a scene feels.I wanted to share this rough drawing from another scene we are working on. In our house, my kids like to spot the tiny details in these early sketches that sometimes change by the time the final book is printed. Rough Sketch from Sharing Kindness Wherever I Go Drafting […]https://heathercongrove.com/2026/09/05/behind-the-scenes-part-3/
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Behind the Scenes: Part 3
Behind the Scenes with Our Latest Sketch Every page of a picture book starts with simple lines on paper. Before we worry about color, lighting, or final details, we use these initial drafts to figure out how a scene feels.I wanted to share this rough drawing from another scene we are working on. In our house, my kids like to spot the tiny details in these early sketches that sometimes change by the time the final book is printed. Rough Sketch from Sharing Kindness Wherever I Go Drafting […]https://heathercongrove.com/2026/09/05/behind-the-scenes-part-3/
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Behind the Scenes: Part 3
Behind the Scenes with Our Latest Sketch Every page of a picture book starts with simple lines on paper. Before we worry about color, lighting, or final details, we use these initial drafts to figure out how a scene feels.I wanted to share this rough drawing from another scene we are working on. In our house, my kids like to spot the tiny details in these early sketches that sometimes change by the time the final book is printed. Rough Sketch from Sharing Kindness Wherever I Go Drafting […]https://heathercongrove.com/2026/09/05/behind-the-scenes-part-3/
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Behind the Scenes: Part 3
Behind the Scenes with Our Latest Sketch Every page of a picture book starts with simple lines on paper. Before we worry about color, lighting, or final details, we use these initial drafts to figure out how a scene feels.I wanted to share this rough drawing from another scene we are working on. In our house, my kids like to spot the tiny details in these early sketches that sometimes change by the time the final book is printed. Rough Sketch from Sharing Kindness Wherever I Go Drafting […]https://heathercongrove.com/2026/09/05/behind-the-scenes-part-3/
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The Dreamers of the Fading Bloom – Newsletter #8
August 19, 2026 23rd Lore Fragment Clamores Corallii MortiferiClamores Corallii Mortiferi, better known as the "Deadly Coral Cries," is an event in which the seaside village of Corallvik experienced a large increase in activity from the merfolk within the surrounding region.These creatures would emerge at night along the shoreline, singing for hours at a time. The village, which was located not far from the site of the event, experienced a disturbing number of residents waking from their […]https://veilofentheos.com/2026/09/04/the-dreamers-of-the-fading-bloom-newsletter-8/
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The Dreamers of the Fading Bloom – Newsletter #8
August 19, 2026 23rd Lore Fragment Clamores Corallii MortiferiClamores Corallii Mortiferi, better known as the "Deadly Coral Cries," is an event in which the seaside village of Corallvik experienced a large increase in activity from the merfolk within the surrounding region.These creatures would emerge at night along the shoreline, singing for hours at a time. The village, which was located not far from the site of the event, experienced a disturbing number of residents waking from their […]https://veilofentheos.com/2026/09/04/the-dreamers-of-the-fading-bloom-newsletter-8/
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The Dreamers of the Fading Bloom – Newsletter #8
August 19, 2026 23rd Lore Fragment Clamores Corallii MortiferiClamores Corallii Mortiferi, better known as the "Deadly Coral Cries," is an event in which the seaside village of Corallvik experienced a large increase in activity from the merfolk within the surrounding region.These creatures would emerge at night along the shoreline, singing for hours at a time. The village, which was located not far from the site of the event, experienced a disturbing number of residents waking from their […]https://veilofentheos.com/2026/09/04/the-dreamers-of-the-fading-bloom-newsletter-8/
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The Dreamers of the Fading Bloom – Newsletter #8
August 19, 2026 23rd Lore Fragment Clamores Corallii MortiferiClamores Corallii Mortiferi, better known as the "Deadly Coral Cries," is an event in which the seaside village of Corallvik experienced a large increase in activity from the merfolk within the surrounding region.These creatures would emerge at night along the shoreline, singing for hours at a time. The village, which was located not far from the site of the event, experienced a disturbing number of residents waking from their […]https://veilofentheos.com/2026/09/04/the-dreamers-of-the-fading-bloom-newsletter-8/
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The Dreamers of the Fading Bloom – Newsletter #8
August 19, 2026 23rd Lore Fragment Clamores Corallii MortiferiClamores Corallii Mortiferi, better known as the "Deadly Coral Cries," is an event in which the seaside village of Corallvik experienced a large increase in activity from the merfolk within the surrounding region.These creatures would emerge at night along the shoreline, singing for hours at a time. The village, which was located not far from the site of the event, experienced a disturbing number of residents waking from their […]https://veilofentheos.com/2026/09/04/the-dreamers-of-the-fading-bloom-newsletter-8/
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And yes, that means our time is fast approaching.
The place: Zoom.
The time: FOUR DAYS from now.
Get your ticket to ride >> writingtheoccult.carrd.co
#writers #writing #artist #filmmaker #film #books #tv #fiction #shortstories #novel #novella #sciencefiction #timetravel #horror #gothic #fantasy #darkfantasy #writingevents #writingtheoccult #occult #fortean #weirdfiction #weird
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#Novelists, #poets, professors, typewriters, and Asian-American identity conflict are features in several of the stories in this collection. Some of the #stories seem to have #memoir qualities.
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Late to Where We Belong. Short Stories Across Three Continents. Book Trailer https://youtu.be/7-Wo-X_SvZA?si=2tuyZrOScwb3_KsI
#Bookstodon #ShortStories
#Literature
#Fiction #AmWriting
#WritingCommunity
#IndieAuthor
#AuthorsOfMastodon
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👋 Greetings… again! I'm Rafe (that's pronounced "Rayf), a #dad and #IT helpdude from #Utah, #USA. I’ve dabbled in necromancy and raised this account from the dead to serve as my everyday, general “whatever” account here on the Fediverse! 🧟♂️ It’ll probably be a lot of #ShowerThoughts, project updates, and general nerdery.
#Tech that I currently use:
💻 “Nimbus” – an #Apple #MacBook Air #M3.
📱 “Newton” – an #iPhone 15 Plus.
🖥️ “MacMinty” – a 2012 #MacMini running #Linux Mint.
🖥️ “Riko” – a custom-built #Windows 11 Pro #gaming #PC that I can’t remember what I put in it.
📷 #Canon Digital Rebel XTi
📷 #Canon PowerShot SX620
📷 #Nikon EM🏷️ Tags that align with me: #ADHD #Ally #AmWriting #Atheism #DadLife #DemocraticSocialism #Dudeism #ExMormon #GoodVibes #Hiking #RoadTrip #StarTrek #StarWars
⚠️ While I generally avoid posting about politics or religion to keep things chill and positive, they may occasionally come up. That being said, all opinions are my own and subject to change if new 💩 comes to light.
You can also follow me:
📸 @ArtByRafe for #photography and other #art. #NoAI
✍️ @blog for #ShortStories and other #SFF #writing.
🎲 @[email protected] for #TTRPG nerdery (mostly #Daggerheart, #DnD, and the #PollPlayingGame that I’m running).
📼 @[email protected] for miniadventure microvlog things (coming soon). -
Hello #Mastodon. 👋
I am a short story writer, sharing my love for fiction here.
My process blends human imagination and technology: all core ideas come from my mind, and I use AI as a tool to help shape the stories.
#Introduction #Writer #ShortStories #WritingCommunity #CreativeAI #AuthorsOfMastodon #NewHere
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Pirra and Frost’s story is $1 on Barnes and Noble!
Guuuuyyyyyssssss. The story about a cute black fairy and the dragon shifter she’s trying to save from his crazy ass ex! It’s partially written in a poetry style, too! (No rhyming going on)
Take a look! https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/an-alien-space-dragon-and-a-fairy-lponi-baldwin/1149240854
Thank you~
Rate this:
#BlackAuthors #BlackBooks #BookPromo #books #Dragons #Fantasy #Fiction #indieAuthor #IndieBooks #literature #PoetryBooks #reading #ScienceFiction #ShortStories -
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;
All the king's horses and all the king's men,
Couldn't put Humpty together again.The fall took Mr Dumpty's breath away! Actually, in his entire life, that is, these four lines, he never suspected the fall.
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Midnight Tea in a Graveyard by Andrea Dean Van Scoyoc now live on Amazon
https://www.youtube.com/shorts/cyLV5G85Zp8 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H7T165CY You weren’t looking for another “cozy” read. You wanted something that feels like midnight in a cemetery—beautiful, wrong, and impossible to put down.Midnight Tea in A Graveyard: A Gothic Collection of Darkness by Andrea Dean Van Scoyoc is exactly that invitation. Each story, each piece, each line of prose has been pulled from twisted dreams, waking horrors, and regrets the author can’t shake. This […] -
This week on Underground Bookshelf:
Poem: "Bumblebee Yellow Swimsuit" by Kristen
Essay: How I read non-fiction books by Alex Chan
Resource: Nonfiction Books by Authors of Iranian Heritage (Part 2)Kids' Corner:
Women Who Broke the Rules: Sonia Sotomayor (Chapter Five)
Books that Center Homelessness for Middle Grade Readers Part 2The July contest: Own Voices, personal stories, Memoirs
More at: https://www.underground-bookshelf.com/
#ownvoices #shortstories #fiction #WritingContest #poem #Essays
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My favourite John Wyndham cover. Only The Wheel in this collection of early stories hints at the great writer of apocalyptic fiction that he was to become. Most of the stories are very much tailored to the American pulp magazines he was selling them to.
#Books #Johnwyndham #Shortstories -
Announcement: New Reading Period for the Fall Issue
Hello to all the writers, poets, and artists, and to our Heart of Flesh family,
We have a new reading period this year for our Fall issue! Our submission window will open on July 20th (in two weeks!) and will close on September 20th. Our editor-in-chief will be going on a mission trip at the end of September into October, and she needs a little extra time to go over submissions. The issue is still scheduled to be released in November.
We’re so excited to read your work. If you feel led, please pray for our editor — for the submission process, for the mission trip, and for the wisdom, discernment, and blessing from God to cultivate an issue that will glorify Him above all else.
May God bless and guide you all on your creative journeys, and we hope to see your work in the coming weeks!
Photo by Nothing Ahead on Pexels.com
#art #bookReview #CallForSubmissions #christian #fiction #newIssue #nonfiction #photography #poetry #reading #readingPeriod #shortStories #submission #submissionCall #submissions #Testimonies #testimony -
Short Story Sunday #2 – The Fourth Keeper
Gulls have a way of sounding almost human.
It was the first thing Andrew Kerr noticed as the ‘Hesperus’ pulled away from Eilean Mòr. The engine chugged steadily into the grey Atlantic until the little relief vessel became little more than a dark smudge against the horizon. Before long, even that disappeared into the drizzle leaving only the lighthouse, the wind and the sea.
Andrew had spent the previous five years tending lights around the Scottish coast, but nothing had prepared him for the Flannan Isles. The older keepers spoke of the place in lowered voices. They never refused an assignment outright – that was not the way of lighthouse men – but neither did they volunteer.
“It’s only lonely,” one had told him. Another simply shook his head.
“Mind the weather.” That was all.
The lighthouse itself was immaculate.Whitewashed walls, gleaming brass, every pane polished until it reflected the endless Atlantic beyond. Principal Keeper Malcolm Fraser believed that a clean lighthouse was a reliable lighthouse, and Andrew quickly learned that dust was treated almost as seriously as darkness.
There were three men stationed there. Fraser, Ian MacLeod and Andrew himself. The routine never changed. Rise. Clean. Wind the machinery. Polish the lenses. Log the weather. Trim the lamp. Eat. Sleep. Repeat…
But, by the third day he could almost believe the stories had not been exaggerated.
It began with a mug.
After breakfast, Andrew washed the cups and stacked them carefully on the wooden rack beside the sink. One. Two. Three. He counted them without thinking. The following morning there were four. He frowned.
“You expecting someone?”
Fraser looked up from his porridge.
“No.”
Andrew lifted the extra mug. “It’s not mine.”
“It belongs there,” Fraser replied without looking. MacLeod continued buttering his bread. Neither man seemed interested. Andrew shrugged. Perhaps one had been tucked away in a cupboard. He placed it back.
The following evening he noticed something else. Four pegs beside the door. Three oilskins hanging on the pegs, one peg empty. It was probably nothing. The station had once housed different crews. The spare peg had simply never been removed.
Still…He found himself counting.Three beds. Four mugs. Three men. Four pegs. It felt as though the island was beginning to play tricks.
A week later the weather closed in. Not a violent storm, but a slow, relentless mist that wrapped itself around the cliffs until the world beyond the lighthouse ceased to exist. The sea vanished, the sky vanished. Even the cries of the gannets seemed muffled. That evening Andrew climbed alone into the lantern room to tend the light. As the great lens revolved, its beam swept across a wall of white.
Then he saw movement. Three figures crossing the compound below. Fraser, MacLeod… Andrew frowned.That couldn’t be right. He was here.
He leaned closer. One man stopped. The second carried a coil of rope. The third wore no oilskins.
Andrew’s stomach tightened in confusion as voice spoke behind him.
“You’ll strain your eyes.”
He spun around. Fraser stood in the doorway. MacLeod beside him. Both carrying tools. Andrew looked back through the glass. The three figures were still there. Walking slowly towards the western path. One.Two.Three. Then another emerged from the mist.
A fourth.
The newcomer walked several paces behind the others. Not hurried or hesitant. Simply following.
When the four reached the edge of the cliff, the last man stopped. Though Andrew could not possibly make out a face at that distance, he knew – absolutely knew – that the figure was looking directly at him. The stranger raised one hand – not in warning or greeting. The gesture seemed like it was almost……in recognition…
Then the figure stepped calmly into the empty air beyond the cliff edge.
Andrew shouted.
By the time Fraser and MacLeod reached the window, there was nothing below except waves exploding against black rock.
“You saw them, didn’t you?” Andrew whispered. Fraser’s face remained unreadable.
“What exactly did you see, lad?”
“There were four.” Andrew heard his voice quaver in confusion and fear.
Silence. MacLeod lowered his eyes. Fraser rested one hand upon the window frame.
“My predecessor told me something when I first came here.” He began. Andrew waited.
“He said this island always has four keepers.”
“But there are only three…” Andrews voice faltered. Fraser nodded slowly.
“Aye.”
Neither man spoke again. No explanation followed. No laughter. Not even suggestion that Andrew had imagined it. Only silence.
The relief boat arrived twelve days later beneath a pale winter sky. Captain Morrison came ashore with fresh supplies and a sack of letters from home.
As Andrew helped carry provisions into the kitchen, the captain paused, his eyes on the drying rack. He looked at Andrew.
“Still keeping it, then?”
“Keeping what?” Andrew replied.
“The fourth mug?” Andrew felt the colour drain from his face.
“What fourth mug?”
The captain pointed. There they were. Four stoneware mugs. Dry, clean and perfectly arranged. Andrew counted them twice, then a third time. One. Two. Three. Four. When he turned to ask Fraser about it, the older keeper was already carrying sacks towards the store. MacLeod never looked up. Neither man acknowledged the mug.
Andrew packed his belongings that afternoon.
He never returned to the Flannan Isles. Years later, after his retirement, a journalist asked whether the stories about the vanished lighthouse keepers were true. Andrew smiled politely.
“No,” he said. “The sea took three good men. That’s all anyone can prove.”
The reporter seemed disappointed.
“So there are no ghosts?”
Andrew considered the question for a long moment. Then he remembered the mist. The cliff. The raised hand. The fourth mug drying quietly beside the sink.
“I didn’t say that.”
Outside, somewhere beyond the window, a gull cried over the sea, the sound almost human…
Perhaps it was…
#CreepyFiction #Fiction #Mysterious #ShortStories -
Welcome to the 6th Monthly Writing Contest of 2026! The theme is: HISTORICAL, GOTHIC, or PERIOD FICTION.
Please note: Fanfiction is NOT accepted. Please submit original work only.
Winners are featured on Underground Bookshelf!
https://www.underground-bookshelf.com/3190763_june-2026-contest-submissions
#writing #shortstories #poetry #fiction #historicalfiction #gothic #gothicfiction #periodfiction #writingcontest #poetrycontest #genrefiction
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Tales From The Territory: A Cosy ARC Book Review
Tales from the Territory is exactly what you’d expect from a compendium of short stories from the Legends & Lattes world. They are fun, cosy, and filled to the brim with wholesome and heart warming interactions, lovely character experiences, and overcoming difficulties.https://collectingandreading.co.uk/2026/05/28/tales-from-the-territory-a-cosy-arc-book-review/
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We're so excited to see two Stelliform titles make the absolutely stacked BSFA Longlist! Rebecca Campbell’s “Wider Than the Sky, Deeper Than the Sea” (The Other Shore) is nominated in Best Short Fiction and Syr Hayati Beker’s What a Fish Looks Like in Best Shorter Fiction.
See the full list here: https://www.bsfa.co.uk/bsfa-awards-longlist
#BSFAAwards2026 #BSFA #bookawards #literaryawards #bestshortstory #bestshortfiction #bestnovella #shortfiction #shortstories #shortstorycollection
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Shaving: A Greenland Diaries Flash Fiction
Nigel couldn’t believe his beard had gotten this long.
It was down to his chest, tangled and frizzy. It was black, but almost brown at its feathery edges. He could hear his father yelling at him to trim it, his high, almost husky voice echoing in his head. His father was ex military. He loved the clean shaven look and forced Nigel to follow that hairless motif, even though Nigel hadn’t picked up a weapon until the Drum started. Now, he always had one with him. The ravaged green world demanded it, even with the Drum destroyed and the Unnamed no longer hunting him at night.
Nigel wondered if his father was still alive in the nursing home in Saint Louis Park. He had barely been alive before the Drum. It wouldn’t make any sense for him to be spared.
Nigel had been lucky to hide in his Golden Valley home for most of the apocalypse. He had left for a few weeks to join survivors fighting an Unnamed by a lake that kept attacking them. It had been a hard fought battle. Only Nigel and a few others survived. None of them had the appetite for further confrontations with the Unnamed, and they all retreated to their former hiding spots. Those had been the last people he’d spoken to, except for a band of soldiers passing through who told him the Drum was destroyed, and the Unnamed were nonviolent unless attacked.
Nigel felt his dark, reflectionless face. His features were gaunt, weathered by a lack of nutritious food. His cheeks were flat, his nose large, his forehead dry. His lips were cracked and bloody in places. The weather had been fine. It was the fear eroding his flesh. The constant worry of the Unnamed returning, or a crazed Reanimated storming through the neighborhood.
Slowly, above his white bathroom sink, he began to trim his beard. There was no electricity for his razor, so he resorted to a pair of orange handled scissors he kept in his office for trimming documents. They were sharp, but loud as they crushed the fibers between its blades. In minutes, most of his beard was reduced to a prickly edge beneath his fingers. He sighed.
“I guess it’s time. They said it was safe.”
Ahead of him hung a wool blanket, yellow and brown, duct taped to the wall in miscellaneous streaks of silver adhesive. It dangled just above the sink.
It blocked the mirror.
He’d put it up during the first week, when he noticed the shadows watching him. Now, with the Drum destroyed, survivors passing through told him mirrors and reflections were back to normal. They no longer held phantoms.
He slowly reached for the fabric, then stopped.
“I can’t do it.”
He walked out of the bathroom with a shrug.
“I can’t believe it’s okay.”
I really enjoy writing about these quieter moments in the Greenland Diaries, where characters are learning to live again after a horrifying ordeal that shook the foundations of humanity. These bits of flash fiction give me ample opportunity for it. You can learn more about the mainline series right here. Thank you for reading!
#author #blogging #bodyHorror #books #cosmicHorror #darkFantasy #darkFiction #decay #fantasy #fiction #flashFiction #grief #hauntedLandscapes #horror #horrorWriting #identity #isolation #liminalSpaces #machines #memory #monsters #obsession #patrickWMarsh #poeticProse #prosePoetry #psychologicalHorror #shortStories #speculativeFiction #survival #teraryHorror #theGreenlandDiaries #transformation #trauma #weirdFiction #writing
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I Can’t Leave: A Greenland Diaries Flash Fiction
Rob had memorized the pattern of abandoned cars in the parking lot outside the building. A red van, a blue truck, a few white sedans, silent and sun faded, lay scattered across the velvet sheet of greenery in the basin around the office tower he’d been hiding in. He’d been fixing a boiler in the basement when the Drum began. Most of the building was empty that first night. Everyone had already left for the day. Only a handful were torn apart beneath the Unnamed’s obscene claws.
And then the office was empty.
Except for Rob.
He had always imagined himself different at the end of the world. At six foot five, all elbows and height, with an unkempt beard dropping to his chest and a perpetually worn Minnesota Twins cap, he’d figured he’d look the part. He had thought of himself as stereotypically male, chew, flannels, and a quiet, lumbering confidence. But when the monsters arrived and stalked the hallways, he learned quickly how fragile that image was. Back on his grandfather’s farm, he and his friends in their local anti government militia had joked that if the world ever collapsed, they’d be ready.
But once the Unnamed descended and began mutilating and resurrecting their victims, the only thing Rob grew adept at was hiding.
For someone so tall and broad, sneaking through the office should have been impossible, yet he’d shaped himself to its shadows. He learned to bend beneath desks, wedge between bookshelves, flatten against cubicles. Even when the Reanimated drifted through, he found ways to slip past them, though other survivors told him not to fear them. Those survivors were nothing like him. They weren’t afraid of the shadows. They fought them day and night. He’d heard their skirmishes echoing through the Drum. Even now, with it finally over, the night outside carried only wind, insects, and the soft groan of the building settling.
How were they so brave?
A few survivors had passed through recently and told him he could go home, or even find work with the Reestablishment. But he couldn’t force himself to leave the gray block of the office. Every time he packed his few supplies, slung the rifle he’d taken off a dead soldier, and started toward home, he barely made it a few blocks. A shadow, a rattle of debris, a shift in the wind, anything could spook him, and he’d sprint back to the familiar corners of the office floor.
Day or night didn’t matter.
He just couldn’t leave.
Thank you for reading my flash fiction from the Greenland Diaries. In this story, I wanted to show a character you might expect to be strong because of how they postured their identity, but when the apocalypse appeared they realized it was all an image without integrity. They weren’t actually built for the conflict they thought they were seeking. Monsters are an excellent mirror.
#author #blogging #bodyHorror #books #cosmicHorror #darkFantasy #darkFiction #decay #fantasy #fiction #flashFiction #grief #hauntedLandscapes #horror #horrorWriting #identity #isolation #liminalSpaces #literaryHorror #machines #memory #monsters #obsession #patrickWMarsh #poeticProse #prosePoetry #psychologicalHorror #shortStories #speculativeFiction #survival #theGreenlandDiaries #transformation #trauma #weirdFiction #writing
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I'm working on a new art project all featuring short stories about my life and also some random thoughts. Here's a new #drawings and this is one is the second drawing about the time I saw two #bros ordering a double #BigMac at #McDonalds.
#art #sketch #diplomatswife #illustrations #shortstories #travel #procreate
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I'm working on a new art project all featuring short stories about my life and also some random thoughts. I'm working on the first few #drawings and this is part two about the time I saw two #bros ordering a double #BigMac at #McDonalds.
#art #sketch #diplomatswife #illustrations #shortstories #travel #procreate
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I'm working on a new art project all featuring short stories about my life and also some random thoughts. Here's a new #drawings and this is one about the time I saw two #bros ordering a double #BigMac at #McDonalds.
#art #sketch #diplomatswife #illustrations #shortstories #travel #procreate
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I'm working on a new art project all featuring short stories about my life and also some random thoughts. Here's a new #drawings and this is one about the time I saw two #bros ordering a double #BigMac at #McDonalds.
#art #sketch #diplomatswife #illustrations #shortstories #travel #procreate
