Kill Town, USA: Redneck Zombies, The Turn #Horror #Speculative

Kill Town, USA

by Joseph Love


From the doorway, we stared at a heavy woman with her arms tied by leather reins to the bed, her face pale and stained with blood. In fact, the whole room looked to have been sprayed with blood—streaked on the floor, puddled near a washbasin, and spattered across the wall and window. The front of her nightgown clung to her skin. But she writhed. She was alive. She twisted and contorted her body in the restraints. There was no noise except the rustling of the sheets. Her eyes open and lifeless, she must have turned several days ago. I couldn’t imagine the struggle to get her tied to the bed.
“She was ill a few days before she come out the room with a nosebleed. Worst I ever seen. When I tried to wipe it for her she bit me. Like I wasn’t—like she didn’t know me from anything.” Sewell unzipped his jumpsuit and revealed the wide bite mark on his shoulder. It had partially scabbed over and was deeply bruised.

Beth was being watched, just as they had said she would be... #Fantasy #MysterySuspense

Sangian: Returning

by Alan Dean


He was nervous, fear flickered on the edge of his resolve, but he didn’t move. He could see her clearly despite the lack of light. His eyes had got used to the dark. He could see her face, her smooth, clear skin. Flawless, like it had never seen the sun. She was only a foot or so from him. He knew she would have to see him; that she must have done so already. He knew he had to act or his moment of glory would pass by forever.
Pulse racing he stepped forward. She stopped, but didn’t look at him. She continued facing the way she’d been walking as though it was something else she’d stopped for, not a strange man on a deserted path in a darkened park, but something more usual, something not in the least threatening. Her manner disquieted him. He needed some show of fear to bolster him, and its absence sucked away his resolve. He stopped and waited in confusion for something to happen, for her to run so he could give chase and overpower her.
The girl turned her head slowly and looked straight at him. Bright sparkling almond-shaped eyes held his gaze and a flicker of somewhere long distant found its way through his defenses. He let his eyes drop. He’d not meant to, he knew it was a sign of failure, of weakness, but she was stronger than he was. He could sense that, and he feared that even his gesture of submission would not end what he had started. But no blows came. No sharp stab of pain. He looked up again hopefully. Perhaps she was smiling. Maybe it was something else she wanted, but she’d gone and the path was empty.

When darkness falls and the full moon rises, a shotgun is a girl's best friend... #Horror

Monster Story

By McCarty Griffin


He started toward her, but she backed away, growling past him at the thick wall of trees. She glanced in his direction once more, then, tail tucked, disappeared into the underbrush.
“What the hell? Get back here, dog!”
He could hear timber cracking and the underbrush snapping as something huge tore down the trail, coming on like a locomotive straight for him. He turned and fled.
“Sweet Jesus, sweet Jesus, sweet Jesus,” he chanted as he ran, his mother’s long-abandoned religion returning to him in extremis. He could feel its hot breath on the back of his head and gagged from the rank smell it exuded. Jesus God, what was chasing him?