Body Horror

Mina after Dracula: Blood of My Blood

Leave a Comment / FWC25-Hunger /

“Mina.” He said to me calmly, his analytical composure returning to him. “That night… when Dracula forced his blood upon you…” Abrupt. Tactless. My heart sank, the memories that haunt me every night flooding back to me in the light of day. Jack knew me well enough to see the fear as it crept over my face. “Its fine. Everything is fine, there’s just a hypothesis I can’t shake.” “Hypothesis?” I murmured, barely audible. “His blood, it may have had some unexpected… lasting… effects.”

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The Taste of Her

Leave a Comment / FWC25-Hunger /

When Mira was small, her mother never said I love you. She said, Finish your plate. She said, Don’t waste what feeds you. Years later, when her mother’s body thinned to transparency, Mira began cooking for her. At first, she thought it would save her. But hunger, she learned, was not a thing you filled. It was a thing that filled you. After her mother’s death, Mira cooks to remember. When her own blood drips into the pot and she tastes it, she finally understands what her mother meant. The more she feeds, the hungrier she becomes. (A lyrical horror story about inheritance, consumption, and the hunger that devours love itself.)

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Pretty Isn’t Pretty Enough

Leave a Comment / Creative Writing /

A warm feeling moved from Gwen’s chest to her hand. In a swift moment, she walked to her bag, grabbed her scissors, and took a step towards Abigail. She paused for a moment, the sound of Abigail’s cackle refusing to leave her mind. Gwen walked next to Abigail, grabbed her ponytail, and cut a chunk out of it. She didn’t deserve to have beautiful, long blonde hair. Abigail screamed, and Gwen shoved the hair into her sweatshirt pocket.

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Leave a Comment / Creative Writing /

And that’s when she saw a creature—Yes! A creature! She was mostly sure of it, indeed—perched atop a thick log with its knees drawn to its chest and its arms tucked at its side. It was the size of a small ferret, but humanoid with skin that was raw, like a torn away blister. It had a large network of veins so thick they twisted around the bones beneath the skin’s surface. The creature looked fragile, but she suspected it was agile and fast from the way it tracked her progress with its hairless head. She couldn’t quite make out the creature’s eyes, but the sockets were deep set and shadowed. She had no clue what it was, or if it was real. All she could think about was it coming after her. She picked up her pace, glimpsing it only through the trees as she scampered down the trail kicking up leaves behind her. Her head twitched back and forth between the creature and the walnuts resting in pockets of dirt in front of her, careful not to fall, but careful not to lose track of it either. Until she did.

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