©Tanya Grout

She’d clawed at his soul for forty long years: the whine in her voice, the demeaning comments, the demand to have her cigarettes lit because she couldn’t possibly do it for herself. He hated that bitch, but more than that he hated himself for being the pussy who let her walk all over him, shaming and emasculating him.

Tonight would be different. He’d put her in her grave where she belonged and just to be extra cruel, he’d bury her with her own hateful mother. They could fight it out in Hell, side by side for all eternity.

He looked deeply into her eyes as she drank the last of a laced glass of red, her pupils already starting to dilate. Yeah, he was gonna put her in the ground all right… but not before lighting her last cigarette…

© kym darkly


Whoosh! The big black wing hit the phone out of her hand and the candles blew out. Complete darkness…

Alone and afraid, the wings flapped around her, their waxy membranes clumsily slapping her face and arms so strong, she couldn’t breathe. They pummelled her from one wing to another with a harsh bristle that cut Billie’s skin. She felt blood run down her face and arms. She tried to shield herself, but this thing was relentless.

“Hello? This is the police department…” Billy could hear her cell somewhere. She started to scream, “Help, help me…”

But the piercing, through her open mouth stopped all that, the sharp object that impaled her tongue and crept harshly, staggeringly painful up into her brain arrested her in the moment… Then came the sucking… of her insides – out!

And then the dial tone…

© kym darkly


©Tanya Grout

The medium sat still in the shadows. He listened to Mi Li talk.

Her candle-lit face flickered of the Philippines, the nose, the eyes: almond shaped and beautiful. She was shaking. “Please help me,” she said, “Every morning, I hear the cat padding around the living room. I hear it yawn, eat its food, race up and down the curtains…”

“And that’s a problem?” The medium asked.

“Yeah, it is when it’s dead!” She said. “First my father died of a massive heart attack. The next day his cat jumps off the roof of the building, killing itself too. I find fur-balls everywhere, paw prints over my pillow and I wake up with scratches all over my body. It’s making me ill, I’m so upset.”

The medium slipped into a trance quickly and was soon shaking violently. He spoke in another voice that scared Mi Li because she knew it was someone dead reaching through from the other side. She hoped it wasn’t her father, as he terrified her some.

“The cat didn’t take its own life. Your father’s ghost did. The mad spectre dragged it by the scruff, screeching and mewling, up to that roof top and threw it off so he could have its company in the afterlife, but all he did was create an enemy…”

The medium slipped out of his trance. His eyes alive with warning: “You have a house guest: vicious and raging, out for blood with sharp teeth and razors for claws. Beware sweet Mi Li, Beware…”

© Kym Darkly


“There’s something growing inside of you,” the doctor said as calmly as she could.

“Oh God, another baby!” Kay said.

“No,” Dr. Zylich replied, “A baby would have been a blessing. This is more like a curse.”

Kay wriggled in her seat. She’d grown skeletally skinny in the last two months. Her sit bones hurt and her stomach had bloated unnaturally large. “Well, what is it?” She asked.

“They,” the Doctor corrected her, “They are a kind of worm.”

“What?” Kay stood up and walked to the MRI images posted on the wall.

Dr. Zylich pointed to the one that showed Kay’s abdominal area. “The largest ones are here, absorbing all the food you eat. That’s why you’re tired all the time and bloated.”

“So it’s like a Tape Worm? Fucking disgusting, but there’s drugs right?”

“Yes,” replied Dr. Zylich, “But they won’t work on these. These are not Tape Worms. These are something we have never seen before. Their teeth…

Kay gasped.

“They have teeth. Um, they’re unusual in behaviour. They disconnect, move around…”

Kay shivered remembering the “baby” kick in her stomach.

The doctor pointed to another MRI result. “See here in your arm, they have set up legions of smaller worms and infected the entire vascular system. They are hooked into each vessel and sucking the blood out of you into them. That is why your arm is swollen and blue and also why you are weak.”

“How can this be? From that stupid jungle trip?” Kay mumbled.

“They have also penetrated your brain, hence the neurological problems. One worm could easily eat through an average brain in four hours, judging by our results.” Dr. Zylich preferred to keep to facts as she knew the feelings were coming.

“Well don’t just talk. Get them the fuck outta my body.”

Dr. Zylich shook her head, no.

Kay was trembling. Lost. Tears washed over her cheeks, “What does this all mean?”

The doctor took a long pause. She looked kindly into Kay’s eyes.
“At this rate of multiplication and infestation, you could be dead by morning. You must go home and get your things in order… unless…”


“Unless you want to be a test subject…”

© kym darkly


Why was he wearing a helmet made of tin foil? I thought. Maybe he’s one of those UFO freaks.

“Lotta lost souls in them cities,” he said, a plume of rancid garbage wafting over. I noticed that his lips didn’t move. I looked around. There was no other on the train.

“The Lost Ones, thems you gotta look out for.” Still his lips didn’t move.

Train stopped. Lights out! Even emergencies. Pitch black.
An echo-scream flared from the bowels of the endless winding underground.

“Sound like animals trapped in time, don’t they? The Lost Ones are comin’
to rip yous apart.”

“What the fuck?” I blurted, not sounding at all like a Partner in Law at Burns and Badden. “They’re just coming for me? What the fuck about you?”

“I’m wearing a helmet,” he whispered. “They can’t hear me think.”

“Well I can!” I said angered by another scream, this time closer.

“Yeah, but you ain’t them,” he replied.

The next scream was in the car. Panic time. Whatever these things were, one was scampering right for me. I lunged across, grappled around for the old guy, grabbed his helmet and crashed it onto my own head. I stumbled back, completely blind in the dark.

His yelling was crushed by crunching, spitting, and slurping. Whatever it was, was enjoying him as a meal and I, though morally bankrupt, was safe – for now…

© kym darkly


Rage followed him home. He didn’t know what to do with it. It couldn’t be his. It must be someone else’s. Why didn’t it leave him and his Bourbon alone? He had enough problems goddamit!

Rage took him by the collar and dragged him into the bedroom. “They had sex here,” it told him and then, Rage slipped into his mind like flour skipping through a sieve. “The fucking War on Terror and now you come home to this? You deserve some respect!”

Now Rage was inside him, brewing, and he couldn’t wait for her to come through that door in her skimpy dress, especially given that she would be with that guy and he had more than enough ammunition for two.

The only problem was, he was a bit confused. It was strange, but he thought he might have killed them both already, three nights ago…

© kym darkly


Her body twirled slowly through the air like a pig on a spit. She had the haunted look of a girl whose soul had been stolen, but the peace of one bombed on cosmic drugs – paralyzed. Over the farm, a radiant beam cut the resident cow clean in two from head to hoof; one half fell heavy to the grass. The fog was thick, warm, but passing through on this lullaby of trance and mist she hit the other side: harsh light in the sky, blinding.

Wrinkled long fingers, eight to a hand, reached out like endless branches from the hovering craft, grasped her soft skin violently and fed her into a pod that shut down on her like a coffin.

Darkness. Fear. Peace and paralysis gone.

A gel crept up from below, moved into the small of her back, then over her hips. It hovered a thick rim around her face threatening to flow over and in. She kicked and screamed: an animal aware of the tortures of an abattoir. Then the sharp long knives stabbed up right through her, thin enough to barely damage an organ, but thick enough to terrify their victim. The creatures with the fingers were watching, their sight penetrating the capsule. They would observe their screeching specimen drown first and then the fun would begin…

© kym darkly

All materials on this website are © Kym Darkly. All rights reserved.

Please ask for permission to re-blog or re-post. I happily share 🙂


by Kym Darkly

Trying to find one’s body can be difficult, especially when the limbs have been torn apart: disarticulated by saws and knives and evil. It’s not like I wanted to go back into that rotting corpse. I just needed to have contact one more time with my own flesh before letting it go. It hurt to find a leg in the trash, a foot in the stove and my head in the fridge between the eggs and orange juice, cradled under someone else’s hand, but I had to know what had happened to me. I had to know what that madman had done. I do wish I hadn’t found my torso and hips though – unspeakable things… I can’t even say…

© kym darkly

All materials on this website are © Kym Darkly. All rights reserved.
Please ask for permission to re-blog or re-post 🙂


The creature that slid through his mind was sorting his thoughts – separating the “Hi how are you’s?” from the dagger stabs and blood mayhem that slashed the walls at night – a new apartment, another victim. He didn’t get it. He knew he was a good guy, but this thing had gotten in there and had been controlling him for days, maybe weeks. He felt so alone, now that he was a killer…

© kym darkly


It was a sharp fall of snow, biting, cutting. She wanted to steal inside the house across the street, to warm by the fire, to eat from the soup on the stove – but the voices said no. She was a Russian spy and that house was no longer her home, but the house of the enemy. Her mission, they said, was to take the pistol and fire at anyone who might enter or leave it.

It was hard to see in the driving snow but she fired and fired until the ground around her was full of shell casings.

In the morning her parents found her, surrounded not by casings but by pellets of medication not taken. There was no Cossack hat or thick fur coat that the spy agency voices had insisted she wear last night. No, Anna was in her pajamas, her body and naked feet sealed by ice into the bush from a mad rainfall overnight.

Her parents pulled and struggled to get her frozen body free. She was a good little girl, they cried, and had probably done as the voices had told her to do. It was just so sad that they hadn’t found her wandering aimlessly outside, too bad that they didn’t get to talk to her first…