horror

TERROR’S CAVE…

 Though it made her sick, she could roll Sara’s dismembered body back into the water since she was as good as dead anyway, but that thing didn’t want food. It wanted to play. The cave was vast. She couldn’t go back the way she came. The tide was rising and the creature’s spiny tail flipped up here and there letting her know that it was waiting. She’d have to press on deeper inside where there was no light at all, no promise of escape and God only knew what else waiting…

© kym darkly

Strangers…

The sweet success of ripping a freshly painted nail from his victim’s tortured finger, the exquisite pain she must have felt from the flush of bright rich blood. It was glorious watching her green eyes burn with hate and fear, her screams muffled by black stockings. But he wouldn’t visit again, not until she had healed her wounded soul. Not until she had reconsidered the window that, although locked, was easy to force open. Not until she missed him, as she surely would. She loved him after all, didn’t she? Then again, maybe he wouldn’t ever come back. It was a very strange marriage, even for him…

© kym darkly

Monster Mash…

The thick walls were pumping all around them, sucking and slapping visceral, mucus-saturated flesh up against their skin, burning them with secretions from its great pores. When the muscular walls began to crush their bones, they tried to move, to scream, but all three were quickly squeezed up tightly together. Soon one’s leg would become the mush of another’s arm pulp, human pulp – and they would slowly be digested by this creature that had swallowed them… 

 

© kym darkly

The Provocateur…

Something’s holding onto my mind,” he screamed – hands to head, nails digging in fiercely. “Why won’t you go?” The truth was she couldn’t. There was no way to step out of another’s thoughts. She had no control over that. Torture was her trade and sex was part of the deal. He’d paid for it and now he just couldn’t let it go: the memories, the craving, his desperate need for more. It was his hold that haunted him: his problem, not hers for she just made transactions – besides he was her very best client…

© kym darkly

REVENGE…

Today she had a date, but that part of her mind that she had stuffed away for all those years, the dangerous part, had resurfaced against her wishes. All the pain and betrayal had made that part really angry, enraged. It lived in the past. Before her date had arrived, it had made her gather instruments and hide them behind the love seat that they now sat on. She was afraid. He was different from her first love. She didn’t want to hurt him. He was a nice guy. He had brought red wine and roses. He was sweet, but he smelled like “him,” which made that dark part of her mind light up with fury. It made her reach behind the couch and grab a hammer. It wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t stop herself…

© kym darkly

BLACK MARKET…

Coming to: chained to a radiator, a severe headache and incrusted blood that had sealed an eye. His free hand snaked down over his aching stomach. Stitches! His heart pounded. His mind leaped to the horrors of human trafficking and the illegal organ trade. What the Hell had happened? But when he felt an eel-like entity move beneath his skin, he didn’t wonder, what had they taken out? What he really wanted to know was what his kidnappers had put in…

© kym darkly

Clairvoyance…

This crystal ball was different. It didn’t just glow; it tugged at her mind until it was pulled inside. Her slim fingers glossed slowly over it, caressing, feeling for futures, but today the Shew Stone didn’t want to entertain Tressa’s client. Today it had its own mission: to show her the imminent danger in her own life.

Tressa’s stomach knitted together with tight, steel fibres of fear. She could feel the answer coming to a question she had never asked. Black bubbles that she’d never seen before floated listless like a lava lamp beneath all ten digits that clasped the ball hard, as if to stop it. She shuddered. The ball she knew so well was warning her that something was coming to a slow, dark end.

Tressa angrily drew her hands form the crystal, but it exploded in response, throwing out black wax that consumed every inch of her. Falling to the floor, she fought the thick liquid like a fly trapped in a spider web – fought until it had worn her down, torn her apart, muffled her screams, and suffocated her. When the black sucked back into itself and dissolved, there was no more Tressa. No more future. Her time had come.

Remembering nothing, The client got up and left…

© kym darkly

Burlesque

©Tanya Grout

The rich ruby of her lips, the severe pinch of her waist, the stocking that shot a thick onyx thread up the back of her sweet leg, a leg that swung provocative over a chair, her fine stiletto piercing the air: all had their place in his mind. He would hide in the wings for her, sweating into his clerical collar. God had left him now – a peep in the shadows: dreaming, regretting, praying, planning…

 

© kym darkly