Category Archives: darkness

Eight Minutes of… A New Year’s Eve Tale @Sotet_Angyal #horror #flash #fiction

Eight Minutes Of

Eight minutes of, the gala was in full swing. Women adorned in their finest gowns, men in their spats and tails. All twirled the dance floor with inebriated glee.
Seven minutes of, the lights dimmed, the glass baubles above took on an amber glow as heads lifted in wonder and delight.
Six minutes of, the largest crystal began to gleam, none could draw their eye from it; they froze entranced.
Five minutes of, the bloom grew blinding: the skin around each reveler’s eyes began to darken and crack; to ooze brown rivulets as they gazed beyond the light. Slack of jaw, their lips began to curl exposing desiccated gums. Teeth clattered to the floor as sockets shrunk and tongues retreated to withered husks.
Four minutes of, the first horn emerged from the starburst, followed languidly by the enormous beast – it struck the marble with a resounding crack as it landed upon cloven hooves and bent claw.
Three minutes of, the aberration stalked among the paralytic ensemble. The men it had no use for – it sought only breeders.  It sniffed, it tasted; it rent the unworthy to pieces. Gold and silver damask rippled through the air as it discarded one female after another.
Two minutes of, it chose a single sheep, a prize in grand finery festooned with shimmering gems.
One minute of, the creature stepped back through the starburst having seeded its offspring. The assembly of revelers fell to the polished slab; their flesh dusted the air upon impact, what clothes remained lay poised in eternal waltz.
At the stroke of midnight, the brilliant glimmer of the seven pointed star diminished to the chandelier’s soothing glow as a single scream ushered in the new year.

~ Nina D’Arcangela

© Copyright Nina D’Arcangela. All Rights Reserved.

Waves by Nina D’Arcangela @Sotet_Angyal #pained #horror #prose

Trapped within this bubble, I feel nothing of the arid landscape that surrounds me. I sit in subjugation, offered scraps to feed upon; amuse-bouche for the soul, or so I imagine. Apportioned morsels to sustain me, but never more than your callous ego will allow. Yes, I have licked the plate and the tang has seared my tongue, left a residue of shame that will forever taint my palate. I once soared with as much grace and majesty as the prey that circles overhead – a dangerous companion to adopt, folly perhaps, as I know what it awaits.

Freedom, such a simple thing, stolen from me by destiny’s choice; a truth mourned beyond measure. I was vibrant once, as vibrant as the now desiccated tree before me. I see its brittle limbs, its exposed bones; the crack that foretells of the next fractured moment. I live that moment with every breath, forever caught just before the fall, perpetually suspended in a state of flux. With bowed back, I am forced to genuflect, to stare into a shallow pool that lacks reflection; a me without identity, stripped of all dignity. With broken wings, I stagnate in this cage never to glide on lighter waves of air again.

© Copyright Nina D’Arcangela. All Rights Reserved.

‘Water’ #AtoZChallenge

You don’t know me; I’m something you’ve never seen before. You dare glance my way; enjoy the view from head to tail? Perhaps I should show you my tail, then you’d realize what little chance you have of escape. You think I have pretty eyes; crystalline and glistening – different hues of blue and green with a hint of amber shimmering in the sunlight? Should nature divine such a thing of its own? Your instincts tell you nay, but you engage none the less. Does their shifting tint lure you, are you enamored by the sparkle that holds your stare? Perhaps for you, it’s my hair; long, luxurious, the color of midnight gently twisting in the breeze. The kind of hair every man dreams his girl will have after he’s done fucking her; affirmation of a job well done. You think I wear it this way by choice? It’s not hair; it’s a brand, me the creature it was seared upon. I can no more shed it than water can choose to flow uphill. You’re reaching for it now, look at you; pathetic. Let me guess your thoughts: if only I could run my fingers though it just this once… It’s not your thought, it’s mine, placed in your head the moment I noticed you. You make me sick, the lot of you. Such easy pickings; such an eager feast laid before my kind.


© Copyright 2014 Nina D’Arcangela. All Rights Reserved.

Welcome to my April AtoZ Blog Challenge post! I hope you enjoyed my ramble, and come back for more! Don’t forget to visit the other bloggers participating by clicking on the badge to the right, or simply using this link. :}

‘Noise’ #AtoZChallenge

Legs dangling from the tiny wooden foot bridge, the drift of the brook carries my feet afloat. The air is damp and heavy this evening with a cloying fog left behind by the rains.

On warm summer nights like this, I often sleep on the screened porch so that I can hear the rain drum on the tin roof, feel its spray through the mesh covering the windows. When the rain stops, I wander without shoe or sock in the damp meadow bordering our small parcel. Beyond the meadow lies the thinning perimeter of a forest; tall, young birch trees skirting the edge. A dirt path leads to the foot bridge, the feel of damp earth on my feet a texture I enjoy as much as the wet grass. Sitting on the bridge in my pajama shorts and tank top, damp hair clinging to my face, I let the current stroke my feet clean.

Hearing a faint noise, I turn but can barely see the handrail of the bridge itself, let alone any farther. I dismiss it as a curious animal emerging from its den after the downpour. I hear nothing further, but the small hairs on the back of my neck begin to rise. I turn again, expecting to find something or someone upon me. Again, nothing is there. I refuse to be spooked by my own imagination. After several minutes, I neither hear nor feel anything further.

Legs still dangling, I lay back and rest on the wooded planks of the bridge. The late hour, calming fog, and soothing water conspire to lull me to sleep. I wake – after how long, I don’t know, but I notice the forest is eerily quiet, unnaturally so.

Pushing to my elbows, I wipe a hand across my face to clear my own inner fog. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. Whispering a tentative hello, I pull my legs up, but they don’t seem to want to work. Still focused in the direction of the movement, I reach down with my left hand to rub the feeling back into my limbs. I feel slick wood, slicker than it should be, but nothing else. Shocking paralysis grasps me by the throat; I go dead still, unable to move. Finally, my head obeys and pivots to look downward. Blood gushes from my severed knees, I stare in shock and disbelief, but still I feel no pain. Then I hear it, a growling that begins not from behind me, but from below me. I watch as it rises from the water and continues to grow in size. My voice once again finds me, and as I begin to scream; the low growl morphs to an enraged shriek.


© Copyright 2014 Nina D’Arcangela. All Rights Reserved.

Welcome to my April AtoZ Blog Challenge post! I hope you enjoyed my ramble, and come back for more! Don’t forget to visit the other bloggers participating by clicking on the badge to the right, or simply using this link. :}

‘Memory’ #AtoZChallenge

Why does a building in ruin speak so directly to me? What allure does a dank, musty corridor hold that a newer structure lacks? Beyond being one who embraces her wanderlust, I’m also drawn to the decay and sense of abandonment such places effuse. What stories have they to tell, what past once thrived within the now crumbling walls? What of the soul that may still canvas the lonely walkways? How do I turn my back on the call, look away when something begs to be seen? How am I to fight the desire to lay my eyes on what has long since gone unnoticed, unwanted, unwelcome? Perhaps I’m not meant to turn and walk away. Perhaps I’m one of the few who must see, must feel, must know what such a place wishes to whisper. Am I to consider myself a chronicler of all things forgotten, one who sits in judgment of those who haven’t a care? Or am I to realize that what has been abandoned, pushed to the side, lost and discarded recognizes me as a similar breed and is reaching out so that somewhere, somehow, something will retain a memory of me?

© Copyright 2014 Nina D’Arcangela. All Rights Reserved.

Welcome to my April AtoZ Blog Challenge post! I hope you enjoyed my ramble, and come back for more! Don’t forget to visit the other bloggers participating by clicking on the badge to the right, or simply using this link. :}

A Heart for Valentine’s Day


Can you feel it? My heart? It is beating solely for you; so strong – so swift; the rapid pump pulsing ever so swiftly through me.  My body pressed so close to your own; my soft fetid breath scampers across your sweet creamy skin.

I can feel your heart – I feel its quickening pace as I lean in ever closer, fingers trailing down your neck, across your throat, to the exposed cleavage you’ve offered me so unwittingly in your desire to please.  You do wish to please me, don’t you my sweet?  With just a single breath you will inspire me forever; ignite my undying lust; engender my everlasting devotion.

But what will this breath cost you my love, my scrumptious little morsel?  Are you willing to give me the breath I long to have, the one I will take whether you offer it or not?  Yes, my darling pet – hush now, I’ll have what is mine for you haven’t the will or the power to stop me from taking it.

My gentle stroke continues; a light fluttery caress of my small hand across your bosom; the first scrape of my nail on your soft swelling skin.  Oh – did that small wounding hurt you?  Gentle thing that you are, you know not of the glorious pain I could bring to you.  Please believe that I would never allow your pain to exist beyond a mere moment.  Hush now, be calm – there is no need to fuss, it will only last but a gasp for you, but for me – I shall remember it for all eternity.

There, be a good dear, lean back…  Yes I will lie with you.  Why would I ever abandon a creature as glorious as yourself, allowing another to set their desires upon you?  Did you not understand my claim of ownership?  Do you honestly believe you still have a choice in the matter?  Please my little pet, fret if you will, but know it only excites me more.

Yes, that is wonderful… That look of confusion, of fear – no one is coming to save you; you are mine and I will have my entire fill.

Your body now pressed prone below mine, the string of spittle still dangling from my own salivating mouth dancing around your glorious cleavage. Tentatively you look up to reassure yourself that there is no danger in this game we play. My loving caresses; my soft curvaceous body a mate to every sway and curve of your own; what a perfect fit we two. What a very perfect fit indeed.

As my long, soft hair gently strokes your sensitive skin, the sensation heightens your arousal – I can smell it. No need to look so frightened again, you are my pet, my doll, my toy – I am your Angel.  I shall unfetter your heart of all the distrust and skittish fear this cruel world has stamped upon it.  This beautiful, undulating, pulsating, quickening heart of yours.

Our eyes meet one final time; yours soft and gentle; as crystal clear as an azure sky; so tainted by pain, yet untouched by the depths of true malevolence.  Such a perfect specimen you are.  A fleeting moment of fear passes through those depthless orbs upon seeing the cold hard truth of my own; but only a moment – as I promised, I will not let you suffer…

Our eyes still locked; the exhalation of my lungs washing over you; my hand ripping through the pretty piece of fabric you’ve chosen to entice me with this evening. As the fabric falls away and your soft flesh begins to peel back under my ever digging claws, a look of panicked confusion crosses your face.

Ahhh… the moment begins. The moment when your fragile diminutive mind has still not recognized the danger that is quite literally upon you; the danger of the one you have called to you this night. Your poor feverish mind only now beginning to understand the situation, yet still unwilling to comprehend it; nor recognize the impulses that are telling you that your body is registering an odd sensation – an unbelievable amount of pain.

Staring into your fathomless eyes, I watch as the moment of recognition dawns there, lasting only the duration of a single heartbeat in which you realize on the most primitive level that you will not live to the end of this breath.

Yes, this is the glory, this is my desire, this is the euphoria I crave!

It’s not that I wish to rip such a beautifully undulating organ from your perfectly formed body, but how else shall I experience the utterly inexplicable pleasure I feel while watching what could be the dawn of an eon for me, yet only a breath for you… How else will I glimpse it in your eyes? The look of simple fear that is now ingrained in your stare feeds me in a way I could never describe to a mind that does not understand the raw power of emotional innocence. Yes, I am ripping your heart out of your chest; and yes it is beyond your most untamed imaginings to comprehend what watching this thought enter your disbelieving mind makes me feel.  My own body vibrates with the thrill of it. But it lasts only a mere instant before your eyes glaze over like polished glass – now the eyes of a doll – my doll, my beautiful expired toy.

Thank you for sating my need with your life; thank you for giving me your innocent trust; thank you for understanding how badly I needed this moment between us.  The sweet taste of your blood as I take my first lick of your now gaping chest tells me of your love for me.  If you did not understand, if you did not want me to have my fill, would your blood not taste bitter to my delicately lapping tongue?  I believe it would, and as your juices run down my arm from your no longer beating heart, I feel the stroke of your own caress given back to me even in death.

This is how I know of your love for me.

You would sacrifice so much that I may sate myself upon you.  Did you know of this sacrifice from the onset? No, you did not – but it would not have mattered, you loved me, you would have given me all that I asked of you.  You sought me out; you first approached me; you pressed your body to mine in offering.  You honor me with the one thing that you can now never give to another; and I shall not be wasteful of your gift, no my darling – I shall not waste what a delicious fawn such as yourself has given me.

A few more tentative licks while your blood still trickles… how I loathe to abandon this moment we have shared together; this adoration of the tender and fragile life you have given me. But our moment has passed my sweetness, and now there is but one way to keep you forever.

I wish to tell you that you will always be a part of me.  I wish to explain the joy I shall feel as I sink my teeth into your delicious heart and consume it so that we may always be together.  I wish you to know the pleasure that lavishing in your beautifully torn apart carcass will bring me while I lick you clean.  I wish I could have eased your fear by letting you know how I shall treat your now empty body; that I shall treat it with more respect by cleaning it with my own mouth than any other creature could have treated it in this short, yet exquisite life you have just left.  But I can not… nor could I have told you of these things before our euphoria, for it would have stolen the magic from the moment and ruined what we shared.

Such is the existence of a lover such as I; to find a perfectly bloomed flower only to pluck it and watch it whither… then again, who does not do such a thing – and who better to honor this tradition than the Angels themselves.

© Copyright 2012 Nina D’Arcangela. All Rights Reserved.

Shallow Drifting

Shallow drifting on purple dreams, sliding into darker shadows. My hair spread about me like a crown floating on the water. Your eyes glittering in the moonlight. My hand caresses, you nuzzle my shimmering wings. Warmth, loving, caring; the sweetness tinges our midnight breeze.

Your gaze steady, hand gently pressing upon my throat. Wavering visions of you, tears falling in silence. A final sigh. My hair spread about me like a crown. Your eyes now glistening in the moonlight.

Shallow drifting on purple dreams, sliding into darker shadows.

© Copyright 2013 Nina D’Arcangela. All Rights Reserved.


I sit here sipping from my glass, a fine glass at that; delicate in nature, with spinning hues of barest midnight blue drawn through its perfect surface, creating an undulating wave of confused beauty. Beauty; I look at the cavern around me, the carved seat I rest upon, my enclave, my domain, my perfect world. Things of beauty surround me, but only at my beck and call. True, some have come crawling, but I find I’ve no use for such sniveling. They – are no longer amongst us. Is there not a creature worthy of my attentiveness? Ordering one of the grovlings to fetch me a new pet, I wait with little patience.

Finally, she is brought before me. “Kneel.” There is no question she will do as instructed, they all do. I toss a collar onto the floor, it is attached to a leash fastened to the arm of my perch. “Put it on.” She begins to speak.

“I do not recall telling you to open your lips. Put it on, and do so with your mouth shut!” She scrambles to do as ordered, but the idiot grovling has yet to release her from the crude looped choker used to drag her here. A glance at the grovling and he realizes his folly. He apologizes profusely, trying to loosen the choker as she desperately tries to fasten the collar around her bleeding neck with shaking hands. I let him babble, his stupidity is quite amusing, then I bore of hearing it. Standing, I descend the two steps that separate myself from the others. She shivers uncontrollably as I pass by. He drops to a knee while still begging forgiveness for his lack of foresight. Foolish, that. The assumption that he’s been given the right to foreshadow my thoughts or wishes, a mistake I would not have made had I been in his position. Crouching in front of him, my wing tips curling against the stone floor, I order him to lift his chin. As he does so, he pisses himself. Glancing down to the puddle growing beneath him, I gently tap the edge of the glass against the floor. It fractures magnificently.

“Do you recall when this glass was made for me, grovling?” Desperately, he tries to hold my eye, but cannot. His own orbs flick quickly to the glass, I smile. He opens his mouth to respond and I shush him with a gentle, garnet adorned finger upon his lips. “My question did not require an answer, or did your foresight fail you yet again?” Trembling with indecision, he is unsure if a response is expected. I’m of the opinion it is not, but I’ll allow his inner torment to continue a bit longer. The jingling to my right finally stops; she has managed to fasten the collar around her neck. I hear a slight tinkling, the metal chain leading from the collar back to the leashed handle affixed to my seat; she is frightened, but doing admirably well – so far.

Waiting is the sweetest torture, one my many eons in this festering shit hole has taught me well how to exploit. The grovling on the other hand, is finding the wait – arduous. I can sense his overwhelming desire to speak; I can see the thoughts flick through his feeble little mind. Dragging the now jagged edge of the glass through his own urine, I provoke him. “It must be so difficult kneeling before me, wanting to speak your mind, but knowing you probably should not. I almost feel compassion for you, honestly, I almost do. Was being obedient and keeping your mouth shut so very hard that you simply found yourself incapable of the task?” His lips part, bait taken. If I were a sport fisherman, this is the point at which I would yank the line, one quick hard pull to set my hook. In what is a blink in his world, I ram the piss covered broken glass through his eye socket clean into his brain cavity. The ickor that oozes into the glass is proof enough that his brief squeal will be his final utterance.

I turn to the captive beside me, realizing that the grovling’s piss has spread to her knees. Retrieving the handle of the leash, I gently guide her to the hot spring welling in the far corner of the cavern. “Come, let’s clean you, then we shall figure out what purpose you might serve.”

(…more on this piece as other letters crop up…)

© Copyright 2013 Nina D’Arcangela. All Rights Reserved.

I’m doing the 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge! Pop back everyday but Sunday through the month of April for a new letter prompt to spawn my deranged ramblings! ;}

An Offer

My latest post on Pen of the Damned
December 4, 2012

Bending down in front of this fawn who has wandered far astray into a place she knows nothing of, I tip her head back, cupping her chin in my delicate hand as I gaze into the enormous glistening pools that serve as her eyes.

“An odd turn of phrase, wouldn’t you agree? I give you my heart.  How does one go about giving their heart away? If you were to give me your heart, you would become useless to me. A mass of tissue, cartilage, sinew, and bone pulsing with – nothing. And nothing is exactly what you would be worth. Do you wish to be worth no more than slop for the beasts to have their fill upon? Offering me your heart is a ridiculous thought. Besides, what makes you think I would allow you to give what I could so easily take if I chose it?”

A tinge of fear seeps into her eyes, her creamy throat swallows a hard lump, I release her but do not rise.

“Perhaps what you mean to say is that you offer me your unconditional devotion. Yes? Ah, now this I understand. This has a place in my world, this I can make fair use of. You proffer yourself before me and offer fidelity by choice. There is great value to be extracted from such a deed, unlike the sickeningly tender gesture of giving away your heart. A fool’s notion that. But you are a foolish creature, are you not?”

Her eyes shimmer, and I pace several steps away to allow the searing warmth of the sunlight to penetrate the chill I constantly feel radiating from within. This one, she affects me… After a moment of silent contemplation, I turn back to her. Our gazes locked once more, she still on her knees, me standing above her – as it would always rightfully be.

“Should I choose to make you my pet? Allow you to exist only on a whim? To please me when I see fit, perform for my enjoyment? Or perhaps even allow you the coveted honor of prostrating yourself at my feet for all to see; recognition of what an obedient thing you have become. Or should I simply accept your heart here and now, ending what will surely be an eternity of anguish for you?”

Circling her kneeling form, I allow my hand to trail through her mane of flaxen hair. It glistens so enticingly in the brightness of the day. The feel, that of swirling one’s hand through warm buttermilk; the scent, Anise. Delicious. Too delicious. Fisting a clump of this glorious silk in my hand, I yank her head backwards, redirecting her gaze to mine once more. A small squeal uttered, her hands fly up in a futile attempt to alleviate the pain I am causing her. My stare unwavering, she slowly lowers her arms to her lap once more.

“Do not expect to receive the abundance afforded my loyal servants, I have broken them! They have not groveled their way into my good graces. They have earned their allowance, their right to breathe for as long as I deem it useful. Unlike you my soft lovely dove, they have withstood a trial of pain and torment that you could not begin to fathom; and they have lived – if life is what you wish to call it. But you, you have earned nothing more than my attention with your soft curves and deep somber eyes. When I no longer find amusement in your attentions, then perhaps you will give me your heart as initially intended.”

Fear radiates from those bottomless orbs as they now watch me with trepidation, fear, and, of all things – judgment. Snarling, I release her head more roughly than intended and move to stand before her once more, bellowing at her audacity in a harsh ugly tone.

“This frightens you? My apologies! I don’t see why it should. You served the opening volley; you began this bid for my affection with your profferance of dedication to ‘my wants, my needs, and dare I say it – my most sacred desires’. Yes, I am mocking you and your attempt at securing my affection! Ah, I see you understand the spark of anger flashing behind my eyes, the couched venom spiting through my words, yet still you do not understand your own part in inciting me. This haughtiness of yours will need to be stripped bare if you are to be of any use at all. You are an ignorant animal, you know nothing of what I want, need or desire – yet you bear enough conceit to believe you stand any hope of satisfying me with your pathetic attempt at comprehension. Do you not see it? Do you still not understand who or what I am? No, I believe you do not!”

In a near frenzied pitch, I force myself to stop. She cowers before me, trembling, terrified by what now stands before her. Glancing down, I realize that my hands have begun to morph into clawed appendages; I can feel the second row of razor teeth beginning to protrude from my rending gums. The realization that this gentle creature before me is a far greater danger to my world than I initially thought decides her fate for me. Eyes brimming with tears, mine not hers, I crouch before this lovely timid thing, allowing my deformed talon to graze the soft flesh of her flushed cheek, and speak in a hushed tone.

“More’s the pity. I would have enjoyed the game, no matter how briefly it may have lasted.”

One more sweep through her luxurious hair, but my changing flesh is no longer capable of feeling its soothing texture.  I gently cradle the back of her head and pull her soft form against mine. Blinding rage engulfs me, the cold from within takes over. With a slow deliberate stroke, I open her from pelvis to throat with the pointed tail I have kept hidden all this while; being sure to take enough time to truly feel the pain this is causing her. A single tear tips from my shuttered eye and with it, the last pretense of my humanity is shed. Leathery clawed wings tear free of their flesh covered prison and enshroud us.

After what lives in me is sated, and I have consumed my fill, I rise, releasing her corpse to the beautiful grassy field where I have defiled her. The warmth of the sun no longer as tantalizing as it was earlier. Glancing back at her remains one last time, I allow those that serve me to clean the foul mess I have made.

One dares to catch my eye as if to pass its own judgment upon me. Weakness amongst my kind is unheard of, and not tolerated.

With a feeling akin to what I understand to be shame, I spit at the thing before me, “Provided I do not choose to slit your throat for the disloyal thought I see passing through your eyes, I’ll allow you to keep your life and you will keep your tongue as to what you have seen here this day!”

He has the nerve to grin at me. She was but a frail morsel; the darkness beating in the soul of this servile beast shall sate me fully. I believe I shall begin by allowing him to give me his heart.



Plunging, scooping, the sound of dirt sliding off each shovel with a shoosh as its tossed to the side. Another plunge, another scoop, more shoosh – the pile grows larger, the hole surrounding their boots grows deeper, the men grow more weary. The scent of dry dirt giving way to the earthier aroma of moist, dark soil.

Removing his cap and scratching his head, he asks, “‘Ere, guv, don’t you think this looks more than a bit odd?”

The other spits, digs, then replies, “Blood well is, son.”

Digging deeper, the dirt turning firmer, becoming more dense. Each shovel still plunging, a foot braced on the back lending force to the spade as it slides into hardened ground. Loose dirt scooped upon the belly of the trowel tossed above, to the side with a shoosh as it slips off the metal edge – the hole growing with each effort.

Removing his cap and wiping sweat from his brow, he says “Take a butcher’s. Tell me that ain’t too wide.”

The other spits, digs, then replies, “Blood well is, son.”

Tree roots tangle and snag, yet dig further they are told, so they do. No longer plunging, only scraping a hardened surface painted putrid with residue – ground now removed, the scent is strong, almost fetid, a pungent odor.

Removing his cap and squinting in the dim light, he says, “Weird innit? Strange that there ain’t nothin’ but wooden planks, eh, guv?”

The other spits, swings, then replies, “Blood well is, son.”

Hefting the crimson coated shovel over his shoulder, he glances at the body lying near his feet, takes in the breadth of the pit they’ve dug, then turns to the man standing above.

The other spits, stares, then says, “Ain’t fill in’ ‘er in.”

One pistol shot fired. “No, I believe not.”


This piece of flash fiction was featured in The Sirens Call eZine, issue 05. Given one photograph, both Kalla and I wrote a 300 word flash piece inspired by that image alone. Thanks to my warm blankie for the spit shine!

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