Tag Archives: writing

October 26, 2014

Whump – Coffin Hop 2014 | #horror #COFFINHOP @coffinhop @Sotet_Angyal

Whump

The first sound I heard was the whup-whup of its wings; I could feel the pressure of the air pressing down upon me as the beast beat a steady rhythm above. I was being dragged toward it, dragged through a field of claws that scraped my skin, tore my clothes; ripped apart my mind. Whatever was dragging me had a firm grip upon my backpack and was grunting while it ran in a lumbering lurch. Fleshed in red, with pieces of luminous crystal protruding from its bark-like skin, something about it seemed familiar, but I couldn’t imagine why.

As we drew closer, creatures rushed from the dragon’s gaping maw, they hefted its green tongue, carried it aloft.

The thing dragging me halted. The others tried to grab me with their talons, lift me onto the dragon’s tongue. In my mind, I struggled; the entire time the whup-whup of the wings blinded me with coarse pellets carried on its breath. I was in the midst of an inferno. As I looked around, I saw flames licking the edges of this new hell. The dragon fought its foe with mighty plumes of spray. The others rolled my limp form onto its side. The familiar one spoke, a glistening madness in its eyes as I rolled backward by no choice of my own and landed on the wyvern’s tongue.

Its rasping texture stung my flesh as it tasted my blood, molded to my form, began drawing me toward its maw. The beast’s minions trotted alongside, assisting the tongue as it serpentined its way back to its host. The closer we drew, the fouler the dragon’s breath became, until finally I was consumed through the yawning rift.

The beast took to the air. I could feel the rock and sway from within the cavern of its gullet. More creatures waited there; they began to pull me apart. They delved with their translucent hands into my gut, only to emerge covered in blood. I fought them with what will I had, but it was futile – one of their young smothered my face, pulsing noxious fumes into my lungs. When eventually they finished, all but one sat in stony silence. The attending creature looked down at me and spoke through some odd contraption it wore on its glistening face. It grasped my hand, spoke with a force I couldn’t deny, but force or not, I didn’t understand its words. My head lulled to the side drawn by the ever present whup-whup of the air as the wings continued to beat. As I began to lose consciousness, I saw a slit in its scales; an opening. With all that was left in me, I flung myself toward the fissure. The creature lost its grip upon my hand.

As darkness stole over me, my final sensation was one of falling.

Coffin Hop Goodies!

How do you get them? Comment on my Coffin Hop 2014 posts on this blog – I’m posting something new each day, so keep coming back for more chances to win. When will they be announced? When the hop ends (after October 31st). What are they going to be? A surprise! I like surprises, don’t you? ;}

Don’t forget to visit my other two blogs that are participating:
Spreading the Writer’s Word
The Road to Nowhere…

and the Sirens Call Publications blog:
The Sirens Song

Plus all the other amazing hoppers!
Coffin Hop

11 Comments | tags: Coffin Hop 2014, CoffinHop, fiction, horror, Nina D'Arcangela, story, Whump, writing | posted in Author, Coffin Hop 2014, Flash Fiction, Horror, Story, twisted, Writing

October 25, 2014

A Foul Day – Coffin Hop 2014 | #horror #COFFINHOP @coffinhop @Sotet_Angyal

By Nina D'Arcangela

A Foul Day

It moved! I swear on my mother’s soul I saw it move! Glancing up, I scan the faces surrounding the table trying to determine if anyone else saw the jerking motion. No one seems to have noticed; they’re all laughing and drinking, chattering away happily while waiting to be fed. I blink a few times to clear my eyes. I’ve been working too hard lately, putting in too many hours, that’s all. I raise the carving knife and fork, once more preparing to plunge them into the bird trussed before me. It fucking moved again! This time with an accompanying slopping sound. A bead of sweat breaks out on my upper lip; my wife is staring at me hesitantly. With both hands now resting on either side of the beast, I take a few slow, deep breaths to calm my overwrought nerves. A slight nudge comes from my right. It’s my wife, a strained smile on her face; she nods toward the foul creature. I nod back. Bringing the arm with the fork up, I dab at the dew above my lip and make an off-hand comment about it being roasting in here. Everyone laughs. A small shake of my head, I exhale and raise the knife once again to begin slicing the meat. As the gleaming instruments near the platter, I hear a voice in my head. ‘Go on ya piss-ant piece of shit – cut me open. Show everyone what a big man you are and gut me. Gut me like you gutted your wife when the doctor told her your sperm are useless. Ya didn’t have the balls to stick it to your wife and knock her up, and you don’t have the balls to stick it to me either!’

What the fuck? My knees nearly buckle and my wife reaches out to steady me. I jerk my arm away. The room has grown quiet, the tension nearly palpable. I toss out another remark meant as a joke; the responding chortle is terse, fraught with unease. My wife is no longer smiling; she looks worried. I try to reassure her with a smile of my own, but a bare shake of her head lets me know she’s not buying it. ‘Ya do know she doesn’t have any faith in you anymore, right? She was expecting to marry a man, and look what she got – you! She knows about Terry, too,’ I almost utter a response. ‘Yeah, she’s known for the past month that you’re banging that bitch from work, she just doesn’t want to ruin the holidays for the family. Your ass is out of here as soon as the new year starts, buddy!’

Sure that I’m pale as a ghost, I lean on the table for support once more. My head hanging, limbs trembling; the nervous tick of the fork tapping against a glass the only sound in the nearly silent room. My wife reaches over again and lays a hand on my forearm. I lash out to shove her away, forgetting that I’m holding the carving knife with that hand. We stare at one another in shock for a heartbeat before her body crashes forward into the china on the table; her throat sliced ever so neatly from side to side. As the crimson of her blood mixes with the pumpkin colored hue of the tablecloth, a slight gurgling is all that resounds. I look on in horrified disbelief, then one of the children in the room lets out a horrified screech. The demon starts again, ‘Ha! Look what you…’ I begin stabbing it with the fork and maniacally chopping it to bits with the blade while screaming incoherently. Everyone in the room is looking at me like I’ve gone insane. I try to explain about the turkey… not realizing I was still holding the knife… the pressure I’ve been under… but there isn’t a sympathetic eye in the small gathering. ‘You know what you have to do, don’t ya? If you don’t, they’ll lock you back up in the loony bin again.’ An icy cold sheet of acceptance washes over me as I move to the doorway, blocking my wife’s teenage brother from escaping.

I was really hoping this family would be different, not like the last…

Coffin Hop Goodies!

Don’t forget to visit my other two blogs that are participating:
Spreading the Writer’s Word
The Road to Nowhere…

and the Sirens Call Publications blog:
The Sirens Song

Plus all the other amazing hoppers!
Coffin Hop

15 Comments | tags: A Foul Day, Coffin Hop 2014, CoffinHop, fiction, horror, Nina D'Arcangela, story, writing | posted in Author, Coffin Hop 2014, Flash Fiction, Horror, Story, twisted, Writing

October 24, 2014

Pop – Coffin Hop 2014 | #horror #COFFINHOP @coffinhop @Sotet_Angyal

By Nina D'Arcangela

Pop

With a growl that comes from deep within his chest, fury radiating from every pore of his being, he begins to froth. Using the chain wrapped around his arm and her throat, he raises her level with his eye. With the other hand, he snaps her right wrist between his forefinger and thumb. A slight groan escapes her before she can contain it. A smile begins to spread upon his face.

Cupping her ass with his free hand, he presses her body hard against his own, his want throbbing against her. He leans forward, whispers in her ear, “So you do feel. I’ve heard an angel is an extremely… erotic creature. Perhaps I have been going about your discipline all wrong.” He slowly licks her shoulder, her neck, the side of her face; he begins to boom with laughter – intent all too clear in his eyes.

She returns his slight smile as he runs a razor-sharp talon over her lips, tearing them to shreds. Blood begins to trickle down her chin; he laps it clean. She unfurls an obsidian wing; he stares at it in wanton lust. With lightning speed, she uses the tip to pluck his left eyeball from its socket. There is barely a moment of resistance as the muscles cling to the orbit before tearing away.

Screaming in agony, he releases her and she tumbles to the stone floor. Cupping his empty socket, he screams, “You whore!”

Lying on the floor, she begins laughing manically.

“You fucking whore! I’ll see you dead for this!”

Gently, she places the eyeball in her mouth, blood still oozing from her slashed lips. Through peals of laughter, she positions her new prize between her teeth. As he watches in horror, she smiles brightly and begins to chew.

Darting forward once more, her wing tip slams into his other eye with an audible pop, then carves it lengthwise with a single stroke. She leaves this orb in place to heal useless and deformed; a reminder of her for the days to come.

Rising to her feet, she walks toward the dais while flippantly asking, “You wish to see me dead, do you?” With a mirthless chuckle, she leans in and whispers, “I don’t think you’ll be seeing much of anything…”