by Carol Stone
Larry loves labels. Especially those with fire hazard warnings on them. He likes to test the credibility of these cautions. It’s his job.
Today, Larry is checking the label in the nape of a blouse. It screams FLAMMABLE! His heart bounces.
He strikes a match, allows it to lick the lace trim around the edge of the fabric. Soon, furious dragon’s tongues eat their way up the garment.
The woman’s screams become distant. Larry is too consumed with the blistering pop of skin. But it’s the melting of her terrified eyes he’s waiting for.
That’s what really spikes Larry’s pulse.
Author bio: Live & work in the UK, previous publications include Alien Skin, Coloured Chalk amongst others but it's been a while since I last submitted.....so here goes!
Labels is part of 101 Fiction issue 10.
Showing posts with label Carol Stone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Carol Stone. Show all posts
Sunday, 6 December 2015
Sunday, 1 December 2013
Rising
by Carol Stone
By the lake's edge the boy stands, his flesh creeping along trembling bones at the horror before him.
Bodies drifting slowly to the frost-covered surface, grey waxy faces bearing blood-encrusted teeth. Ugly bulbous eyes pressed against the thinning ice, staring, flickering, watching him. They are human but less than human, dead yet not happy to lie peacefully in their watery grave.
And the winter sun casts its warming light, cracking, snapping, splintering the brittle glassy sheet. They fed on his father and soon they will rise to eat flesh once more, the flesh that creeps, his flesh.
He cannot run.
Author bio: I am a specialist nurse by day, aspiring writer by night (and at any other given opportunity especially when working a night shift or whilst enduring long pointless meetings). I love dogs, laughter, Turkish Delight, chocolate, laughter, books, films, red wine, laughter, cake & comedy. I hate pointless meetings, know-it-all's, pointless meetings, to-do lists, long pointless meetings, greed & boredom. I am renowned for being laid-back & for not taking life too seriously. I have previously been published in AlienSkin magazine & Colored Chalk. My dream is to be the next Stephen King or Judi Dench, whichever comes first.
By the lake's edge the boy stands, his flesh creeping along trembling bones at the horror before him.
Bodies drifting slowly to the frost-covered surface, grey waxy faces bearing blood-encrusted teeth. Ugly bulbous eyes pressed against the thinning ice, staring, flickering, watching him. They are human but less than human, dead yet not happy to lie peacefully in their watery grave.
And the winter sun casts its warming light, cracking, snapping, splintering the brittle glassy sheet. They fed on his father and soon they will rise to eat flesh once more, the flesh that creeps, his flesh.
He cannot run.
Author bio: I am a specialist nurse by day, aspiring writer by night (and at any other given opportunity especially when working a night shift or whilst enduring long pointless meetings). I love dogs, laughter, Turkish Delight, chocolate, laughter, books, films, red wine, laughter, cake & comedy. I hate pointless meetings, know-it-all's, pointless meetings, to-do lists, long pointless meetings, greed & boredom. I am renowned for being laid-back & for not taking life too seriously. I have previously been published in AlienSkin magazine & Colored Chalk. My dream is to be the next Stephen King or Judi Dench, whichever comes first.
Rising is part of 101 Fiction issue 2.
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