Ladies of Horror 2013

Ladies of Horror

2013

Presented By

LG Anthologies

Smashwords Edition

Ladies of Horror 2013

Copyright © 2013 by the individual authors, photographers and artists.

All rights reserved.

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This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. The authors are grateful for your appreciation of their work; however, as all proceeds from the sale of this book will be donated to their cause, if you would like to gift or share this eBook, please do so by purchasing an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the authors, and supporting The American Cancer Society.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner what so ever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

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Acknowledgments

We would like to thank: Jennifer L. Miller, for her pure drive and honest devotion. Elyse Draper, for her unmatched formatting skills, her deep well of knowledge concerning digital books, and her consummate support of the LGOH Anthologies. Erich A. Johnson for taking on a little extra work. And lastly, all of the Ladies who have affectionately contributed their hard work, without which, there would be no Ladies of Horror Annual Anthology at all.

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Content Warning

Due to the graphic nature and explicit sexual nature of some of the work contained within, we would like to warn our readers. We also do not recommend the following reading for anyone under 16 years of age.

Table of Contents

Foreword by Jennifer L. Miller

Hydra M. Star

~About Author

Elyse Draper

~About Author

Lindsey Beth Goddard

~About Author

Isaiyan Morrison

~About Author

Jane Timm Baxter

~About Author

Kerry Morgan

~About Author

Jennifer L. Miller

~About Author

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Ladies of Horror

2013

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Foreword

When I think of the word, horror, I think of names like, Poe, Shelly, Lovecraft, Rice and King; names of writers and poets, throughout history, who have brought a certain kind of elegance to the horror genre simply by sharing their incredible imaginations with the world using the written word.

H.P. Lovecraft said, The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown. Horror fiction is meant to elicit a response. Whether that response is emotional, psychological or physical, it’s meant to make you feel fear. There are books, movies, and music the world over dedicated to being scary.

The only problem is, each individual has a different view as to what is scary to them. You may find something utterly terrifying that only slightly creeps me out. Your friend might insist the new horror flick is the scariest movie ever filmed, but you watch it, and it kind of makes you laugh. And I could write a much longer introduction if we delved into phobias. One person’s clown is my spider.

Horror writers write, generally, what is scary to them. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, serial killers; we all have our own fears. These writers delve into the supernatural and the macabre, the terror of daily life, the sex and the gore, and come back up with tales meant to scare the living daylights out of you. Some stories will, and some won’t, it’s the nature of the beast.

When I began this anthology in 2008, my dream was to have a collection of horror that was visually stunning, full of beautifully written stories that stick with you for days or even weeks after you read them. We hit the mark then, and we hit it even closer this time.

I can’t thank the writers involved in this anthology enough (and I have, repeatedly, ask them). They have essentially donated not only their work, but their time and dedication to make this anthology simply amazing. Remember, all the proceeds will be donated to the American Cancer Society. All the work in this volume was lovingly written for that cause.

In your hands you hold some fantastic stories. There is poetry, flash fiction, short stories and long stories. There are ghosts, werewolves, vampires, zombies, and much, much more. Some will scare you, some will make you laugh, some will make you cry, but they are all, each and every one, remarkable.

I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I have.

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Candy, Blood, and Sex

By

Hydra M. Star

I know what everyone thinks of me, she said as she placed the cap back on the tube of red lipstick. The shade was her signature color and Scarlett was never without a tube. One in her purse, one on the bedside table, another in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and several unused tubes at the bottom of the make-up case that sat on the corner of her dresser; all of them the exact same deep shade of blood red. You think I’m damaged.

Do you feel damaged?

She returned the lipstick to her purse and pulled another cigarette out of the pack on the table. Leaning back in the uncomfortable wooden chair, causing it to creek softly, she lit the cigarette’s tip and took a deep drag before releasing her next words in a heavy cloud of smoke, I’m not damaged.

It would be okay if you were.

Scarlett took another drag of her cigarette. She wasn’t damaged and resented being thought of that way, but what could she do or say now to change that? Fate, it seemed, had decided long ago to cast her in the role of victim.

Autumn of 1989...

The leaves had started to turn, but it was still early enough in the season that the days were comfortable and the nights were bearable. James and Nancy both hoped that their little girl would be as won over by the wonderland that was the forest as they were and had carefully timed their trip, even making sure that the moon would be at its fullest and offer them nighttime light.

James and Nancy Little loved camping. In fact, the two of them had met and fallen in love during a college camping trip. James and a few of his fraternity brothers had decided to spend the first two weeks of their junior year summer vacation camping in the North Carolina Mountains. They all attended the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and the mountains were an affordable excursion for young men on tight budgets. Nancy was the best friend of a girl named Kara, who was dating one of the boys in James’s group. She and Kara, along with a handful of other girls, were invited to tag along. As a result, Nancy and James had met and hit it off from the very start. He helped her secure her things to the roof of the group’s van and from that moment forth it had been love. The pair were married a year and a half later and then a year after that, their first child was born, a daughter. They named her, Scarlett, after the lead character in Nancy’s favorite movie.

Baby Scarlett, who looked a bit like a chubby Vivien Leigh, was a happy and healthy child, with James’s black hair and Nancy’s dazing green eyes. She was just over three years old when the Little family took their first family camping trip, into the same mountains that had been the backdrop for the birth of James and Nancy’s love. They’d managed a similar three day jaunt four months before Scarlett’s birth and another, without her, when she was just over a year old. Nancy’s mother, Beverly, had kept the baby while the young couple got away for a couple of nights.

It was midday by the time the Little’s made camp. They found a small clearing just large enough for their tent and a fire near to the largest of the streams that cut through the center of the park. It would have normally been a challenge to get such a prime spot and also be separated by any meaningful distance from other campers, but the lateness in the camping season made this a lot easier. Everything was starting out as planned.

James decided to set up the large new four person tent they’d purchased new for the occasion up next to the trees, away from the water’s edge. Despite having practiced setting it up in their backyard the night before, he soon was having a bit of trouble and was getting very agitated. Nancy didn’t like it when he got into these sorts of moods and knew it would pass sooner if she just left him alone to sort everything out by himself. So, she called Scarlett to her and the two of them set off into the woods. They’d had lunch on the road and it was too early to start dinner, but it was exactly the right time to consider collecting the wood for the dinnertime fire.

Nancy carried a large open top backpack for the wood. She’d taken years before to this peculiar manner of totting wood, as opposed to doing so by hand, and on this day it proved a benefit. It more easily allowed Scarlett to help her and for her to keep the child in hand. For her part, the girl took surprising delight in sticking the broken limbs into the bag and it soon became a sort of game as she tried to find pieces that were long enough to stick up out of the top of the bag. In no time, the work was done and the pack was full.

Okay, pumpkin, let’s head on back. Daddy should be done with the tent by now and he’s probably getting hungry, aren’t you?

I’m not a pumpkin! Scarlett responded.

You’re my pumpkin, Nancy gave the girl a playful poke in the belly, My pretty, funny, little pumpkin.

Scarlett giggled, No, I’m not.

Okay, you’re not a pumpkin, Nancy gave the giggling toddler’s belly another poke, but you might turn into one if we don’t get back to camp soon.

They’d not penetrated the woods very deeply. There had been plenty of good sized, dry branches and twigs all about the forest floor. It had only been Scarlett’s enthusiasm to find longer branches that had taken the mother and daughter out of sight of James and the tent. They were, however, still within sight of the stream. Nancy could clearly see the sunlight glinting off of its rippling surface through the trees. They’d use it as their guide back to camp, but first Nancy guided Scarlett towards the water’s edge. They emerged once more from the trees beside the water. This gave Scarlett another chance to make up a new game to play.

Nancy made no fuss as the girl collected small pebbles from the water’s edge and then tossed them into the water. This took some time, mostly in the collecting, and slowed down their progress considerably, but Scarlett squealed with such delight at the plopping sounds the stones made as they broke the water’s surface that Nancy couldn’t bring herself to be anything but pleased, You want to do some fishing tomorrow morning, pumpkin?

She expected to hear ‘I’m not a pumpkin’, but instead Scarlett asked, What’s that mommy?

What’s what? Nancy was slow to turn back and slow to look towards the direction her daughter was staring, figuring she’d find that the girl’s eye had been caught by an unusual flower or dead fish.

That mommy, Scarlett pointed across to the other side of the water, What’s that?

Nancy’s eyes followed the gesture and came to rest upon an outcropping of rocks on the far bank. The trees on that side of the stream were much nearer to the water and with the sun behind them the area was in heavy shadow, but even so, she could clearly see there was a large figure moving up from the water towards the trees. Whoever, or whatever, it was stood upright, like a man, and was large and very dark. It was also moving very swiftly. The beast was gone before Nancy could speak or make out what it was.

Come along, Scarlett, she firmly took the girl’s still raised hand and pulled her away from the water. They were quicker now, in making their way back to camp.

So, you saw a bear? We are in the wilderness and they are common around here.

I don’t think it was a bear.

What else could it have been...bigfoot? James laughed.

Don’t make a joke of it, James! I didn’t get a good look at it is all I’m saying.

There are only two options, as I see it. It was either a bear or another camper. Either way, I don’t know why you’re so worried. Whatever it was, it was moving away from you.

I think it scared Scarlett.

James let out another round of laughter and pointed over to Scarlett, who was once more collecting rocks and tossing them into the water, Yeah, she looks real scared.

Nancy said nothing. She knew he was right. The tent was finally set up and it was time to start the fire for dinner, no time for moving camp. With a nod, she conceded defeat and started dinner.

That night, James and Nancy put Scarlett to bed earlier and drank hot buttered rum by the fire. The rum and a full belly did wonders to help Nancy to relax and forget about the animal on the distant shore. This would be the last evening the Little family would ever spend together.

On the following Monday morning, a trio of college students found young Scarlett wandering along one of the park’s many trails. She was covered in dirt, leaves, and dried blood that was not her own, but was otherwise in a fairly healthy condition, just a little hungry and dehydrated. It took the park rangers another day to find her parents.

What was left of James and Nancy was strewn around the now long dead campfire. The officers and county coroner all agreed it was an animal attack, likely a bear, an extremely savage and aggressive bear. Why little Scarlett had been left unharmed was both a mystery and a blessing. No one questioned it—too closely. The case was quickly closed and the park was reopened.

Scarlett went to live with her grandmother, Beverly.

Autumn of 2004...

It was three blocks from the bus stop to Scarlett’s grandmother’s house. Thanks to city planning and the area being designated a historic district, which didn’t allow for the old growth trees to be cut without permission, much of the way was shaded by a thick canopy of leaves during spring, summer, and the first part of autumn. The distant sounds of traffic and the occasional barking of neighborhood dogs kept the area from being quiet, but as city life went it was peaceful and a nice backdrop for a nice life.

Beverly Hood and her late husband had lived the whole of their lives in a small farming community in the eastern part of North Carolina, but she and Scarlett had moved to Charlotte not long after the deaths of Nancy and James. The older woman couldn’t bear the thought of raising her granddaughter in the same house where she’d raised the girl’s mother and, after what had happened to the little girl’s parents, she didn’t want her playing in the woods surrounding her old country home either. Naturally, when friends and other members of the small town had learned of Beverly’s plans to move to the biggest city their state had to offer they had been concerned. An aging woman and a young girl living alone in such a dangerous and unfriendly place would be easy picking for every ne’er-do-well the city was home to, but Beverly was less afraid of the big city and crime than she was of what might happen if another bear or wildcat happened upon her last living relative.

Scarlett, on the other hand, was afraid of nothing. She was eighteen years old and following in the footsteps of both her parents, in at least one way. In late August, she’d started her first year at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. The world lay open before her to do in it whatever she pleased and what pleased her at that very moment was getting back to the house to change for the Halloween party at Krista and Jenna’s house. She’d decided to go as a naughty nurse and hoped to find a handsome doctor to play surgery with. She’d figure out after the party how to break the news to her grandmother that she planned to move in with Krista and Jenna after the first of November. This and a math test, scheduled for the end of the following week, were the only troubles she knew. She remembered almost nothing about her parents or their final camping trip, vague memories of pebbles and sticks was all she had.

Beverly would protest the move. The university and Krista and Jenna’s house were neither one situated in the best part of the city and Scarlett would have to use the money she’d been saving to buy a car to pay her part of the rent. She’d be taking public transportation for at least another year, but she didn’t see this as a great hardship. Both her job and the school were within walking distance of Krista and Jenna’s house. It would all work out. She’d make her grandmother understand.

Scarlett took no notice of the man watching her as she made her way to her grandmother’s, with her freshly purchased custom in hand, but he was hidden quite well, standing as he was, between two of the neighboring houses across the street, beneath two closely planted trees.

Three weeks later...

It turned out Beverly was far more understanding regarding her granddaughter’s move than Scarlett had thought she’d be, though she was clearly saddened by it. Scarlett promised that she’d visit often. She’d visit so often it would be like she’d never left. It was a cliché, but the promise of seeing her grandchild often made the older woman happy, and Scarlett truly meant to keep her word.

Shifting both bags to one hand, Scarlett pulled her keys from her purse and let herself into the house. She was keeping her promise. She’d also stopped off for some fried chicken at her and her grandmother’s favorite place for it, before popping in for her sixth visit home in half as many weeks. The man who had watched her on Halloween day, weeks before, was nowhere in sight.

Grandma, I’m here, she called out as she entered, I stopped by the Bojangles’ and picked us up some dinner...and a jug tea.

There was no answer.

Placing the food on the dining room table, Scarlett stepped into the kitchen to get a couple of plates and glasses. Two of the cabinet doors, just off from and above the sink, stood open. Scarlett shook her head, grabbed down two plates and two glasses from the shelves, and shut the open cabinet doors.

You know, Grandma, it’s supposed to be you that has to tidy up behind me. This was a running joke between the two of them. Scarlett had always been the neat one, the orderly child that put away her toys and books when she was done playing. Beverly was more of a ‘free spirit’, as she often put it when Scarlett teased her about the little messes she left all over the house.

Scarlett returned to the table in silence and placed a glass and plate in front her and her grandmother’s usual seats. The food was starting to get cold. If you don’t want cold chicken, you need to come on and eat, she called.

There was still no answer.

Scarlett stopped what she was doing, leaving the chicken in the takeout boxes and the plates empty, and stepped into the living room. She looked around the usually occupied space for any sign that her grandmother was at home. Beverly’s house keys were lying in the large bowl in the middle of the coffee table, where she always left them. Her white Ford Focus sat in the driveway, which Scarlett could see through the large bay windows that took up most of the wall opposite the sofa. Her grandmother was home.

Perhaps she’d laid down for a nap, Scarlett thought. When they’d spoken by phone earlier in the day, the older woman had mentioned that she felt a bout of hay fever coming on. Maybe she’d taken some allergy medicine and laid down. With feelings of only mild concern creeping in, Scarlett moved in the direction of her grandmother’s bedroom.

The stillness of the house was beginning to unnerve her. Her grandmother had always been a light sleeper, waking several times throughout the night if a neighbor’s dog barked or a car door slammed anywhere on their street. She should have been up and out to greet her granddaughter the moment Scarlett’s keys jiggled in the front door’s lock. Something wasn’t right.

Without a word, Scarlett edged her way down the hall slowly, moving cautiously towards the slightly ajar master bedroom’s door at its other end. There was no light coming from the room beyond and an early autumn night was quickly falling over the surrounding city. The back part of the house, well away from the street lamps out front, was quickly growing dark. Scarlett flipped the switch for the hallway light as she passed it. The dim yellow glow it cast on the wood paneled walls did little to calm her growing nervousness.

She pushed the bedroom door open gently, Grandma? A large person shaped lump under the covers of her grandmother’s bed shifted ever so slightly, just enough for Scarlett’s eyes to catch the movement in the darkness. I’m turning on the light, Grandma. Watch your eyes. She flipped on the switch by the door. Nothing happened.