Did you know one of the most prolific serial killers in history was a woman? Elizabeth Báthory was said to have killed as many as 600 people, many of them young women, in whose blood she bathed to grant herself eternal youth.
I can only hope that didn’t work the way she hoped.
Anyway, here’s a story inspired by this rather grim beauty ritual.
Eating the poor didn’t work.
No matter how much proletariat puree her guests consumed, The Duchess heard, saw, felt the rumble of hordes of common folk rushing all around her gates. No matter how many her guards slaughtered, the masses always returned.
Her doctor unleashed a plague. It rendered the meat inedible, the stench unbearable, yet would not reduce the population.
Every woman she saw stumbled around, pregnant with multitudes. Every man panted in a virile haze. Children aged before her eyes. Every face was too familiar.
She’d spent years bathing in blood. Now the victims were back for hers.
I’ve often said that I’d like the end-goal of my career choices to have me as some kind of android overseer ensuring the success of our future Mars colonization efforts.
Barring that, I’ll just keep writing stories about Mars colonies.
Mars signed and ratified the document. Earth refused to listen.
“All the self-sustaining colonies on your planet don’t change the fact that ours is the sovereign.” President Mitchell Hansen glared at Oversee Ward over a video call. “You obey the home planet.”
“Or?” Ward casually glanced to his side.
“Or we impose rule by force. You will obey. Expect our soldiers.”
The call ended. Ward turned to his peoples’ newest allies. They respected Ward. They liked the Mars dwellers. They chittered, massive, their many arms skilled at burrowing and ravaging. They could eat humans whole.
Ward smiled. “Hope you’re hungry.”
I’ve always had this weird obsession with mirrors. Hope it doesn’t do me in one day…
Until then, here’s a story. Be sure to like and share!
Since Penny’s death, Jacinta has broken every mirror she’s seen. She has to. Every so often, Penny’s there, looking back. A smile. A wink. A nod to say, I see you seeing me.
They called it a game. There’s no winning when you mess with stuff like this.
Penny wound up with her neck broken at the bottom of her stairs. The paper wrote it off, saying she fell, drunk.
Jacinta’s dad did the autopsy. The girl broke her own neck, then fell.
Whenever it’s around, the reflection moves, commanding her from within the glass, playing with her.
This story is for a friend of mine who spends way too much time playing Overwatch.
Hope you enjoy it! Be sure to like and share if you do.
Mac set turrets, camping on the payload. Apparently, no one else on his team wanted to complete the objective.
“Let’s go, assholes!” He shouted into his microphone, voice filling his basement as he stared into virtual reality. “We have a mission, remember?”
He looked around: the others had vanished. His character could no longer move.
The payload began creeping along its track, carrying him to an incinerator.
“What the hell?”
The fire approached. He felt the heat on his skin. Hairs burned off his arms.
Screaming, he tried to take the headset off. He never got the chance.
Here’s a more experimental piece. I don’t usually write in the 2nd person, so be sure to let me know if you like this one in the comments!
The shop on 34th isn’t one you go to by accident. It’s not a place you go to, ever. This is where you go when there’s no hope left for the tangled mess on your head.
It works like this. In your most vain hour, staring through tears into a smashed mirror, your reflection whispers the phone number. You call. You make an appointment.
At the appointed time, you arrive, neither late nor early. A stylist who’s face you can’t quite see makes you beautiful again.
Your payment: hearing whispers from your hair. Some are innocent, some atrocious.
When the biological clock starts tickin’, your time’s up.
If God floated down and said she’d be going straight to Hell, Maria wouldn’t have been nearly as upset as she’d been by that one word.
She tried fostering.
“We’re sorry. Single parent homes just aren’t the ideal environment.”
Her body, her mind, her whole life ached for company to watch over. Then it hit her.
God didn’t want her to have kids. Maybe somebody else had a solution.
She rifled through tomes, spoke dead words in dead hours, and finally opened the door into herself.
Maria stared the world down with obsidian eyes.
She’d never be alone again.
If you’ve ever worked retail or food service, you know all about the pressure to keep customers happy.
If you can’t do that, maybe you can just keep them quiet…
Employee of the Month
Daniel wiped blood off his shoes.
Mopping floors hadn’t been in his job description, but he wouldn’t tolerate any complaints.
“Filthy morons,” he whispered, hoping his customers’ ghosts would hear. “This wouldn’t happen if you just stay quiet.”
He couldn’t believe how easy it was.
Get me your manager!
I’ll take you to her.
Take them into the back, where he spent all day carving meat anyway, then…
He smiled as Julianna approached. His manager looked him over.
“Danny, you’ve been great, but I’m sorry. We’re letting you go. You have a bad attitude.”
His eye began to twitch.