Forgotten Ones Read online

  “What do you want, Loki?” The woman in the doorway snapped, when she saw who stood on the path paved with broken skulls.

  Loki smiled when he looked at the half rotten face from which his daughter’s eyes looked at him. He took her hand, barely more than bones held together by bare sinews. A sigh escaped him when he realized that he must have been the first in centuries to have mastered the road of corpses. “Hella, dear,” he answered, “can a father not come to visit?”

  http://www.sandybutchers.com

  https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSandyButchers/

  Tales of the Moorlands

  K.B. Elijah

  There was a lost dog out on the moors, they said. Dark colour, coiled tail, looked like it was starving.

  Leith Maclean spent every second evening searching for it. Those who saw him trailing the moors with a packet of dog biscuits would smile, remembering how he'd taken in a whole nest of baby pigeons last Christmas, and the deer he'd nursed back to health after a hunting incident.

  But there was no one out on the night Leith went missing, the howls of the cù-sìth echoing over the lonely moors as it crunched down on his bones and flesh.

  Twitter: @KBElijah1

  Instagram: @k.b.elijah

  The Revenge of Loqi

  Jim Bates

  The griffin Loqi watched in horror as his beloved Glimpi tumbled through the air to the ground, an arrow through her golden eye. Down below he saw the shooter, a grizzled old shepherd. Loqi quickly gave chase, but the man ran for safety and hid in his caravan.

  Loqi circled high above, patiently waiting. Toward sunset the shepherd finally appeared. The griffin attacked, knocking him to the ground and digging his razor-sharp talons deep into the man’s chest. Blood streamed in torrents as the human pleaded to be spared.

  A vengeance-fueled Loqi didn’t care, and began feeding as the man screamed.

  www.theviewfromlonglake.wordpress.com

  Stupid Thing

  Gabriella Balcom

  Joseph tried to crush the small seps with his foot, but it slithered into nearby brush.

  “Stupid thing.” He bent, searching for it.

  Although the seps resembled an ordinary snake it wasn't; people had learned this the hard way for countless centuries.

  It darted forward, squirting venom into Joseph's face.

  As the corrosive substance ate away at his skin he screamed, frantically rubbing his cheeks.

  Flesh melted from his face in rivulets, revealing bone underneath. Then that, too, began dissolving.

  The seps sprayed Joseph again, more of him liquefying until only a puddle of ooze lay on the ground.

  https://m.facebook.com/GabriellaBalcom.lonestarauthor

  Seshat

  Kevin J. Kennedy

  They thought she was their scribe. They deemed her a note taker, a record keeper for superior gods. She created the alphabet and writing, yet they demoted her to the consort of Thoth.

  She understood the stars, but not only that - she felt them, could read them. She could see the future and had knowledge of the past, as well as a calculative mind.

  They underestimated her greatly. Knowledge is true power; wisdom is key, She bided her time. There was no rush, and when the time was right she vanquished the entire pantheon. She was the one true god.

  www.kevinjkennedy.co.uk

  Voodoo Priestess

  Kim Plasket

  I knew my field of study would lead me into depths unknown, but not to the end my life. I started out researching mystic, ancient Voodoo and its practices, and that was when I met the Hatian Priestess.

  She began to send gifts, and when a Voodoo Doll that looked like me arrived I knew it was bad. I woke up one morning filled with dread, and the last thing I saw was the face of the doll held in the hands of the Haitian Priestess.

  She smiled as she ripped the doll in half, and me along with it.

  https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B074YCLRCF

  Prometheus

  Mark Kodama

  The bald-headed vulture circles above. Its darting, soulless eyes forever staring, calculating, evaluating. Its caws, rasping like an ancient dinosaur’s, echo against the cliff walls. The scavenger lands on a rock, hungry yet cautious, waiting to rip through my flesh to feast again on my bloodied liver.

  I’m helpless. Arms stretched wide, chained to this crag by Zeus, king of the gods, for bringing fire to man. I cannot die, but can fear and feel pain. His putrid breath smells of vomit as his saliva drips onto my open wound.

  I am the titan Prometheus, forsaken by man and beast.

  Jostedalsrypa

  Tor-Anders Ulven

  My grandfather always told us we were descended from Jostedalsrypa, the sole survivor of the Black Plague in Jostedalen. The little girl whose fair skin was impossibly untouched by the ravages of the bubonic horror, while the dead lay in piles around her.

  “She made a deal,” he whispered ominously, “With Pesta herself. A plague in the hearts of her lineage in return for life.”

  I never believed him, of course. Superstitious nonsense, or so I thought.

  I woke up after my heart surgery to a hospital of the dead, bubonic pustules covering the hideous corpses littering the dark hallways.

  https://www.facebook.com/hyperobscure/

  https://www.reddit.com/user/hyperobscura

  I Am Ready

  Alex Steslow

  My ears twitch at the sound of rolling thunder as an unnatural, ichor cloud forms in the sky several miles away.

  It aggressively grows, traveling towards me and forcing guests of wind to lift my cloak and rip the hood from my head.

  The gods have become angry with me, seeking to exact their vengeance for my betrayal. I stole their strength for my own, rather then returning it as I should have.

  Power and light surge through my veins as I wait for their arrival. The gods are furious, and they will strike at me, but I am ready.

  Chased

  N.M. Brown

  Ah, men. Neat little creatures, aren’t they? I’ve lured dozens of them into my forest with the smallest hints of affection.

  A group of them are walking through the trees, the stupid humans carry torches for light even though the moon’s not risen yet.

  The largest of them walks over to me. I offer my hand for him to take, batting my eyes provocatively.

  He accepts, twirling me aggressively and ripping the back of my dress.

  “See?” He booms, yanking my tail. “A Huldra!”

  They cheer as the bark on my back catches flame.

  I just barely escape their grasp.

  Guardian of Tartarus

  Zoey Xolton

  “A gift for you, my love," said Hades. The king of the Underworld’s smile was a thin, dark line, but there was a gleeful, infernal light that danced behind his ancient, golden eyes. Sipping from his chalice of ambrosia he watched his newest creation bound to and fro.

  “I simply adore him!” said Persephone, his queen. “I think I’ll name him Cerberus!”

  Persephone petted each one of the hound’s heads, before throwing three severed arms in rapid succession. The beast raced after them, tearing each asunder with bloody vigour.

  “When he grows he will make a fearsome guardian of Tartarus.”

  www.zoeyxolton.com

  The Ice Was So Thin Under the Snow

  C. Marry Hultman

  Careful not to slip I entered the Castle of Ice. I hoped to find answers, but I was too late. Liquified snow covered the ancient floor, and atop a thawing throne towered great Anguta, his daughter's mutilated body splayed before him.

  "You are too late," he intoned, eyes cold. “This world will soon be no more, and I have sent my brothers, sisters and kin to Adlivun. Soon I will follow.”

  "But why?" I asked.

  "Did you not think you had to care for this world?" Anguta hung his head in mourning. "We gave them everything, and you destroyed it."

  https://wisconsinnoir.wixsite.com/wi />
  Twisting Soil

  Thomas Wake

  Laughter, campfire reflected on the calm waters by an Irish lake. Marshmallows and sausages, hugs and deep kisses.

  The forest floor breaks. Happy sounds are replaced by screaming, the creaking of trees and the undulating of the forest floor. Shapes in the shadows of the forest run with fear-granted speed.

  A man tumbles over, the soil wrapping around him ferociously and mercilessly as he is eaten alive by the Earth. The woman does not stop, her steps carried by dread and horror.

  She releases a lugubrious wail and falls, her eyes rising to see the Horned God.

  The hunt begins.

  https://twitter.com/ThomasWake12

  Fermata

  Jess Rhodes

  Something stalks Orpheus. Its breath clings, rank and humid, to the nape of his neck. He can’t look. To look is to lose her.

  But Eurydice doesn’t have claws that clack a haunting beat, nor scales that grind against unhewn stone. She doesn’t stink of rot and iron.

  His stalker moans, the sound rasping against his skull. His Eurydice’s voice is a soaring, sweet flute. He imagines fangs ripping into her soft throat. The claws and scales are muffled now, slick with her blood. Louder, closer. Something hot drips onto his neck. A bony talon grasps his shoulder.

  Orpheus looks.

  Twitter @dead_end_rhodes

  The Ritual of Amon

  Michael D. Nadeau

  The rhythmic beat of the drums would’ve been soothing, if she weren’t tied to a stone slab in the forest. Or anywhere else for that matter, she thought.

  Her roommate had invited her to a party, celebrating the moon or something, and as Amy tagged along little did she know that she was the guest of honor.

  They were trying to summon someone called Amon, and she couldn’t get free. The knife gleamed in the darkness as it rose above her, ready for blood.

  Maybe Amon will save me if I ask nicely, she thought.

  The darkness answered.

  ...I might.

  https://karsisthebard.wordpress.com/

  Bytting

  Tor-Anders Ulven

  In the olden days they were called de underjordiske. Foul creatures living dreadful subterranean lives, envious of the fortuitous humans above. Once in a while they’d crawl to the surface, replacing a human infant with one of their own, offering the dark child a chance at a better life. Bytting, they’d call it. Disturbing, however unbelievable it may be.

  Yet I wonder…

  Whenever I watch my infant son sleeping I get a creeping suspicion that something isn’t right. Maybe it’s the look in his eyes, a crooked fingernail, something.

  I don’t want to hurt him, but can I risk it?

  https://www.facebook.com/hyperobscure/

  https://www.reddit.com/user/hyperobscura

  She of Seven Names

  Kathleen Halecki

  The newborn babe lies sleeping, unaware of the danger that lurks in the dark. There is no sound as She of Seven Names, Lamaštu, crawls up from the floor to leer down into the cot with her twisted lion’s face and pendulous breasts. The child recoils as blood-stained hands reach out to drag crooked talons over his skin, sinking them deep within his flesh.

  The mother wakens and instinctively draws her child closer to her, slipping the bronze amulet of Pazuzu around him and whispering urgent prayers of protection.

  The thwarted demon slinks away, searching the night for easier prey.

  Guardians of the Grave

  Derek Dunn

  Heavy footsteps beat the untrodden path, sending a cloud of dust into the still air. The graveyard had been undisturbed for centuries—until now. As Jerrick and his men raided the island, bodies shook in the ground below.

  The men paused at the stench of decay, forcing some to hurl a mess of mead and fish onto the overgrown tombs. Jerrick pressed forward, ready to unearth the forgotten treasures.

  But the Draugr would not relent.

  The undead creatures rose from the graves, crushing the intruders with brute strength until only Jerrick remained. The broad-shouldered man would make the perfect feast.

  Twitter: @DerekTDunn

  God of Gods

  Callum Pearce

  The God of Gods surveyed his subjects, and they stared back hungrily. For centuries they had circled him, each slithering closer to his throne. All of them dreamed of the day they would strike.

  Who would it be that would come for his crown, become the ruler of all? He watched, and waited.

  It was the first, and favourite, of his sons that dared. The one god he hadn't been watching.

  Bleeding from the throat, attacked from behind, he couldn't help but feel a little pride as he slumped off his throne and his son snatched the crown from his corpse.

  https://mobile.twitter.com/Aladdinsane79

  https://m.facebook.com/calmpeace13/

  Gravestone Anguish

  Mark Anthony Smith

  You can hear her anguish from the dark, attic window if you pass the cemetery at night. She screams like an animal. I can hear her hooves on the wooden floor. She paces, lashing out at the locked door.

  Imelda no longer recognizes me with those demonic eyes. I long to return my wife to her former self, to the lover before I dabbled.

  Creep at night, around the cold stones of the dead, and you'll hear something to melt your marrow. Her goatish gait paces until the darkest hour, then she'll break free and I shall conjure no more.

  Twitter: @MarkAnthonySm16

  Facebook: Mark Anthony Smith- Author

  Icarus and the Minotaur

  Noa Covo

  Brothers, raised in the womb of the Labyrinth as living punishments. Deformed sons from genius men that tricked their way to divinity, sentencing their sons to monstrosity.

  Daedalus rescues Icarus from the Labyrinth, leaving the Minotaur to die.

  With the sun in his face Icarus understands how this must go. He is not better than the bull-headed boy, who died at the hands of a prince.

  Icarus will die at no hand but his own.

  When he climbs high into the sky the feathers join his skin, and once again his father has created something that will haunt him forever.

  Twitter @covo_noa

  Demon Mbwiri

  Drew Starling

  The fetish priest walked into the hut. He gazed at the boy, lying in the dirt. The child’s eyes were white, his mouth open, his blood tainted. The boy’s mother held him and wept.

  “Please, save my son!”

  The boy released a scream not from this world, his body suddenly whipping and flipping.

  The priest knew this boy had been taken, his soul compromised. The demon Mbwiri had come right in. He reached behind his back and gathered the blade. He cut the child open and watched his life spill out.

  “There,” said the fetish priest, “I have saved him.”

  Twitter: @ScaryStarling

  The Wrong Neighborhood

  Kimberly Rei

  The routine spacewalk from Station Epsilon had gone smoothly. Two engineers, half a dozen repairs, one minor scare. Dropping a tool shouldn't cause distress, and chasing after it was certainly a poor choice, but the engineer was tethered. Once his partner stopped laughing, he was rescued.

  Everyone enjoyed a good chuckle when the poor man spoke of an invisible hand swatting the screwdriver out of his grip, so he hid the bruise forming across his fingers. He hid the memory of the voice in his ear, mocking, and he hid the previous team's log of a restless god seeking worshipers.

  http://tales.studiorei.org/

  Shelter

  Elizabeth Nettleton

  “You’re a troll,” she cried.

  “You’re lost,” I replied.

  The rain clung to her tunic, heavy against her skin. She glanced behind her, and back at me, unsure. My candle flickered, painting shadows on the cave walls.

  Her hands trembled, recalling storybooks and nightmares about my kind. But this storm
was fiercer than any dream, so she stepped toward me.

  “May I take shelter here?”

  I acceded with a smile. Leading her deeper into the mountain, darkness greeted us with a kiss.

  Then I curled my knotted hand around her throat.

  “Why?” she gasped, clawing at her neck.

  “Why not?”

  Twitter: @ElizabethNett18

  https://elizabeth-nettleton.webnode.com/

  Light As A Feather

  Melody Grace

  Light as a feather, stiff as a board.

  This was a ritual that was long adored.

  Until the night the board would break,

  Along with the life of our dear classmate.

  We gathered around, hands held out,

  Shouting the words as she lay without doubt.

  That’s when the demon appeared in the dark,

  Fingers like knives as he reached for her heart.

  She tried to scream, but it was to no avail.

  Her heart dropped below the feather on the scale.

  The life faded from her eyes as he took her soul.