fbpx
Drabblecast Covers Collage 2018 01

Category: Horror (Page 7 of 23)

Drabblecast B-Sides 46 – The Hodag

May 15, 2014

Cover for Drabblecast B-sides 46, The Hodag, by Richard K. GreenI still remember that cold October afternoon in 1936 when Whitey McFarland’s old coonhound Maggie dragged herself out of the forest, whimpering and yowling. Her skin hung off her sides in red flaps and her eyes rolled wildly. She collapsed on the ground and howled.

All us kids loved Maggie, but not one of us dared go near her, not while she was baring her teeth and snarling. Benny Carper dropped the bat and ran off; Ira Schmidt just stood there staring at the half-dead animal as it pawed the frozen dirt. I tugged on Whitey’s sleeve and told him to stay with Maggie while I got my dad—Whitey’s dad was a drunk and never easy to find. When he finally nodded in understanding, I took off running.

Drabblecast 323 – Missed Connection

May 4, 2014

Cover for Drabblecast episode 323, Missed Connection, by Richard K. GreenLawson was already regretting the decision to go shopping by the time he was standing in line waiting to buy a ticket for the tube. All but one of the time- and labour-saving automatic ticket dispensers was either closed or unable to give change, and it was all he could do not to let out yelps of irritated despair at the inability of those in front of him to understand the process of getting the machine to yield up its wares. The station seemed to be unusually full of squalling children and jabbering mad people, and the flu which he’d thought in decline was thriving in the damp mildness of the winter afternoon. All in all he was beginning to feel like death cooled down, and he was barely on step one of the afternoon.

Drabblecast B-Sides 45 – Buried Talents

May 4, 2014

Cover for Drabblecast B-Sides episode 45, Buried Talents, by Bo KaierA man in a wrinkled, black suit entered the fairgrounds. He was tall and lean, his skin the color of drying leather. He wore a faded sport shirt underneath his suit coat, white with yellow stripes. His hair was black and greasy, parted in the middle and brushed back flat on each side. His eyes were pale blue. There was no expression on his face. It was a hundred and two degrees in the sun but he was not perspiring.

Drabblecast 321 – The Goat Cutter

April 19, 2014

Cover for Drabblecast episode 321, The Goat Cutter, by Rafal HrynkiewiczThe devil lives in Houston by the ship channel in a high-rise apartment fifty-seven stories up. They say he’s got cowhide sofas and a pinball machine and a telescope in there that can see past the oil refineries and across Pasadena all the way to the Pope in Rome and on to where them Arabs pray to that big black stone.

 

 

 

Read More

Drabblecast B-Sides 39 – Becca at the End of the World

February 8, 2014

Cover for Drabblecast B-Sides 39, Becca at the End of the World, by Forrest WarnerI nestle the video camera on its makeshift tripod, carefully centering my daughter’s image. She tucks her hair behind her ear and gives a strained smile. She is sixteen, and that hair is long and golden–kissed light brown and straight; she has the gangly grace only teenagers have, that sleek gazelle form. She is wearing khaki shorts and a striped tank top, and the bite mark on her arm is already putrefying.

Drabblecast B-Sides 37 – Parasite

January 27, 2014

Cover for Drabblecast B-Sides 37, Parasite, by Spencer BinghamThere was a black, one-way window between me and my father, watching my interrogation. I imagined he was looking down at me with the rest of the generals on the second story. Their room looked down into empty cement room where I sat, alone, on a white chair, watching a black video screen. The decision to move them to another floor had been made recently after one of their interrogations became violent. That is, the person being interrogated became violent.

Drabblecast 306 – Trifecta XXVI

December 17, 2013

Cover for Drabblecast 306, Trifecta XXVI, by Gino MorettoWhile sipping my tea in the morning, I find a small, only two inches long, naked female corpse on the bottom of the cup. Her white skin fades int the white porcelain, tiny gobs of tea leafs cover her round breasts. I immediately slap the cup down, and snick across to the phone to call the police. I forget all about checking if she’s really dead. Of course, how could I give her a mouth to mouth resuscitation, if not? Her body is about the size of a match-stick.

 

 

Read More

Page 7 of 23