Meat Monster

The fleshy carcass emerges from the oven with ill intent in its heart. What was once a peaceful, feeling, sentient creature is now sliced and glazed in a glass casserole dish. The gluttonous desire of the would-be cannibals turns to terror upon seeing the monster they have crafted. The violent nature of their death at the hands of their once victim will pale in comparison to the guilt that will weigh down their souls as they pass on to whatever eternity they might have waiting for them on the other side.

At least that's how a vegan imagines it.

Cirque Du Silly

One summer, I went to Circus Camp. As an acrobat, I was overcome by terror, lost my grip on the trapeze, and plunged into the net before my partner could grab my ankles. Animals hated me. The dancing horse tried to bite me, and the performing poodles peed on my shoes. I looked hilarious in clown makeup, but my timing was terrible, and I was trampled while exiting the tiny car. I tried juggling and hit myself in the face with the balls. Fortunately, the camp staff were brilliant photographers; the shots they posted on Instagram made my family proud.

From Guest Contributor R.K. West

The Man Who Loved Bears

Bob was excited. His new coworkers had planned a birthday surprise. It was slightly strange they'd gone through the trouble of learning what he liked, blindfolding him, and driving him to a secret location when he'd only joined the team two weeks ago, but he he'd taken the job because of their excellent HR record. He was already impressed by their enthusiasm for team building activities.

"Okay, you can remove your blindfold."

Adjusting his eyes to the light, Bob jumped in terror. He was locked in a cage with a massive grizzly bear.

"I said I liked beer, not bears!"

Nameless Here Forever

Something in the manner the June sun slants through my bedroom window sears my heart.

It burns through, red-hot, singeing its muscles and sinews but not its memories.

For it was on a blistering day like this that terror, treachery, vengeance and death engulfed.

A whirling hate storm, sowed by unknown faces in unknown places, which ravaged my known.

We could neither resist nor understand these demons who killed without remorse.

Who left us with our dead, the dregs of our lives and nameless here forever.

My homecoming, ten years hence, brings deep summer sadness, which will remain within forever.

From Guest Contributor Chitra Gopalakrishnan

Amusement Parked

One day city visit. While parents shopped around, brother and I went to an amusement park.

We knew what we wanted to ride. Had to first go past bumping cars, carousels and the like in the kiddie section. When I spotted the roller coaster in the distance, we ran for it.

One of the biggest, a newscaster once said. The TV screen showed riders gripped with terror, rolling down in lightning speed, screaming all the way. Adrenaline rush for sure.

“Sorry, kiddos,” an attendant hollered. “Closed down for maintenance. Should be running in a day or two.”

We weren’t amused.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction regardless of the season, although she prefers spring.

Giant

The giant came over the hills, his axe as lengthy as the oak trees in the playground stumbled upon. Amid the outrage and terror, someone called the mayor. The police put their hands to their guns, waiting.

The giant chopped down a tree first, carving it, whittling it down into the mayor’s likeness. This pleased the townsfolk, convinced them. They gave him cement, metal, wood, anything to build. “More, more,” they shouted as he built their buildings and streets.

He left as quickly as he came, taking only the axe. Maybe the next town, he thought, would be more welcoming. From Guest Contributor E. M. Foster

E. M. is a fiction writer from Florida. She is currently preparing for a Master's of Studies at the University of Cambridge, St. Edmund's. She is a reader for Farside Review and Sepia Journal and a writer for Coffee House Writers. Her work has been published in The Aurora Journal, Sledgehammer Lit, and others.

Escape

The gunshots up ahead are deafening. The screams, more so. I close my eyes and keep my mouth tightly shut to avoid crying out in terror.

My body begins to tremble when I hear rustling behind me. I am so frightened I can barely move.

A hand touches my shoulder. I know that gentleness.

“Come, my son, the way out is not far.”

Without speaking I follow my mother and she leads us to the river. A small boat is waiting for us.

She reaches for my hand, and we escape to a foreign country only to be trapped again.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Chicken

"Don't call me that," I, blue-in-the-face, scream at my grade school friend. The hallway is long and narrow, lit by one naked bulb, a beaded pull-chain hanging. I stand trembling at the edge of the basement stairs.

"Turn the light on, chicken."

The wall switch is to my left. Weeks ago, on a dare, I placed my hand on the switch plate to lift the lever. A jolt threw me down the flight of stairs. I landed feet first, hands crunched against the concrete wall.

Now I hover on the top step. Terror tight in my throat.

Ready or not.

From Guest Contributor Flo Gelo

You

Run.Feet crush the leaves; waves of terror crawl your spine.Slide.A tree – a savior! Red drops drip down from your ears to the ground.Crack!Terror returns like an old friend. It seems now is your end.Look.A challenge beckons you. Leaning around the bark, you peak into the clearing.Empty?Before you can contemplate, a hand wraps around your throat.“Missed me?”The version of yourself you keep locked away smirks at you.“I’m afraid of the dark.”The clearing dissipates as you are released.Clink!Chains now hold you down.“I don’t want to disappear.”

From Guest Contributor Sydney Clark

The Silence Of Space

Silence.

Complete silence filled his head.

A dark empty void encompassed him. Helpless, he hurdled in an endless tumble towards infinity. In the lonely darkness the unending quiet pulsed in his head. The terror of the inevitable quickly found his thoughts. Alone he fought to control his mind as he drifted aimlessly in space. His only partner the broken umbilical from the shuttle. The debris scattered around him a vivid reminder of the devastating meteor storm. An emergency alarm sounded though his visor. Fifteen minutes of oxygen left. His life now measured in minutes. Alone, he awaited his cruel fate.

From Guest Contributor Stephen Johnson