I’d heard some strange tales on the prairie, but none quite as weird as the winds. There was an old man who lived out by dead oak pass, an old prospector. One night he showed up at my door, he was pale white. I brought him in and made him coffee, his eyes where wide and blood shot, his hands shanked slightly. It was some time till he spoke a whisper. At first it’s in the wind was all I could hear. What’s in the wind? The souls of the lost ones. In a raspy gasp, he said could I not hear them? I looked outside there was no noise, not even a breeze, I turned to him and asked him “when was the last time you slept?” His response was strange: “How could anyone sleep in this wind.” It happen rather quickly, he stood straight up and said “They’re here.” “Whose here?” I said. He pointed at the door and said, “There!” I looked at the door and in surprise it suddenly swung open as if a gust of wind blew it open, but there was no movement in the air. I turned to the old man and in terror saw what was happening to him. He was a full two feet above the floor, his long hair was in disarray as if he was in a wind, his face was consorted as if in pain, his eyes wide with fear. He slowly floated towards the door. I fell back on the floor in horror, it looked like he was in a whirlwind, his close were being torn off him, but the only air movement in the room were my quick breaths. He floated out the room and that was the last time I ever saw him.
(not my image, not sure who did this but great picture).
Filled with despair, Zanya walked to the edge of the rocky cliff. She stood there, looking down at the dark water, the light of the full moon reflecting off it. Her mind was cluttered, but she felt one moment of clarity when a voice whispered “let go.” She did just that, letting herself fall forward off the cliff and plunge into the abyss. Tentacles grabbed her, she could not fight if she wanted to, but she was not afraid. She allowed them to envelop her as they took her deeper. The pressure was becoming unbearable, but something wrapped around her, protecting her from it. She didn’t know how long she had been descending, or even if she was alive or dead. Zanya could still think and knew she was Zanya, but she knew nothing else.
Finally, the tentacles released her and placed her on…the ground? Yes, it was definitely a ground of some kind, she was no longer in water. Zanya laid still with her eyes closed, for how long she stayed that way she could not tell. She started to take inventory of her body. Something felt weird. Her skin felt…different. She moved her hands, and realized there was something between her fingers…webbing! Her toes too!
She opened her eyes, and everything was different. There was a sky and she was indeed on the ground. She was by the ocean but it was like nothing she’d ever seen…while awake. Zanya was home.
This is another flash fiction story I wrote. We used to write in our group on Facebook, and are about to start writing and sharing stories in there again. If you’re interested in writing fiction with us, check out our group on Facebook. We are also looking for Lovecraftian short fiction and art for publication. Please see our guidelines…
It had been a long journey and the Vikings were weary from their long ship ride. They were farther south than they had ever been. The weather was warm and sticky, and the water was a blue so crystal clear, they could see the fish swimming beside them.
Three days before they had seen a giant tentacle reach out of the water a mere three hundred feet from the ship. It created a great wave when it splashed back down into the abyss, nearly capsizing the ship into Davy Jones’ Locker. They were Vikings, they lived life on the sea and were used to such things. However, it was still a bit disconcerting.
The sight of the island was such a huge relief to the wary travelers. They were hungry and tired. When the ship came near the island, they noticed the people looked different than any they had ever seen. Not just the color of their skin, though that was a bit strange too. Like most islanders, they were dark skinned, but they had other strange tints. One man appeared to be almost green, one appeared bluish, and there was a woman that looked almost purple. It was their eyes, hands, and feet that most startled the seasoned Vikings. The eyes were huge, the hands and feet were webbed. It was like they were fish people. The Vikings weren’t sure if they were seeing things or what. They said nothing of it, but took note of it. Something about this island was strange.
Usually when Vikings pulled into port, people ran in fear. These people just stared…almost menacingly. The Vikings had never encountered this before. They decided a group of them would go investigate the island. Ten went fully armed to scout the land, including their leader. Partially to see what there was to be taken, and also to figure out what was going on with this crazy island. As they past vendors on the pier, they saw strange sculptures and jewelry. They were richly made with gold and other things. It made no sense, it was a tiny island, where did they get the supplies to create such things? Why were they so rich?
The Viking leader, Sven, led his men to the village. There he noticed a woman, very beautiful and strange. He had to meet her. He told his men to continue without him. After grumbling about being bewitched, the men did as they were told and left Sven to chase after this strange woman. She was very tiny boned, and she had paler skin than her kin. Her skin had the same strange purple tint as the other woman he had seen. Her eyes were very large, and her pupils were shaped strangely. Instead of being round, they were more like a horizontal line, with circles at the ends. The iris was purple. They were beautiful.
He felt himself drawn in by those eyes. He walked over to her and sat down beside her. “Hi, I’m Sven” he said to her. “You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.”
She smiled at him, but said nothing. She leaned in to kiss him, and he met her lips. He slipped his tongue in her mouth, and then strange tentacles were crawling into his mouth. He opened his eyes, and met hers. Then everything went black…
Here is a flash fiction story I wrote:
I hated my life. I never felt like I belonged in society. I had friends growing up, but not many and they never lasted. I was utterly alone, no matter how many people were around me. I lived alone. I went to my full time job, then went to my part time job, then went home. That was my life in its entirety, which, of course, is not a life. I was barely existing, running on autopilot. Despite that, I was more awake than the majority. Perhaps that’s why I was so alone. I was awake in a sea of zombies, searching for other non-zombies.
There were only two things that helped my mood, walking and music. So I usually combined the two. It was fall, and the colors were gorgeous. It looked like a painting, didn’t seem like anything that beautiful should exist in the human world. The vibrant reds, purples, and oranges were incredible. It made me forget everything for just a little while. I didn’t feel alone, which was strange because I was the only person there.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something strange. I went to get a closer look, turning off my mp3 player. I could hear a deep warbling sound, which got louder as I approached. There was a portal of some kind. The center was purple, and the outside was black. Something was pulling me towards it. As I got closer, tentacles shot out and grabbed me, pulling me inside. I was not afraid…which struck me as odd.
They filled my head with thoughts and information, “one of us…one of us” they kept saying. Then I understood, I was here for a purpose. They put me back in the forest, and there was a man standing there with wide eyes, smelling of fear. I threw him into the portal, and as the screams echoed, the portal shut. I turned away and walked back home…