Frightmares: A Fistful of Flash Fiction Horror by Unknown Read Free Book Online

behind her, took her elbow and steadied her arm. “Close your eyes, child. See the target in your mind, feel it in your soul as if it were pain. We don’t like pain, now do we?”
    “No sir.”
    He stepped back. “Go on ahead now. Hit the target.”
    Cadence shut her eyes, stepped out with one foot and flicked her wrist. The rock skimmed the water’s surface three times before striking the woman dangling upside down from the overhanging tree limb. The woman let out a yelp of pain as she swayed from side to side. Blood flowed from the wound above her eye, seeping into her brown hair.
    “Nice!” Remy cheered.
    The child’s eyes grew wide, a smile stretched across her young face.
    “Do you want to try again?”
    “Yes!” she said, clapped her scarred hands together.
    He rummaged through the sediment, came back up with several smooth rocks.
    “Aim for the middle of the face next time. She’s still much too pretty. Remember how she looked at you? Remember how it made you feel?”
    Cadence nodded, took another rock and closed her eyes and remembered.
    A.J. Brown is a scribbler of words. Some of those words are decent enough to see the light of day. His scribbles have appeared in Necrotic Tissue, Allegory, Bards and Sages Quarterly and The Gloaming.

MUSH
     
    LOGAN BRANJORD
     
    Gales of snow-speckled wind pelted the faces of Stockton and his dogs. Mint and Vanilla nearly tore through the harnesses in their strain to pull the sled up an endless incline. Each time Stockton heard more panting than pushing, he took the whip and cracked them on their haunches. Deep gashes decorated their rumps. Mint’s fur had stopped growing back in places where Stockton had “encouraged” her most.
    The racer wiped frost from his eyelashes and snot from his cheeks. With the blinding yellow disc of the sun, he couldn’t see well enough to steer. Crags jutted up beside them.
    The path began to slope downward. When the dogs couldn’t keep up, the sled skidded out of control. At treacherous speed, the sled slammed into a boulder. Wood splintered and Stockton flew through the air. He felt a jabbing pain into his side when he collided with the boulder. Everything went dark.
    When he awoke, Stockton found his shinbone protruding from the skin and his knee cap had slid out of place. He saw splinters of wood sticking out from his side with a trail of red gel melting through the snow. It was his blood.
    His dogs had deserted him. He saw shreds of chewed-up harnesses laying everywhere. Mint’s fault, he thought. Mint was always a disobedient bitch. She barked, nipped, peed on his things and ran away every time she got the chance. Worse yet, Mint distracted the other dogs. So she had to have been behind this little “canine revolution” of the dogs. Stockton wished he’d thrown her in the river after all.
    Stockton must have fallen asleep. He awoke again under a full white moon and with a dreadful wind from the north. His legs felt numb and lifeless. His left side was tingling.
    He called to his dogs. “Vanilla!” he said, “Mint!” His words echoed back to him.
    A set of hungry eyes appeared against the tree line. Stockton’s chest fluttered. Then he saw their shape and he prickled with recognition. That’s Mint!
    “Mint!” he called, coughing violently, “Mint come!”
    The eyes disappeared at the sound of his voice; very characteristic of Mint. Stockton fell asleep a half hour later.
    Next time he awoke, his whole body was stiff. He could only move his neck and shoulders. His hips had frozen in place. Those eyes appeared again.
    Stockton didn’t have the energy to call. He remembered his love for the dog now. He wanted her to come fall asleep on him. He craved to feel her warm breath against his cheek, despite her dog smell. As Stockton fell asleep he was vaguely aware of something warm massaging his legs.
    Hours later, Stockton awoke, disappointed to find himself back in the bitter wind. His eyes were frozen shut. A crawling