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It's That Season

free-horror-stories

Harley reached for Zombie-Elsa’s long blonde braid and tugged, her smile impish.

“Quit it.” Zombie-Elsa adjusted her wig in the mirror. “You’re on Mom’s bad side for your slutty costume, so don’t push your luck.”

“It’s not slutty,” Harley Quinn said, surveying her appearance. “It’s true to the comic. You’re just jealous I picked it first.”

The undead snow queen ignored this. “Hurry up. We’re supposed to meet them in ten minutes. It’ll take longer just to walk there.”

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Cool Summer Treats

free-monkey-scifi

One day the ringmaster gathered everybody in the circus: clowns, acrobats, jugglers, lion tamers, bearded ladies and strong men. Everybody, including the Kitteridge brothers, stood in the center ring while the ringmaster revealed that the circus had gone bankrupt. “I am afraid,” the ringmaster announced, “that I do not have the money for your last payday. You are free to take anything you like.”

Always keep an eye on the clowns. Before the ringmaster could even finish his last word, the clowns were already scurrying about and looting anything worth stealing before anybody else could get to it. They were vicious.

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Turtled Dove

free-scifi

The explosion rocked the Dove before the two men could consult on the change in their ship any further. With a knowing look, they immediately shifted to the seriousness called for in a situation like this.

“Engines,” Hugh called.

“Then I shall see to Life Support.”

They scattered, a tickle of preemptive panic over their off-ecliptic shortcut fluttering in Hugh’s gut as he triggered an automated diagnostic.

Scuttling aft, Hugh tried to temper his panic with the knowledge that whatever the source of the explosion, it hadn’t killed them.

Yet.

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How the Static Men Saved Our Marriage

free-scifi-story

At night they come prancing into the bedroom like they own the place. The static men have no concept of ownership or privacy. To them we’re some kind of prop-- the parquet floor beneath their dancing shoes.

Carl and I are holding hands beneath the covers, our bodies already rigid. Then the creatures get started, dancing above us with their static bodies, almost transparent, the edges of their forms nebulous. Only their smiles are real.  Their big, white teeth shine down in wide grins. They wiggle their long static hands in our faces. Carl and I lie transfixed.

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An Act of Consumption, in Two Parts

free-fiction-consumpt

In the basement, there is candy. Boxes teetering atop boxes, overloaded with gum gums and chew worms and those little nougat-filled eyeballs that blink when you stare overlong; with honeyed do's and honeyed dont's; with tar braids and clots of candied floss.

The basement has all the candy you've ever dreamed of, a sticky thrill in every box that's yours and yours alone because only you know where the basement door is currently hiding.

The basement, unfortunately, is also full of spiders.

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