“I’m Vampire hunter proof.”

“Prove it,” she said.

Being four hundred years old was never enough to impress any woman, especially human ones. Some things never change.

He shattered a sharp wooden stake against his heart tearing a hole in his shirt.

“What about garlic?” she was testing now.

He snatched down a head of garlic hanging outside a shop and took a bite swallowing it down with ease.

“Spicy,” he snickered.

She pulled him in for a kiss. One of the silver balls on her tongue stud came off and slid down his throat.

Burning now. From the inside.

PHOTO PROMPT – © Kent Bonham

PHOTO PROMPT – © Kent Bonham

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June 26th, 2015

Posted In: 100 Word Stories, Friday Fictioneers

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“I’m going to kill you Tommy!”

“Rose, I’m ten and you are only five. Plus, I’ll tell Mom.”

They both stood as Titans squaring off at the side of the families’ old white paint chipped house.

Each child controlled a massive blood thirsty creature eight times their size ready to eviscerate the other.

Tommy struck first willing his beast to attack. Massive jaws opened and closed snapping at the throat of Rose’s monster.

“You’re hurting her!” Rose forced her monster’s great claws low to swipe at Tommy’s monster’s legs.

The creature stumbled and began to bleed. Rose’s smile was quickly thwarted as she saw the bloodlust in her brother’s eyes.

“Kids! Dinners ready. Get in here before it gets too dark,” Mom’s voice shouted.

“You’re lucky,” Tommy sneered.

“Whatever, let’s go.”

The two children trotted around to the porch. Their monsters bounced behind them as affixed doppelgangers before vanishing into nothing.

The long shadow battle would resume tomorrow at sunset.

The sun setting behind buildings

The sun setting behind buildings

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Monster Art by http://vegasmike.deviantart.com/

June 22nd, 2015

Posted In: Short Stories, Sunday Photo Fiction

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The full moon rises and here I sit alone, in this steel cage, playing this simple game.

Outside you would hard pressed to see passed my perfect crisp green lawn. Hanging colorful baskets of flowers on my front porch are quite inviting to the senses.

But once a month, the shades come down and steel bars fall from the ceilings. I descend the stairs to the basement for a monthly sleep over.

As I watch my hand turn to deadly paw and claw my last rational thought of the night as human springs forward.

‘Did I turn the dishwasher on?’

Wooden solitaire set

Wooden solitaire set

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June 7th, 2015

Posted In: 100 Word Stories, Sunday Photo Fiction

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The crew of the Angel Flame received orders to head out.

Travers concentrated on the sub’s controls making their final descent into a deep underwater cave. They would ride just above ‘hull crush’ depth.

“What do you think is down here skip?” she asked the captain.

Captain Onslow watched the circular green sonar screen. “Doesn’t matter. We light up all the cameras and get the hell out if we find anything.”

The small crew of three each manned their stations with trepidation. A small beep echoed in the cabin and all twitched except Onslow.

“What is it Ray-Ray?” Onslow asked the sonar man.

Ray didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed on the screen and large. He furiously began banging his nose into his control panel. Clucking?

“Hit the flashes and turn around Travers,” Onslow screamed but it was too late.

She was already perched on her monitor -trousers down trying to lay an egg.

To be continued…

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham


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May 22nd, 2015

Posted In: Mondays Finish the Story, Short Stories

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Television screens froze baring a message, ‘Incoming message from the President.’

“In this world where God has lost, Science has won and the Alien invasion has given machines new breath,” the President paused causing a global stress test on the durability of couch cushion edges.

“On this Earth. Our Earth. We have reason to believe that new organic machines have successfully infiltrated our wildlife and even our populace. They watch you from the trees, they flutter in your herb garden and they teach your children in school,” a bead of sweat sprang from the small tuft of grey hair at his temple rolling down the aging cheek.

“They. Them. These… things,” he was looking around grasping for words now.

The frame jerked as the camera was knocked over. The live feed now piped images of the oval office carpet and polished black shoes stomping around in struggle. Gun shots rang off their targets like ancient iron church bells echoing in the frightened ears of millions.

All is quiet within a few seconds.

Tears rolled down the cheeks of confused children and the Veterans who knew what was coming.

Metal fingers clasped clacking around the camera’s lens squeezing. A terrified but unified Earth bathed in the bright snowing gray transmissional disconnect of war.

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Grasshopper on a wrist watch

Grasshopper on a wrist watch

May 3rd, 2015

Posted In: Short Stories, Sunday Photo Fiction

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