Micro Fiction Horror
For the month of February 2026, these are the stories of 100 words that intrigue us most.
* Work Til Death by Deanna Davidson
* It Wasn't Without Hardships by Samuel Totten
* Looking Dead by Fatimah Akanbi
* Not Long Now by Kamran Connelly
* The Early Edition by J. Hess
* Precious by Ella Gonder
* Backspaced by Gilliane Marie Damasco
* The Scarecrow by Emily Hall
* Get Home Safe by James Cates
* On Repeat by Tina Wingham
Work Til Death
by
Deanna Davidson
The hour is inching toward midnight. Deadlines approach as early as the upcoming dawn. White light penetrates my vision as edges begin to blacken. Eyes dry, turning red from the radioactive computer screen. My bloody fingerprints imbed into the worn keyboard, leaving lines of identification above each letter. I close my tired eyes. “Keep going!” Phantom screams echo inside my skull, shattering bone rips through my frontal cortex, leaving brain matter to jiggle inside. Red drops pool in the corner of my eyes, spilling down sunken cheeks. Bloody teardrops hit my keyboard as I keel over in a lifeless heap.
Deanna has received a Bachelor's Degree in English: Creative Writing at California State University, Northridge, as of May 2025. She writes dystopian, fantasy, and sci-fi short stories, as well as children's literature and poetry.
It Wasn't Without Hardships
by
Samuel Totten
The eruption of the genocide here in Rwanda was like a ruptured appendix--horrifying, crippling, and deadly. While our family was lucky, we faced certain hardships.
One morning, as mother drew her bath and stepped into the tub, she screamed. As I reached her, she pointed to the red-tinted bath water.
“Blood!”
“What?”
“It comes from the Kagera River, our water source.”
As the genocidaires beheaded the Tutsis, they chucked them into the river. We had heard rumors that so many bodies had been dumped into the fast-flowing river that it had begun to turn red, with blood.
Samuel Totten is a novelist, short story writer and poet. Previously he was a scholar of genocide studies at the University of Arkansas. During that time he conducted fieldwork in Rwanda, the Chad/Darfur (Sudan) border, and the Nuba Mountains of Sudan. His first novel, All Eyes on the Sky, was published by African Studies Books, Kampala, Uganda. Recently, he has had short stories published by History Through Fiction, Frighten the Horses, New Feathers Anthology, Black Cat Weekly, The Wise Owl and The Brussels Review.
Looking Dead
by
Fatimah Akanbi
When sexagenarian Jaye died this morning, her family didn't know what to do. Her body had stiffened, her heart had stopped, yet her eyes stayed wide open, blinking fine.
Her son was on the phone with the doctor. “She looks dead, Sir, but her eyes are open and still blinking. Please, come over and help us out.”
At the corner of the room, Jaye’s soul leaned against her wardrobe, the eyes shut.
“Will you be quick and come along already, you greedy eyes? You’ve had six decades to look—that’s long enough.”
The living eyes shifted hesitantly before they closed.
Fatimah Akanbi writes fiction and poetry. Her works have appeared or are forthcoming on Sudden Flash, Star*Line, The Hoolet's Nook & The Five-Two, among others. She is @legendary.scribe on Instagram.
Not Long Now
by
Kamran Connelly
As I fire the last bullet and the spent casing hits the floor, a curious wave of relief rather than fear washes over me. Beyond the window, the hoard, unending and unaffected by my efforts, shuffles forward. I swore to fight as long as I had ammo to use, and I have. And for what good? A horrifying sound of hungry snarling closes in on me from every direction, layer upon layer, like a symphony of the undead. Who wants to be the last man on earth anyway? A wretched-looking arm finally reaches through the window. Not long now.
Kam’s short story BLOOD BANK due to be released by Baynam Books and DEATH BED INC accepted by Twisted Dreams Press, is published online at The Horror Tree, Trembling with Fear, WitCraft, and T. Saunders publishing for his works of fiction. Has poetry featured in three anthologies, a novella featured in the Paul Cave Prize for literature. And is shopping around his debut novel, The Extinction Process.
The Early Edition
by
J. Hess
Deep sobs wracked Tess. She had finally told Bill she wanted a divorce, and he had stormed off.
The door swung open, Jimmy bounding in with excitement. “Mommy, look what I found!”
Tess wiped her cheeks and turned to him. “Watcha got there?”
He thrust a tin box into her hand. “Treasure!”
Puzzled, she removed the lid and withdrew a faded clipping from the local newspaper. She read the headline: Family Dies in Tragic Murder-Suicide. Her eyes darted to the masthead, widening as she saw tomorrow’s date.
“What’s it say, Mommy?”
A car pulled into the driveway. Bill was home.
J. Hess enjoys traveling, writing flash fiction and creative nonfiction, and hiking (not necessarily in that order). J.’s work has appeared in Bright Flash Literary Review, 50-Word Stories, and elsewhere.
Precious
by
Ella Gonder
My parents used to call me their precious doll. They loved how my cheeks were rosy and plump, and how my hair curled into impeccably even ringlets.
They’d always buy me frilly dresses and ballet flats adorned with bows. Sometimes they’d smile and joke about putting me in a little box to keep forever and ever.
I always thought they meant a plastic box like the ones other dolls come in. Instead, they packaged me in a hideous, clunky wooden box. One that’s been chucked into the ground rather than dignifiedly displayed on a shelf.
How is anyone supposed to see this precious doll?
Ella Gonder studies English and history at McMaster University in Ontario, Canada. She also holds a Professional Editing Standards Certificate from Queen’s University. When she is not writing, she enjoys embroidering and sinking her fangs into horror/thriller novels.
Backspaced
by
Gilliane Marie Damasco
This is the fourth time we moved houses. Dad believes we can start anew for the fourth time, too.
He thought it was because Mom died in our first house, so we moved to escape the bad energy. Then my sister got sick in the second and died in the third.
How can I tell him it’s not the house, but the lady he brought to take care of Mom when she was sick? Agnes and her needles and little dolls.
I shouldn’t be writing this on Dad’s laptop. I need to tell him before she finds out I knowujhyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
Gilliane Marie Damasco is a Filipino writer with a deep passion for creative writing. She won the NovelTala Short Story Contest with her short story “Agatha’s Tale” and is part of Alontala’s Between Tides anthology with her work “Whispers from the Ashes.” She has also published several poems in various anthologies by Nyra Publishers, including Joy in Small Things and She Writes the World. She enjoys writing poems and short stories and dreams of publishing her own novel someday.
The Scarecrow
by
Emily Hall
My split-open mouth and dangling eye should scare the birds. But they come to me anyway.
They pull on my tattered dress and sew it back together with their beaks.
They only scatter when the farmer comes each morning. He flings water over his crops before looking up at me to grunt, “Useful. Finally.”
But my birds always come back when he leaves. They feed me fat worms and glistening beetles.
They gnaw on the ropes the farmer used when he lashed me to this stake.
And when I’m finally freed, my birds will pierce his soft belly and eat.
Emily Hall (she/her) has prose published, or forthcoming in, places such as Passages North, Cherry Tree, Blood Orange Review, 100 Word Story, 50-Word Stories, Portland Review, and Necessary Fiction. She and her husband live in NC, and for their first date, they watched a horror movie.
Get Home Safe
by
James Cates
“Happy hour, anyone?” A common question posed on a Friday afternoon in corporate sales. I had nothing better to do, so ultimately, I decided to tag along. One bar turned into two, and one drink turned into more. It wasn’t long before I felt it best to leave my car at the office and rideshare home.
We approached my house, and I noticed I left a light on as I reached for my bag. “Aw, it’s so nice that he stayed up waiting for you.”
I looked up to see a man waving from the lighted window. I lived alone.
James is an emerging writer with a background in the performing arts. Although horror draws him most, his interest in the human experience grants him fluidity. From witty remarks to tasteful exposition, he hopes to always share the ancient art of storytelling.
On Repeat
by
Tina Wingham
Five years ago, I went out with some friends for New Year’s and found myself lying in a pool of blood on the back steps of Infinity Nightclub, the bass thumping through the old wooden door like a second heartbeat. The neon sign flickered above me in some sad little attempt at welcome. I remembered thinking that it didn’t hurt as much as it should.
That year, my resolution was to live and enjoy New Year's Eve.
This year, my resolution was for the endless repetitive loop of that night to finally end.
Tina Wingham is an award winning horror writer from Brisbane, Australia. She thrives on keeping her readers entertained and hooked from the very first page to the last. She has a passion for storytelling that blends suspense, emotion, and unexpected twists, and she likes to craft stories that leave her readers on the edge of their seats, eagerly turning the pages.
www.tinawingham.com, https://www.instagram.com/tina.wingham?igsh=MnRjbHowcjliOHdj&utm_source=qr, https://www.facebook.com/share/186ogwusc8/?mibextid=wwXIfr