Micro Fiction Horror
For the month of January 2026, these are the 100-word stories that intrigue us most.
* Mummified by Morgan Sampson
* Breakfast in Bed by Ella Gonder
* One Previous Owner by Dale Parnell
* Ghost Train by Yash Seyedbagheri
* Tracks by Gordon Eggener
* Time Out by Leah Kafetz Rothman
* Santa Cam by Kara Asmar
* Ave Maria by Cailin Frankland
* Til Death Do Us Part by Alyson Faye
* In Memoriam by Brigitta Scheib
* Two Ways to Say Grace by Matias Travieso-Diaz
* Pins and Needles by Deanna Davidson
* She's Not Into Clowns by Kamran Connelly
Mummified
by
Morgan Sampson
The tomb hadn’t contained the mummy of the princess. Decades of research, years of permits, kissing ass for funding, and it all came to nothing when he opened the burial chamber and found it looted.
A problem easily solved. He looked up at the mummy he’d created, covered in carnelian and gold, now on display under glass at the university museum.
“Professor! Great find, absolutely magnificent.” His sponsor slapped him on the shoulder. “Too bad about your assistant, though. Still no sign of her?”
“No.” He stared at the mummy in the case. “But her presence can still be felt.”
Morgan was born and raised in the Southeastern United States, where she gained a love for folklore, myth, and legend. She works as a professional archaeologist where she spends most of her time getting covered in dirt. She has been published previously in Elegant Literature’s Timeless Terrors volume.
Breakfast in Bed
by
Ella Gonder
I bring my mother breakfast in bed. On the menu today is scrambled eggs with toast and strawberry jam. Then, a cup of tea with two teaspoons of sugar and some milk, just the way she likes it.
“Good morning, Mom!” I say, glancing over at her nightstand. She didn’t touch last night’s dinner. Oh well, the maggots will enjoy it. I set the tray down on her lap and fling open the curtains. Sunlight illuminates millions of larvae feasting on hundreds of uneaten meals piled around the room. Fortunately, there aren’t as many feeding on my mother this morning.
Ella Gonder is a full-time English/cultural studies and history student at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario. She also holds a Professional Editing Standards Certificate from Queen’s University. When she is not writing, she enjoys embroidering and immersing herself in a horror/thriller novel.
I'm Sorry
One Previous Owner
by
Dale Parnell
It’s every night,” Siobhan said. “Bang, on two fifteen the car alarm goes off.”
“There’s nothing wrong that I can find,” the mechanic shrugged. “Maybe it’s kids messing about?”
By the time she was home, Siobhan had come up with a plan. At two o’clock that night, she silently climbed into the back seat of her car, ready to catch the culprit.
At precisely two fifteen, Siobhan let out a startled scream as the figure of a man appeared in the driver’s seat. The faint smell of exhaust fumes filled the car, and a choking, dry voice whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Dale Parnell lives in Staffordshire, England, with his wife and their imaginary dog, Moriarty. His short fiction has been published by Sans Press, 100-Foot Crow, Red Cape Publishing and Black Hare Press, along with several others, and he has previously been nominated for Best of the Net.
Dale drinks too much tea, and his strangest wish is to find a copy of one his self-published short story collections for sale in a second-hand bookshop. You can find Dale on Instagram @shortfictionauthor
Ghost Train
by
Yash Seyedbagheri
Every night, the ghost train rushes at me from behind dumpsters, coffee shop windows, even through my bathtub.
It doesn’t go through me. But fifty tons of metal graze and whirl, jack-o-lantern paint leering, horn blaring. Every time, I glimpse my sister Nan in the cab. She shrieks and reaches out, but I can’t save her.
They say it’s a manifestation. Trauma. I’m high too often.
The train snatches pieces of shirt and skin. Pieces of smiles.
Nan shrieks, and I swear she now says, “Why can’t you help me, asshole?”
They say it’s grief.
The train takes an ear.
Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University's MFA fiction program. His fiction has been nominated for four Pushcart Prizes. Yash's work has been published in Flow Magazine, Prosetrics The Literary Magazine, and Ariel Chart, among others.
Tracks
by
Gordon Eggener
I don't understand it,” said the Professor, studying the snow in dismay.
They'd been tracking those big, five-toed footprints through the mountains for days. Now, nothing.
“Professor!” cried one of the students, pointing.
Atop the ridge stood a brilliant white figure, larger than any man. Its roar shook the heavens as it began to move towards them.
The students ran, but the snow was too deep. The Yeti picked them off with disturbing efficiency.
As it bore down on the Professor, she had time for one final scholarly question: Where had it managed to find such large snowshoes?
Gordon doesn't publish often, but if you look hard you might find some of his writings on a bathroom stall wall near you.
Time Out
by
Leah Kafetz Rothman
Tommy liked time out. In fact, he would get in trouble on purpose just to get put in time out. He knew he could just go over to the corner of the guest room without getting in trouble first, but if he went over there freely, Magnus wouldn’t show up. And Tommy definitely couldn’t have that. Magnus was his best friend. Tommy wanted to see him, so if he had to play by Magnus’ rules to do that, so be it.
But as Tommy got older, it became harder to get into time out. He couldn’t just draw in Sharpie on the wall or get in trouble at school anymore. He had to think bigger, bolder.
And eventually, he thought the biggest. Tommy was now in time out for the rest of his life. But Tommy liked time out. His best friend Magnus was there with him.
Leah Kafetz Rothman is a graduate of the University of Georgia, where she got dual Bachelor’s degrees in English (with a concentration in Creative Writing) and Entertainment and Media Studies. Her work explores the subconscious mind, dreams and nightmares, nostalgia and childhood whimsy, darkly funny social critique, genre as a storytelling tool, and confronting hard emotional truths.
Santa Cam
by
Kara Asmar
Dan woke early and headed for the tripod. This year, he’d outdone himself. The kids would finally catch Santa on tape.
He hit rewind.
There Dan was, in his pillow-stuffed red suit, ass sticking out of the fireplace. He chuckled watching himself approach the camera, sniffing the air for fresh-baked cookies.
Bells jingled faintly. Must’ve been the damn cat.
Tree lights flickered. Had he stepped on the cord?
He squinted at a shifting shadow.
Something tapped at his shoulder.
Dan looked up.
The figure loomed large, arms crossed over a protruding gut. The stench was unbearable, like sour milk.
“Delete it.”
Kara lives in Chicago and works as an editor and researcher. She loves long rants, old video games, and little stories. Some of her poems can be read at Corvid Queen and 50 Haikus.
Ave Maria
by
Cailin Frankland
Lights out, door locked—I count four of them giggling in the dark. A sleepover.
“Bloody Mary…”
Too grown-up for ghost stories, the oldest one stages the scene: hands on the bathroom mirror, she drags ten clammy fingers down the glass: her pulse surges, a quivering drumbeat.
“… Bloody Mary…”
The little one hides behind her slightly bigger sister, half-crying in anticipation—she is younger than I prefer, but her fear is electric. I slide between the wall and the mirror, salivating.
“… Bloody Mary!”
The boy dooms them, his gap-toothed grin all the invitation I need. I eat him first.
Cailín Frankland (she/they) is a British-American writer and public health professional based in Baltimore, Maryland. A Rhysling finalist and Best Microfiction nominee, their cultural criticism, poetry, and fiction explore themes related to feminism, disability justice, queer liberation, and intergenerational trauma across a range of genres and have been featured in numerous print and online publications. They live with their spouse, two old lady cats, a rotating cast of foster animals, and a 70-pound pitbull affectionately known as Baby. You can find them on X as @cailin_sm.
Til Death Do Us Part
by
Alyson Faye
Every marriage has its ups and downs. But this last year has been a living nightmare. Sadie has changed so much. I miss our chats and cuddles.
I still tell her, “I love you, babe,” every time I leave the apartment for food, but with each passing week, I recognise my wife less.
The handcuffs rattling against the pipes keep me awake, her snarling shreds my nerves, and how she devours raw meat repels me.
She’s not Sadie, she’s a Zed. I point my handgun.
Her frenzy stills, hungry, she watches as I turn the weapon on myself.
Aly lives in the UK, with her family and rescue-Labrador, Roxy She is a tutor, mum, wife, swimmer and movie buff. Her fiction has been published widely - in Space and Time #141, by Brigids Gate Press, by Perpetual Motion, Red Cape Press, in several Sirens Call e-zines, often on The Horror Tree, Fairy Tale Magazine and this year’s anthologies, Into the Dread ed by Azzurra Nox, and Kevin J. Kennedy’s The Horror Collection: Amber Edition. https://www.amazon.co.uk/stores/Alyson-Faye/author/B01NBYSLRT
In Memoriam
by
Brigitta Scheib
I picked up the obituary and squinted. Grainy blurbs popped off the page: “Born in Stratford, she lived a full life, earning a degree in psychology from Fairfield.”
Chills tickled my neck.
What a coincidence, I thought, rubbing my fatigued eyes and continuing to read, “Two young brothers and her parents survive her.” I pictured my own brothers and parents, my heart heavy for the bereaved.
“Make donations to… A patient brutally ended her life.”
I crumbled the cold page with a sharp inhale. Feeling faint, I let it fall to the floor.
It was my name at the top.
Brigitta Scheib is a teacher that lives in Harrisburg, PA with her husband, daughter and 3 orange cats. Her work can be found at Temple in a City, Flash Phantoms and Choeofpleirn Press.
Two Ways to Say Grace
by
Matias Travieso-Diaz
An evening, long ago, in a faraway island, a missionary bowed his head and said grace:
“May everything I do serve Thee, our Father, and may the meal I offer today honor Thy name. Bless those who are hungry, and may their need inspire us to generously share our bounty with them. In Your name, Amen.”
The last words the missionary heard before passing out from the heat inside the boiling cauldron were in a language he did not understand:
“Let us thank thee, Sky Lord, for the meal you provided us and which we are about to consume, Amen.”
Born in Cuba, Matias Travieso-Diaz migrated to the United States as a young man. He became an engineer and lawyer and practiced for nearly fifty years. After retirement, he took up creative writing. Over two hundred and thirty of his short stories have been published or accepted for publication in anthologies, magazines, blogs, audio books, and podcasts. One of his novels, an autobiography entitled “Cuban Transplant,” and four anthologies of his stories have also been published.
Pins and Needles
by
Deanna Davidson
Silver glints in the moonlight, sharp and slender. Delicate fingers grasp a thin thread, wrapped in an almost-empty spool. A whistled tune reaches my ears, my eyes frozen open in fear. I am lying on a cold table, solid metal hugging my rigid back. My wrists are bound in shackles, red welts forming under the constraints, blood pooling onto the stone floor. Trapped. A tall figure enters my view, blocking the light. A wicked grin spreads across sultry lips. “Don’t worry, this will only take a moment.” A sharp needle penetrates my eyelids as the witchdoctor seals my eyes shut.
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.
She's Not Into Clowns
by
Kamran Connelly
“Happy Halloween,” the room cries, as each new guest arrives. Most dressed for fright, some for delight. Many have dressed up like the Starry Eye. A real-life killer from these parts, still unfound. Rumoured to have a star-shaped scar below his left eye, and wear a white vest stained in the blood. It’s in bad taste. I pick myself a delight, red-haired zombie cheerleader. She tells me she’s not into clowns. A few drinks later, she changes her mind. In my van, she changes her mind again when I take off my costume and reveal my bloody vest.
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.