Micro Fiction Horror
For the month of June 2025, these are the 100-word stories that intrigue us most.
* The Skeletons Are Very Literal by Kay Wilson
* The Cigarette by Nathan DeBar
* Hematopoiesis by Wayne Tyree
* The Madison's House by Annie Williams
* Ghost Among the Oaks by Kat Mulvihill
* Four Horsemen by Derek McMillian
* Torn Cartilage by Litsa Dremousis
* The Participants by B. Royster
* A Fool's Moon by Paul Lewthwaite
* The Last One by Jim Harrington
The Skeletons Are Very Literal
by
Kay Wilson
You found them collecting dust in the back of the closet next to a VHS box set. Your grandfather lived here alone all those years. Someone missed these and wondered where they went and what rest was allowed for them. Were they stolen or bought? You clasped one of their hands gently in yours, and you shivered. It was lighter than you imagined. Like the tapes, the bones were too old and degraded to tell a clear story, one that plays out from beginning to end without any jumps or distorted audio. But you took one look, and you knew what they were.
Kay Wilson lives and writes in Philadelphia. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys wandering around cemeteries, cooking strange vegan meals and being chased by her cat.
The Cigarette
by
Nathan DeBar
She sits silently in the dark on her chestnut chair, eyes red from an evening of crying. She has no tears left to cry. The room is wholly still, holding her heartbeat and moonlight. Her phone – dead. She takes a puff of the half-worn cigarette in her mouth, breaking a familial sin of smoking indoors. Those things will kill you one day, her mother would say. Her mother was wrong.
He would, tonight, in the pure moonlight. No strength to break out of the rope. He takes the kitchen knife and slices her waiting throat. The cigarette falls into embers.
Nathan DeBar is a poet and short fiction writer from Leakesville, Mississippi, and holds an MA in Greek and Latin from the University of Georgia. His short story, "The Long Morning," was chosen as Editor's Top Choice by Styx Papers Lit Mag. His poem, "Manhattan Cafe," has been chosen for publication in the Georgia Bards: Poetry Anthology 2025, set to release in June of 2025. He has been or will be published in over twenty-five publications as of the time writing this. A full list of his published works can be found at his Linktree and Instagram: @nate.debar.
Hematopoiesis
by
Wayne Tyree
The dripping moved closer to the door, accompanied by a hideous rattle. Jean knew he shouldn’t have gone into the vaults; he should have just listened to old Solomon and let the secret lie in the dark, but he couldn’t resist those brass doors. The dripping held steady in front of the door. Jean quickly retreated, hiding in a decrepit wardrobe. He could see through a crack as the door creaked open. Into the ethereal light cast through the ancient window limped the seeping, sanguine skeleton. It stared with stygian sockets at the wardrobe and, with a gurgling hiss, spoke, “Jean.”
Wayne Tyree grew up near Mammoth Cave in South Central Kentucky, where he developed his love for horror and literature while exploring haunted churches, caves, and the pages of his favorite narratives. In this story, Wayne hopes to illicit that unique, skin-crawling dissonance that arrives when you know you should have listened to your elder. The primal feeling that tells you at your core there is no way back.
The Madison's House
by
Annie Williams
The abandoned, graffitied colored house was so cold on that hot summer night. Even with all the flickering candles that circled me, it was frigid. I sat on the frozen floor as I asked if there was a presence. Through the static of the spirit box, I heard a soft voice say, “Yes.” I couldn’t help but grin and ask the ghost what was the worst part about dying. It was silent until muffled words came through the white noise, “I don’t know which is worse, being killed by your parents or knowing you will never grow up.”
Annie Williams is a writer from Fraser, Michigan that graduated from Oakland University with a Bachelors in Creative Writing. She has three poetry collections, her latest being ‘Metal Poetry.’ Her work has also appeared in the publications of Fatal Flaw Literary Magazine, Sigma Tau Delta The Rectangle, Broken Antler Magazine, Nuestras Voces, Swallow The Moon, Echo Cognito, WILDSound Festival, and Wingless Dreamer Publisher. When she is not writing she is either rocking out at a concert or staying at home watching a horror movie.
Ghost Among the Oaks
by
Kat Mulvihill
You can reach out endlessly to someone and fail to connect. You can’t even pray for someone whose soul has been wrested from him.
You stroll through the urban park in the morning mist where he loves to lose himself among the ancient Live Oaks, alive and strong with their massive trunks, yet branches gnarled and hardened by age. Sage green moss drips gallows-like from limbs that form a zigzag of forked roads.
You walk on. There, beside the lanky, blowing moss is my husband, no longer a care in the world, hanging from the limb of the Suicide Oak.
Kat Mulvihill is a former journalist who has reported in the Los Angeles, New Orleans and Boston markets. She put aside her news reporting career to poke at politics and contemporary culture. Her political satires and other works have been published in Little Old Lady Comedy, The Haven, and elsewhere.
Four Horsemen
by
Derek McMillian
Four horsemen rode forth heralding the end of time. Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death, they called themselves. They thought themselves fine fellows. For a day, they raged across the face of the earth, slaughtering millions and bringing untold suffering. Then they rested for the night in a woodland glade. In the morning, when they woke from their rest, they found that the horses had all died in the night. What were they supposed to do now? Would they become the four pedestrians of the apocalypse? For one thing, they would never give Death the job of feeding the horses again.
Derek McMillan is a writer in Durrington. His editor is his wife, Angela. He has had work published in online magazines in the USA, Canada, Australia and the UK. His latest publication is the cheerfully-entitled ‘Murder from Beyond the Grave’ which is available as an audiobook on eBay.
Torn Cartilage
by
Litsa Dremousis
When I came to, I saw a face hovering above mine, and for a second, I froze.
I couldn’t recall where I was, and then I remembered that Jason and I had been studying Trig in his room while his parents watched Battle of the Network Stars downstairs.
So, whose face was this? Was it Jason’s mouth contorted in baseless rage?
I saw the tiny rubber bands surrounding his braces—yes, it was Jason’s.
“If you tell, I’ll deny it,” he whispered.
Tell what?
Then I tasted blood.
I mustered all my strength and bit his nose until he screamed.
Litsa Dremousis (she/her) is the author of Altitude Sickness (Future Tense Books). Seattle Metropolitan Magazine named it one of the all-time “20 Books Every Seattleite Must Read”. Her essay “After the Fire” was selected as one of the “Most Notable Essays 2011” by Best American Essays, and The Seattle Weekly named her one of “50 Women Who Rock Seattle”. She recently left the Washington Post, where she’d been an essayist who wrote extensively about Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. (Fuck you, Jeff Bezos.) Her work has appeared in Esquire, Hobart, McSweeney’s, NY Mag, The Rumpus, et al.
The Participants
by
B. Royster
I awoke in a barred cell, gagging from a putrid meat smell.
“Where am I?” I gasped to my neighboring cellmate.
“I assume you’ve agreed to participate in the Immortality Drug Study. We’re confined in their laboratory.”
His face was wrong. Nose partially sloughed off. Brow collapsed over his eyes.
“What’s happened to you?”
“I’m the immortality drug’s unexpected side effect of decay. I rot but don’t die. I’m their immortal lab rat. Observed, examined, biopsied throughout my endless days.”
“Why am I here?” I feared his answer.
“I can only tell you, the first 100 years are the hardest.”
B. Royster lives in Spartanburg, South Carolina, with her adult children and only grandchild, a 5-year-old gray wolf. Published in three monthly 2025 contests, Shallow Waters, Crystal Lake Publishing. Current student of Flash Fiction Writer’s Workshop, taught by author Patrice Fentiman, Spartanburg County Public Library.
A Fool's Moon
by
Paul Lewthwaite
I used to hunt them down, catching them alive, while they were still in human form. Their golden eyes gave them away. Once they’d shifted, one bite was all it took.
Da showed me how to skin them when they transformed.
I remember that first full moon well—trembling hands, bile, my Da swearing at me. Flashing knives, snapping jaws, and blood—lots of blood, but their magical pelts are worth a fortune.
It got easier with practice. Too easy.
Forgot my damn gauntlets that last time. A little nick, nothing really, but Da noticed.
Now, I’m the hunted one.
Paul lives in Scotland. A few stories have oozed from his mind and now fester in such places as Crepuscular Magazine, 100-Foot Crow, Flash Phantoms and Dark Moments.
The Last One
by
Jim Harrington
I knew three things about the woman in the wheelchair. Her name was Margarette, she was old, and somebody wanted her dead.
“I’ve probably said this before, but I want to see Pope Leo in person before I die.” She held my hand. I shuddered at her soft touch.
It seemed a simple plan. Take her to Rome, play tourist, see the Pope, return home — alone. Now something didn’t jibe.
Margarette brightened as Pope Leo stepped onto the balcony. Her wrinkled face morphed into a younger individual.
I disappeared into the crowd, certain someone would ensure Margarette returned home safely.
Jim Harrington lives in Huntersville, NC, with his wife and two dogs. He retuned to writing in December 2023 after a lengthy hiatus and may finally be back in the groove. His stories have appeared in Flash Fiction Magazine, Flash Phantoms, Bath Flash Fiction Review, The Rye Whiskey Review, and others.