Micro Fiction Horror
For the month of March 2026, these are the stories of 100 words that intrigue us most.
* In the Dentist's Chair by Deanna Davidson
* Car for Sale by Kamran Connelly
* Metal Fatigue by Stephen R. Hunt
* Why Did the Dog Bark? by Meredith Flory
* Twice Dead by Angelica Medlin
* Sea Witch by Alyson Faye
* Inward by K.A. Mill
* Carved by Gregory Meece
In the Dentist's Chair
by
Deanna Davidson
Cavities penetrate my teeth to the brittle bones; my gums recede. Pulp gathers in my molars, the scent of decay fresh upon my breath. The dentist walks in, an N95 mask covering his mouth and nose. He grabs a syringe, metal glinting in the overhead light. His hand enters my mouth, a sharp needle pinching swollen gums. My body locks in place, eyes wide with fear. With a strong grip and pliers, he yanks out my molars, placing them in a metal tin. Pulling down the mask, he smiles his decaying grin as rotten teeth fall into my open mouth.
Deanna has received a Bachelor's Degree in English: Creative Writing at California State University, Northridge, as of May 2025. Her work has been featured in Sword & Kettle Press, Mythulu Magazine, Northridge Review, ParABnormal Magazine, Flash Phantoms, Milk & Cake Press, Vine Leaves Press, and Five Minutes.
Car for Sale
by
Kamran Connelly
Seized with the estate of Tony “The Enforcer” Gambino.
1985 Cadillac Eldorado/6.0 V8/Black/27k miles.
One previous owner. Drives like new.
Flawless metallic paint and chrome work.
Factory spec wheels in good condition. Four brand new tyres. Slight screeching sound under braking from the spirit of Bobby “The Irish Bull” Flannigan.
Gorgeous leather interior, lightly blood-stained shag carpet.
Ample trunk space, currently possessed by the ghosts of Michael DeLuca and Joey “Boxcutter” Ramirez, resulting in intermittent knocking and screaming. NOT MECHANICAL.
Small electrical fault in headlights, resulting in sporadic spectral sightings in road ahead.
Quick sale needed. Open to offers.
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.
Metal Fatigue
by
Stephen R. Hunt
Danny was surrounded again, tormented for being a metalhead.
Tony clobbered him. “Get some taste, Dweebmeister.”
Why do they care? thought Danny. It’s just my thing.
Tony’s gang shouted insults, backing their alpha bully.
A rage entered Danny; a new sensation for him, his eyes possessed.
Wait for midnight, motherfucker!
11.59 p.m. Tony’s listening to hip-hop; it’s his thing.
Three phantoms appear in his room. The tallest tips his cross-swords cavalry hat, while another removes his shades, revealing eyes of princely darkness. Between the two, a devil-horned hand appears. As Tony soils his bed, the phantoms vanish… Lesson learned.
Stephen R. Hunt is a fifty-nine year old injection moulding technician from Burton-upon-Trent in the heart of England. He has a self published novel on Amazon, and has written several short stories. He writes for fun and a creative outlet and because strange ideas just seem to turn up in his head. His stories all have a speculative, sci-fi or horror aspect, where he tries to create an otherworldly atmosphere. He has previously been published in Flash Phantoms and has a short story published in ELA Literary magazine on their website.
He can be found on Instagram as Stephenrichardhunt.
Why Did the Dog Bark?
by
Meredith Flory
She startled awake, limbs frozen, breathing short in the dark room.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a black oily cloud drifting along the ceiling, entering from the direction of the guest bedroom, which she only went into to clean.
She tilted her eyes, unable to move her body, to track its path.
The small terrier, curled up at her feet, turned its head and barked.
Released, she turned the lamp on.
Nothing.
“Only sleep paralysis,” her mother said. “Your grandmother experienced it.”
She remembered the family quilt in the guest bedroom.
“Why did the dog bark?”
Meredith Flory is an adjunct English professor at a community college, military spouse, and mother. She has a master's degree in literature from Kansas State University and has been freelance writing for around a decade. Her journalism can be seen in magazines such as Military Families and Muse, and her former parenting column, "Raising Readers," for Augusta Family magazine, won a Parenting Media Bronze award in 2017. Her fiction work can be found in publications like Paperbound Magazine, and links to most of her work is available at www.meredithflory.com.
Twice Dead
by
Angelica Medlin
Shannon believed that once you died, you came back as a ghost. So, when she was murdered, only to reawaken in the same bedroom she’d slept in for years, she realized she’d been correct.
When she suddenly saw her bloody body cross the hall, Shannon followed herself, caught up to herself, and was terrified at the rotting thing standing before her.
Shannon was not just a ghost, it seemed; Shannon was also a zombie.
And as Shannon’s body ambled out the front door and into the bright light of chaos outside, all Shannon’s ghost could do was watch.
Angelica “Angie” Medlin is a 30-year-old Chicana English professor from Southern California who lives with her loving partner and many houseplants. By day, she teaches writing to the youth of the nation. By night, she is a witch of the written word, brewing the strongest of potions in her special cauldron. Angelica has several poetry publications through Indie Earth Publishing’s The Spell Jar series, as well as a poetry publication through California Quarterly. Her first paranormal short story was published in the Haunted by Tarot Halloween anthology of short fiction, and she has won two short story contests through TheNewYorkCritique.com.
Sea Witch
by
Alyson Faye
The day-trippers depart, abandoning coke cans and spades. At dusk, a girl walks out of the waves, dragging a net stitched from kelp. She trawls the foreshore for sea garnets and moonstones. Payment in advance. Her skin is bone white; her lips, black as bark, open wide, tasting the tune, ancient and bewitching.
Doors rip open in the village, as menfolk pour forth, trailing bloodied ropes, eyes mad with enchantment. They surge towards the sea, tossing away clinging children like jetsam, women wailing in their wake.
In ecstasy, the waves consume them. A boy cries, “Pa!”
The sea witch smiles.
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
BEEP BEEP
Inward
by
K.A. Mill
He had to leave soon, and he already looked everywhere. Everywhere except inwards. Now the time has come. He squished the eyeballs with his fingers, pushed through, and turned them. He dived into darkness, the texture of the meat, nauseating pulsing of his bloody veins. With the base of his palm, he pressed his nose as well, deep, to smell the rot of his organs. Something shone, something odd. He sniffed metal and leather. He gaped his mouth and put his hand in. Finger by finger, then wrist, elbow. He wiggled and pushed the object. Beep beep. The car doors opened.
K. A. Mill writes about grief, cosmic dread, and the absurdity of being alive. He hopes the best work comes from realizing you have no idea what you're doing.
Carved
by
Gregory Meece
Most take them home, preferring to carve their own. Others are drawn to my unique offerings. One woman lingered at my pumpkin stand, captivated by my Jacob-o’-lantern.
“Looks more scared than scary,” she said. “Almost alive. But why Jacob—not Jack?”
“He deserved...” I started, then smiled—a pumpkin grin. I took her money.
Later, a man flashed his detective’s badge. “My wife bought a carved pumpkin here,” he said. “She thought she recognized a man’s face. Been missing for some time.”
They dug up the yard and found Benjamin.
Then Horace.
Jacob, too.
The others keep quiet.
For now.
Gregory Meece’s career in education spanned every grade from kindergarten through college. He earned degrees in English, communications, and education. His short fiction has appeared in several anthologies and in magazines including Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, Black Cat Weekly, Bristol Noir, Thriller Magazine, House of Long Shadows, Blood Moon Rising, ParABnormal, New Flash Fiction Review, Flash Fiction Magazine, Cleaver Magazine, Willows Wept Review, Fabula Argentia, Scaffold, and Every Day Fiction. He lives in Pennsylvania, where he works with his Amish neighbors, carves wood, and writes stories. Visit him at MeeceTales.com.