Micro Fiction Horror
For the month of September 2025, these are the 100-word stories that intrigue us most.
* Girl's Night by C.M. Saunders
* Mrs. No Nose by Vidya Hariharan
* The Visitor by Sean Winkler
* Shelby by Amelia Bowes Foster
* Al's Final Wish by Chip Houser
* Best Read in a Single Breath by Chris Morris
* For Crying Out Loud by Thomas Brodkin
* On Board by Andrea Tillmanns
* Kheti's Folly by Gary Thomson
* Tickles So Good by Bruce Carrington
* Devil's Number by Cailey Hart
Girl's Night
by
C.M. Saunders
Thursday night was bridge night, and Mildred had the girls over. They still considered themselves girls, even though not one of them was under 70.
“So, are we going to meet Graham tonight?” Ruth asked, as always.
“No, he’s in the shed.”
“That man! He spends all his time in that bloody shed!”
“True!”
They cackled together, and the game went on.
At the end of the evening, Mildred saw the girls out of the door and then went to check on Graham.
He was still there, in chains and gagged, as he had been since 1985.
Chris Saunders, who writes fiction as C.M. Saunders, is a writer and editor from the ex-mining village of New Tredegar, Wales. He spent several years teaching English in China and has worked extensively in the publishing industry, holding desk jobs ranging from staff writer to associate editor. He is currently employed at a trade publication. His fiction has appeared in numerous magazines, ezines and anthologies around the world, including The Literary Hatchet, Crimson Streets, 34 Orchard, Phantasmagoria, Burnt Fur, and DOA volumes I and III, while his books have been both traditionally and independently published. His latest release is the contemporary horror Tethered on 13 Days Publishing. https://cmsaunders.wordpress.com/
Mrs. No Nose
by
Vidya Hariharan
The kids living on that street called her Mrs. No Nose. No one knew her real name. She lived alone with her Persian cat, Duessa.
Billy was the one who caught her. She had managed to sneak out a window and sat washing herself on the sill. He threw a rope around her and yanked her towards himself. The other boys watched.
The next day, Mrs. No Nose could be heard calling out to her pet. And on the third day, the boys on the street had no noses on their faces, and Billy had claws growing out of his fingertips.
Vidya Hariharan is a manic reader, traveller and teacher. In her spare time, she wrestles with crossword puzzles. Some of her prose narratives and poems can be found on Setu, Poetry Superhighway, The Woodside Review, Glomag, Café Dissensus, Borderless, The Bamboo Hut and The Wise Owl. She also won the Editor’s Choice Award for her haiku from “Under the Basho” in 2024.
The Visitor
by
Sean Winkler
A man is standing at my window again; he is looking for a way in. This happens in moments like this, when I’m lying between wakefulness and sleep. It doesn’t matter where I am. Somehow, he always manages to find me. I cannot see his face; that is, if he even has one. If I could turn my head, I know he would retreat into my periphery. But I can’t do that; I cannot move at all. When I try to scream, nobody comes. Sooner or later, he will find a way to enter. What happens when he finally does?
Sean Winkler is a fiction author from Southern California. He writes short stories in the genres of horror and speculative fiction, which have appeared in Flash Phantoms (“Tête-à-Tête”), The Great Ape (“Shark Therapy”), Locust Review (“Lenin, Alive!”), Mercurius (“Ode to Red Vienna”) and Tiny Molecules (“Oasis”, “The Nevada Desert Experience”). He is now working on his first novella, to be titled We Are Not Nu Metal.
Shelby
by
Amelia Bowes Foster
Age would’ve made the lockers at Lower Grenville High School seem quaint to Melinda, if it hadn’t been for the one across from the water fountain. Shelby had stood in front of it thirteen years ago, filling up her pink reusable bottle.
“Try to make it two minutes without crying, Smellby.”
Melinda pushed her into the locker, absently closing the combination lock. When Shelby’s body was found, her lips were pale and peeling from dehydration.
With ten minutes left until the teacher's conference, Melinda headed toward the stairs and stopped when something brushed across her ear. Dry, flaking, and unmistakable.
Amelia Bowes-Foster is a Canadian making her home in the US. After focusing on professional writing for the past few years, she's attempting to stretch her creative muscles and recently published her first flash fiction story in Flash Fiction Magazine. She’s also a volunteer human interest writer for the Pet Cancer Foundation, a non-profit organization that provides research and resources for owners of pets with cancer. She loves her husband, her cats and her books.
Al's Final Wish
by
Chip Houser
Careful of his tubes, Jeanie lay down beside Al in his hospital bed.
Al went jogging every morning until a car hit him.
Jeanie thought he’d outlive her by a decade. Al always said he hoped they’d go together.
Hadn’t he really meant wished?
Jeanie wished the car hadn’t hit him.
Wished he wasn’t in a persistent vegetative state.
Wished she wasn’t alone.
Her wishes meant nothing.
Why hadn’t Al just wished for them to go together?
No matter, she would break convention for him. Happily.
She took a grenade from her purse, snuggled into Al, and pulled the pin.
Chip Houser's fiction has appeared in numerous publications, including Bourbon Penn, Podcastle, and Pulp Literature. In 2023, Red Bird Chapbooks published "Dark Morsels", collecting some of his micro- and flash fictions. Find links and more at chiphouser.com.
Best Read in a Single Breath
by
Chris Morris
I once discovered that I could hold my breath for just about as long as I could talk without stopping – timing myself again and again, I found that my lung capacity was unfortunately very small, and I could only last a few seconds, which is why I think that by the time I stop talking, it will all be over; you’ll stop thrashing around like this, and you’ll cease that annoying kicking and pushing, because you’re my twin, we’re the same, you can’t last much longer – not when my hands are gripped so tightly around your weak little throat.
Chris Morris is a writer from Dundee in Scotland. He has been published in Writing Magazine, and he has achieved 4th place in the final of NYC Midnight's 100-word challenge. When he's not writing, Chris teaches drum kit and percussion, works in the support for learning department of a high school, and spends every minute he can with his 10-year-old daughter.
For Crying Out Loud
by
Thomas Brodkin
Silence wakes her. The crying has stopped. She’s alone in their bed.
An odd sound beckons. She investigates. Her eyes struggle to adjust to the light. She almost slips in the crimson.
Plunger in hand, her husband works to dislodge a tiny, severed leg from the toilet.
“What are you doing?!”
He turns, caught off guard, drenched in blood.
“You’ve got to cut him into smaller parts,” she explains.
Another cry comes from the darkness.
“I’ll take care of her — you finish him.”
“Hey, you’ll need this.”
She takes the knife.
“Mama’s coming,” she says, hurrying to the twins' room.
Thom Brodkin’s short stories have circled the globe. From being featured in a Swedish textbook to a Moroccan anthology, to a Japanese Zine, readers worldwide enjoy his relatable characters and transcendent themes that warm the soul. One of his works has been recently adapted to the screen, featured in recent short film competitions. A regular on the international competition circuit, Thom’s stories often are recognized from as far away as Australia. He resides in Central Virginia with his family and beloved miniature schnauzers, Sugar and Milo.
On Board
by
Andrea Tillmanns
Of course, there were no ghosts. Therefore, the old, half-ruined ship that had appeared out of nowhere on the yacht’s radar couldn’t be a ghost ship. And so Christoph didn’t even consider it a test of courage when he rowed over to the other ship and climbed up the hull to board it.
His friends stayed behind and waited. They thought they heard voices from the ship, then finally, a muffled scream. After a moment’s hesitation, they also boarded the ship to rescue their friend. But there was no one there, only skeletons, one of which still looked very fresh.
Andrea Tillmanns lives in Germany and works full-time as a university lecturer. She has been writing poetry, short stories and novels in various genres for many years. More information can be found on her website www.andreatillmanns.de.
Kheti's Folly
by
Gary Thomson
The priest Kheti eases linen wrap around the mummy of Sekhemre, Master embalmer.
“Eternal House awaits, old fraudster. Charms and prayers failed you, no? Can’t cheat death, like cheating your clients.” He aligns Sekhemre’s legs and torso. “Sawdust in cavities, when they paid for linen.”
Kheti places his jackal-headed Anubis mask over Sekhemre’s head. “Calling card for greeter, Osiris.”
“You will forgive my shorting you expensive myrrh and cassia? Our associates haven’t noticed, and your… contribution… pays my gambling arrears twice over.”
He puts his hand on Sekhemre’s chest.
Stifles a scream as the mummy’s fingers drum along the table.
The author frightens himself with horror micros and short fiction at home in Ontario. For sanctuary he riffs blues and Beatles on his Hohner harmonica, and reads medieval themed whodunits. His work has appeared in various outlets, including 53 Word Stories, ScribesMICRO and DDReview.
Tickles So Good
by
Bruce Carrington
The “funny pill” in my last drink was consensual, you know. Between the dimples on his pretty face and the urge to get back at my cheating ex, the promise of a wild night was exactly what I wanted.
Now, in his basement, he’s still such a gentleman, offering to free me from the cold, steel chain at my ankle. He smiles, his teeth pink with my meat.
My mind high as a kite, and everything still perfectly consensual, as he starts chewing the flesh from my calf again. And I can’t help but laugh at how much it tickles.
Bruce Carrington is an emerging writer who draws on over a decade of firsthand experience as an intelligence professional and crime investigator. He specializes in crime-dramas that blend the complex realities of the criminal underworld with a literary approach to character.
Devil's Number
by
Cailey Hart
*ring ring*
I roll over in bed, searching for my phone on the nightstand. The bright screen blinds me; I turn away.
I accept the call and bring the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” I whisper.
One second passes, two, three, four.
“Hello?” I check if the call is still ongoing. I bring the cellphone to my ear again.
“Who is this?”
A guttural scream erupts through the speaker. The static cry repeats for a minute before the line is disconnected.
I cover my mouth and stare at the screen in absolute horror.
It was my voice screaming.
Cailey Hart is a graduate from the University of North Alabama. She's had poetry published in The Phoenix, WILDsound Writing Festival, and The Sucarnochee Review. She's currently in the process of writing two mystery novels.