Hey, it’s a new post! Also, it’s #Writetober!

Posted: October 6th, 2016 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: | 11 Comments »

October is my favorite month of the year. Not only is it when the weather seems to shake off the oppressive heat of summer in exchange for the bite of fall, its also happens to be when I got married and, of course, the Halloween season. And if fall is my favorite season, Halloween is by far my favorite holiday.

The last couple of years, its been hard for me to get into the Halloween spirit. But thanks to Delilah S. Dawson (pointed out to me by Ken Lowery), I’m feeling a little like my old boney self again. Delilah has started what she calls #Writetober, a kind of companion/response to #Inktober, but instead of encouraging artists to draw something every day, she’s releasing writing prompts and encouraging writers to come up with flash fiction on Twitter that will fit in five tweets.

I’ve obviously coming late to this party, and I doubt I’ll be able to participate every day, but it sounds like fun and I’m going to do my best to join in (flabby as these particular writing muscles are). In that spirit, here’s something I wrote that doesn’t follow any of the prompts so far, but was inspired by one anyway. Close enough, right? And don’t worry, the story is shorter than this intro.


It awoke with a start. A sudden awareness where there had been nothing.

Fingers. On its skin.

Exploring, tracing skin more like hide, tanned and taut. Then hands, dragging it out from its cupboard, a hole in a wall identical to dozens of others edging into darkness. It had been untouched for what seemed like forever. It resisted the temptation to open its eyes.

A grunt was testament to its dead weight. It felt itself lifted, almost dragged, to thump and lay flat on a long, wooden table. Electricity ran through it as a finger mapped its crooked, tortured spine. Sinew and connective tissue flooded with forgotten blood. It sighed.

A hand reached between its dry and yielding folds, splitting it open, groping at what was hidden inside. Musty air flowed over uncovered creases.

Then a voice, human and otherworldly, reads its fleshy, tattooed pages.

“Iä! Iä! Cthulhu fhtagn …!”