Here at the school where I teach, the Slam Poetry/Literary Magazine Club has signs up asking the students to write three-sentence horror stories. I thought I’d try my hand at it.
Clarice folded her hands primly. Everything was ready. All that remained was for James to take a bite.
I mean, it kind of works, right? There’s a sense of dread there, a sense of anticipation. I think I can do better.
“There’s no such thing as monsters under the bed,” father said as he turned off the light.
“He must be right,” little Johnny said to himself.
“Yes, he must,” replied something.
Let’s try another one:
Charlene cackled. It was time. She lit the fire under the cauldron and waited.
She’d lived in fear for eleven years. Always looking over her shoulder. She should have done that today, too.
James’s hands shook, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. His victim already hung from the rack. It was just a matter now of turning the screws.
What do you think? Have a three-sentence horror story of your own? Share them in the comments or tweet them at me @XEYeti with the hashtag #3sentencehorrorstory.
The match was going fine until the demon luchadores showed up.
Big whoop. Who among us doesn’t have cloven hooves, hmm?
It’s the Kid versus Alyssa for all the marbles!
Another doodle of the Kid.
Carlos felt pretty confident in his beach volleyball skills, until the Devil rose up to block his spike.
Breaking things down is not always easy, nor is it always advisable. Dismantling an atomic accelerator was rash, but that didn’t stop the alien from taking it apart with his mind to find out how it worked.
Another character from the secret project. She’s a flint napper and a devil with her spear.
Wood Kid isn’t great with mornings. He needs a big cuppa to get going.
It’s October, which means it’s Inktober time! Every day this month, I’ll be posting an inked image for fun. Below is Day 1, an image of the Kid from my new secret project.
I have a new book out!
Well, not really. There is a new book out with my work in it, but you’ll have to read Danish to make heads or tails of it.
See, a few months back, I took on a series of commissions drawing comics about children in Denmark living with dyslexia. It took me a few months to complete all 20 comics, but it was a fun and unique experience. I’m glad I got to participate in it, though I wish there was an English version of the book available.
At the start of each day,
Greet the sun.
Give it salutation
And the renewed promise you’ll blow it up
Just as soon as that fusion bomb is ready.
Take time every day,
Even if it’s just a brief moment,
and enjoy the sensation.
You never know when the nerve gas canisters
You installed in the vents
Will kick in and rob you of the opportunity
Ignore the passage of time.
What will be,
In the fulsomeness of time.
You are on no one else’s schedule.
Your doomsday device
Will be ready when it’s ready.
At the end of each day,
Give thanks to those
Who toil in your name
For your glory,
The ones who will die
As cannon fodder
When the hero bursts in, guns blazing,
Determined to end your reign of terror.