Horror Scribes

Friday’s Child winner

by Sherry Morris One day Mommy and Daddy brought home a baby. They said it was ours and was joining the family. I took a look. It was small and bald with a wrinkled face and yuck in its eye.... Continue Reading →


Thursday’s Child winner

by O J Gwyne Struggling along a wind-blasted moorland road, a ragged little girl clutches a faded blue shawl over fair wispy hair, its frayed ends clutched tightly beneath the chin of her small defeated face. She is alone. “Sweet... Continue Reading →

Wednesday’s Child and overall winner

by Barbara Hughes-Moore She did not move for days as the spider spun a gossamer prison around her. She did not speak. She did not blink. She barely breathed. Many thought her mind was sick; they spoke of depression, disassociation;... Continue Reading →

Tuesday’s Child winner

by Sue Dawes She boarded the train at dusk, using darkness as her cloak. The carriage, with its sawdust-spattered floor and thick smell of cattle, was warmer than the streets. She was already in labour, and under her black gown,... Continue Reading →

Monday’s Child winner

by Silvia Di Bonaventura When she was born, birds stopped still in the sky. When she was born, the sunshine kissed her hair on fire. The birds sang her name. Monday. Monday meant grace, the only kid born in town... Continue Reading →

The Pirate

by Rob Marenghi So here we are - in a damp cell that he ordered to be built. I hear waves pounding, wood creaking, drunken shouts. I look at the filthy bowl in the corner, the stains on the walls... Continue Reading →

Too Many Cooks

By Carolyn Ward The kitchen was fragrant and hot, but the windows wouldn’t open. Cleo swiped the knife on the carrots, decapitating her sick uncle a hundred times over, a grin tucked secretly inside her mouth. He had paid heavily... Continue Reading →

The Wall

by Carolyn Ward ‘Fallen woman, your God has forsaken you,’ hissed the Bishop. She bit her lip beneath the hood, and the manacles rattled as her thin wrists shook. She pictured Matthew. In another life, another time; maybe they could... Continue Reading →


by Dawn Lowe I time-travelled to Dublin with my hair tucked under a wig, makeup removed, breasts wrapped flat. Dressed in breeches and a frilly shirt—18th Century menswear—I walked to the old maternity hospital and walked inside. “I’m a physician,”... Continue Reading →

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