Storybook Corner Prompt – July


Welcome to Storybook Corner, a monthly flash fiction prompt held on the 21st of each and every month. This post will give you this month’s prompt.

Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to write a story based on the prompt below.

The goal is to end up with a story with a beginning, middle, and end that falls anywhere between 300 and 500 words in length.

Make every word count, but don’t fret too much if you can’t hit the word count. Sometimes stories refuse to be constrained. Sometimes those are the only stories worth telling.

Try to read as many of the other stories as you can in the time you have available. We all work hard on our stories and like to share our work with as many readers as possible.

This month’s prompt will be the following image:

There used to be a building around this chimney, but it's long gone. The chimney is all that's left.

There used to be a building around this fireplace/chimney, but it’s long gone. This is all that’s left.

Happy writing, minions.

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Goat Head

These guys originally appeared in the story Friends are Important. They wanted to come back for another. Who am I to turn them down?

I know I haven’t been around much, I even missed Six on the Sixth this month. Sorry about that. I actually did write stories for the last three or so FF prompts, but I didn’t post them because I’ve been in a bit of a writing funk and they just came out looking like garbage to me.

Anyway, on to the words you actually came for. Here’s my story paired with my photo. Thanks for using it as a prompt Rochelle.


Goat Head

“Earl?” said the dog.

“Yes, Rufus?” said the frog.

“Why’s there a goat head in the corner?”

“That’s a relic from my Satanist days.” Earl grinned.

“You… were a Satanist?”

“Oh yeah. I was big into the whole ritual sacrifice of virgins scene.”

“That’s not a thing… is it?”

“No. I bought it at a garage sale. It spoke to me.”

“That’s a pretty weird thing to buy. You don’t even like hunting.”

“You should have seen me trying to carry that thing in here by myself. It was a riot.”

“I’m sure it was, Earl. I’m sure it was.”

Storybook Corner – June

IMG_20140222_145513Sebastian watched the manhole cover from under his newspaper blanket. Two nights in a row he’d seen something emerge from the tunnels beneath the park–of course, he’d been chin deep in a bottle of whiskey each night. He wondered if it would happen a third time. He’d forced himself to stay sober that day–not an easy feat for a man such as him.

The heavy, metal cover lifted into the air and slid across the cobblestone walkway. Sebastian shrank back into the protection of the newspapers draped over his body. He couldn’t remember exactly what he’d seen the other nights. Now that he wasn’t inebriated and he was about to see it again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to remember.

A hand–more claw than hand, really–slipped through the opening and hoisted a beast from out of the bowels of the park. It’s long crocodilian snout sniffed at the air. It stood up on its hind legs in the pale light of the arc lamp  just down the path. Its massive tail flicked back and forth along the ground behind it. The heavily scaled creature bent at the waist and slid the cover back into place with a single hand.

Sebastian’s body shook uncontrollably under the pile of newspaper. The beast sniffed the air and turned its massive head toward the sound. Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut and waited to be devoured. After what he imagined was at least ten minutes he opened his eyes again. The creature had disappeared.

Sebastian sat up and the newspapers rained to the ground from his park bench. He focused his eyes on the manhole cover. He couldn’t help wondering if he’d imagined the entire encounter. Years of alcohol abuse has lasting repercussions on the mind. One day sober isn’t even to get out from beneath the shadow of alcoholism.

He sat on the bench for hours pondering whether or not the creature was real, at the same time wishing he had something to drink. With dawn approaching a rustling in the bushes to his right demanded his attention. The beast pushed through with a bloody, unconscious woman drapped across its shoulder. It trudged toward the entrance to its lair and Sebastian stood up to get a better look.

The creature pulled the manhole cover aside, and grabbed the woman by the waist.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Sebastian yelled before he could stop himself.

The crocodilian humanoid looked at the puny homeless man. It dropped the woman through the hole, and the corners of its long mouth pushed upward it what appeared to be a grin before it followed her in. Once again the hand came through the hole, this time to slid the cover back to its rightful place.

Sebastian ran. His intention was to go to the police, but he ended up at the nearest liquor store, waiting outside until they opened so he could use what little cash he had on something that would help him forget what he’d seen.


This Way Darkness by Latashia Figueroa



stories collection, THIS WAY DARKNESS by Latashia Figueroa

Linda pretended not to notice these things. But the day I found my wife hiding

from Jenny under the kitchen sink, shaking uncontrollably, I knew she could pretend no


They had been playing hide-and-seek. When Linda hid in a closet, she heard

Jenny call her as she searched the house but her voice was not her own. Linda described

the voice as something not human. She spent the rest of the day hiding from our child

until I came home.

We sent Jenny to a doctor, a specialist. His findings: there was absolutely nothing

wrong with our child. She was extremely intelligent and that was the probable cause for

her acting out. In short, with all his degrees and years of study, the only diagnosis the

doctor could come up with was “She’s bored.”

I would not allow Linda to be alone with Jenny again. I worked from home.

Linda was a nervous wreck and the child knew we feared her.

We began to lock our bedroom door. Linda held me so tight I thought my ribs

would crack. She jumped at every little sound and, to be fair, so did I.

We could hear Jenny’s bedroom door open; the pitter patter of her tiny feet

running across the hardwood floor. We could hear her breathing heavy, right outside

our door. The doorknob would often turn. And then we could hear her run away, her

bedroom door closing gently.

It was all too much for my Linda. She cried herself to sleep nearly every night.

“This is my fault, Robert. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

I tried soothing her. I stroked Linda’s hair the way she liked until I could feel her

body finally relax in my arms.

“She’s going to kill us,” Linda said before she drifted into sleep.

2014-06-05 18.54.57

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Anthology Time

Good evening, my dearest minion.

As you may have guessed from the title of this post I’ve got a story in an small anthology that has just been released.

Do be a good little minion and grab yourself and a dozen of your closest friends some copies. You are addicted to my writing aren’t you? What’s that? You’re not? Lucky for you we have a pill for that. Unlucky for you it isn’t a pill of the oral variety. (Hint: it’s a suppository.) Even more unlucky for the minions who have been selected to administer said pill.

Now that we’ve got the unpleasantries out of the way, go buy a copy (or thirty) of said anthology. (Just click on the big ol’ image below and you’ll be taken to the Amazon page. For you paranoid types there’s a link below the image too.)


Murder: Horror Flash Fiction Stories

Happy reading, dear minion.



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