Today Ellie Potts is back to share some tidbits from some of the stories in her book Flight of Delusions! This is a nice little inclusion as we wrap up Women in Horror month, since a lot of these stories fall into one dark category or another. If these bits are any indication, this is a really fascinating read.
The Crying Stranger
A luminous glow radiated around the silent figure. Her white skin untainted by the sun’s harsh touch, as her eyes twinkled like fiery green emeralds. Her straight calf length auburn hair flowed around her like a red veil. Her natural crimson lips moved as she sang to herself. The song seemed so right on this dark dreary night.
She walked through the darkness unafraid of anything around her. She had no worries. The millions of stars burned brightly above her small head. Her feet bare amongst the new spring grass made her feel almost alive. She stopped. Bending her head slightly to the left, she listened. The small night sounds were so crisped to her elfin ears. She listened through the sounds until she heard it. The call.
Bobbie found himself hiding in the dark, noises and screams all around him. His heart hammered hard in his chest. Think you idiot, he said. He moved the plastic aside for a small peek under the table he hid under. The sun had started to set about half an hour ago. The sight of everyone tripping or jumping over the dead bodies seemed almost unnerving. He was so glad the acid trip was over.
Two other people slipped under the table. He moved to the very edge, scared. They too were frightened by the sight of him. No one said anything for some time. They just stared at each other while the screaming and the scuff of shoes passed by. A loud shriek filled the air, which made him think of Sky. Bobbie tried to think back to how he had gotten here. Fucking weird day.
Eating the flesh of another is said to steal their essence to become more of what I am. It’s a half truth, I have become more powerful but in a way that is making me less human more animal. I don’t mind it really; the animal part is a relief from the human in me who finds it disturbing to eat a fellow person.
The Native Americans call creatures like me Windigos. I went to the library one evening after work and looked it up. Again half truths, is all I found. I know what I am or rather what I’ve done and need. There it says a person who gives themselves freely to that of the Windigo will go into the forest for seven days and fast and sacrifice themselves to the spirit of the Windigo. That isn’t what happened to me.
May you walk through the raining pools of blood, and dance on the guts of your victims.
The words floated to the top of her head. She had been given a job, a good job, a job she knew she could really do. A job she had been dreaming for since she could remember. Remember since when? Lucifer had explained her duties, and she planned on doing her very best. To show not only Lucifer, but his other head-honchos that he chose well.
Raining pools of blood.
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