I write #Paranormal and #Horror #Fiction and #TrueCrime. Join my Substack at https://www.michelebardsley.com or visit my website at https://www.michelefreemanwrites.com I adore #Zombies, #YarnArts, and #Chocolate. Pronouns: She/Her.
Itty Bitty Horror Stories
Zombies can't climb trees, so I'm stuck in this tall pine staring down at three stinking corpses clawing at the bark. I look to the west, at the mountain's snowy peak, and realize I'm never gonna make it to the safety zone. It's the end for me.
Halloween Hunt “But why can’t I trick or treat, mama?” asked my littlest girl. “It’s not safe, honey. Not this year.” I looked up at the darkening sky and realized we didn’t have much time left. It was stupid, this new game of the townsfolk. Using the one night my children could blend in with the other kids and have a little fun.
The barn door creaks as I open it. Smells of rotting hay and manure greet my nostrils when I enter. Gray, old, dying—the wood building, the land on which it squats, had been my father’s pride. The farm—the one I hated, the one I left so long ago— Memories are like bits of exploding glass: sharp, insistent, painful. The hay pile. I laugh. Oh Anne, where are you now?
Sundays at Granny's
The creaking of Granny’s rocker doesn’t really bother me. But her wheezing sounds do. Heeesshwho. Heeesshwho. Then she starts that load of doo-doo about her funeral. One Sunday a month I get to see her and all she does is go on and on about death and dying and how Great Uncle Albert embarrassed everyone at Great Aunt Celia’s funeral by making bodily noises throughout the eulogy.
May I hold your hand? It's been so long since I've touched someone who offers kindness instead of pain. Your hand is warm. Soft. Please forgive me if I squeeze too hard. It's nice, even for a little while, to connect with a human being who gives a damn.
The Organ Fairy
You know about the tooth fairy, right? Well, I’m the organ fairy. And your bill is due. Don’t look so shocked. You signed the paperwork. I got it right here. Says you offered up your...liver. Seriously? You traded your liver to attend a Kanye West concert? I could understand maybe giving up a kidney or even a testicle. You got two of those. Oh. You wanted front row. Well, to each their own, I guess.
I'm Your Friendly Neighborhood Merry Makeup Representative
Hi, there! My name is Ellie Evers! We met at the HOA barbecue last week. I live right behind you on Maple Street. Natalie, right? And your husband’s name is John. I have a memory for names and faces. Are you okay, honey? You look pale.
The Little Girl in the Pink Dress
Her tiny body had been wrapped in three white trash bags, tucked inside a black suitcase, and discarded in a pasture not far from Interstate 45. Hidden for months in her makeshift coffin, the little girl in the pink dress lay on the side of a dusty Texas road.