Folk Horror
-
Chapter 2 | Wolves Among Us
The gate swung inward with the whir of an electric motor. Ahead, Wulzhan loomed larger, of a piece with the landscape as much as the trees and mountains themselves. The SUV slowed to a stop before the entrance, and the three travelers disembarked, two craning their necks to gawk at their destination, while the third… Read more
-
Chapter 7 | le dessert
Griottes noires, pitted and poached in a bitter reduction, served with tonka bean créme, over charred brioche. That’s some story,” John said, scraping the bottom of his metal bowl and eyeing his host’s whiskey jug. Kit, attentive to his guest’s needs, nudged the jug over with the toe of one boot, not bothering to uncork… Read more
-
Chapter 6 | le fromage
Cendre de Sainte-Maure, finished over an open flame, served with levain, honey, and fig jam. I had to wait for sundown to find out what Alys had in mind. She said night would be better suited to her work, although she refused to explain what that work might be. I was to learn soon enough.… Read more
-
Chapter 5 | le salade
Chicory hearts, stripped and bittered, served with blood oranges, walnuts, Bleu d’Auvergne, and a sherry vinaigrette. The storm raged for two days, and Alys and I holed up in the mission, learning the contours of each other’s bodies and souls. Alys had been foresighted enough to bring food and water and even a little whiskey,… Read more
-
The Kiss
399 words | Flash Fiction | Horror/Folk Horror The baby’s cry wakes me in the night. Not the I’m hungry, feed me, feed me, wails. These are different— high-pitched, almost frantic, and edged with something that might have been fear. Skrrrtch. Skkkkreeee. Skkkrrrr. (What’s that noise?) Heart pounding, mouth dry, bare feet slapping bare wood, I… Read more
-
The Well
407 words | Horror | Flash Fiction “Don’t go down there, Bran!” Willa cried. “I’m the man of the house now, Ma said.” Bran shot back. Willa grabbed his arm, trying with all her strength to pull her brother back. If he went there, he’d be lost, like the rest of them. “The lights will… Read more
-
Chapter 4 | le plat principal
Cuisse de Nymphe Émue, deglazed and reduced, served in white sauce with wild rice pilaf, paired with petits pois à la Française. It was autumn 1848. After my pa’s death, things changed. Without his income, we were forced to sell off our land a piece at a time. Even so, it was not enough. I… Read more
-
The Hungry Gods
Danu tossed beneath the heavy furs. Sleep would not come, no matter how hard she clawed at it. The sounds of her parents’ coupling came to her over the crackle of the central fire, the slap of flesh on flesh, the husky breathing, her father’s grunt as he spent himself and rolled off her mother.… Read more
-
Chapter 3 | le poisson
Local whitefish poached in its own juices, served with pommes vapeur, braised fennel, and beurre blanc. I would not see much of Alys Lawless again until the spring of 1842. I was twelve, and my pa figured the time had come to begin my studies in earnest. Of course, those lessons mostly revolved around what… Read more
-
Chapter 2 | l’entree
Lemon-poppy cake, accompanied by two fingers of gin. The first time I saw Alys Lawless was the summer of 1838, and with the drought, it seemed that the town of Burnt Creek might live up to its name. I remember the grass, higher than my head at eight years old, sere and bowed almost double… Read more