Looking around and over your shoulder.
Horror | Micro Fiction | Round Up
This month I’m doing #Spooktober over on Instagram. I’ve challenged myself to share a microfiction every day. I’m also sharing the highlights of the week in my Friday Fiction email for you to enjoy, also.
The Goodbye
Mourners threw flowers and some dirt onto the surface of the coffin as it was lowered into the ground.
They couldn’t hear the screams or the knocking.
Doors
“Only superstitious people worry about wardrobe doors,” she said.
And that was the last I saw of that babysitter.
Spooning
‘Mm, that’s nice,’ I said sleepily as I felt arms wrap around me.
Then I remembered I lived alone.
Down, Boy
The dog jumped onto the bed and started licking my face.
When I rolled over, I saw that my actual dog was whining and backing into a corner.
#Spooktober from around Instagram.
Here is We All Rot In Our Own Way by
Spooktober from around Substack:
Revenant by
The war was a century past, but the trenches still whispered. Anndrais had come as a tourist, a historian. He found the rusted helmet in a small, local museum. He was alone in the room, and, against his better judgement, he put it on.
The world dissolved into thunder and screams. Frozen mud, the tang of blood, shit, and piss. The frantic gasping for air that wasn’t laced with mustard gas. He was Private Atkins, bayonet fixed, waiting for the whistle.
Anndrais tore the helmet off, gasping in the silent room. But the chill remained in his bones. And on the wind, he heard it, a faint whistle, calling him over the top.
Coming soon: The Shade In the Sands
Last week, I announced that my first short story collection will be released on Friday 5th December 2025. Gothic Egyptomania is how I’d sum it up, with a sprinkling of black comedy. Here’s a little excerpt from the feature story, The Shade In The Sands:
“They have a French chef now.” She seemed displeased, looking around to make sure the French chef was nowhere in sight, “And I shan’t be eating any frogs legs.”
“Be thankful it isn’t an Egyptian chef. They’d have you eating camels.”
Minnie and I looked at each other, Minnie bursting into laughter. Judith grimaced and drank some more wine. “I’m quite serious,” I said. “It’s just as usual as beef would be at home.”
“I couldn’t,” Minnie said, shaking her head. “They are so sweet.”
“So are cows when you really look at them.”
“Perhaps I’ll only eat fish from now on,” she said. “What else do they eat here?”
“Oh, not much different from anywhere else. Pastries, fruit, bread, stews and meats… is that disappointment I see, Mrs Wainwright?”
She blushed and laughed again. “No! Absolutely not. Although I am fascinated by savages and their practices.”
“She’s been reading Robinson Crusoe,” Judith said.
“Ah, I see,” I said. “Well, you won’t find much savagery here. There are too many fine museums and libraries in Egypt.”
“Speaking of which,” Judith interposed, “there is an unwrapping tomorrow at the Cairo museum. Would you like to come?”
“An unwrapping?” Minnie asked, raising an eyebrow.
Judith nodded. “Yes. One of the professors is unwrapping a mummy. They’re very popular events. I always seem to miss them when they occur in London. I might have more luck here.”
Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed any of these microfictions, be sure to let me know with a like, share or a comment so others can discover my work, too. !
If you really like my fiction, I currently have three novels out in the world. You can see them here.
Hanna, Down Boy was a dandy. Good job. Good micros are not easy. - Jim
That 'We Rot in Our Own Way,' was creepy as hell. Love it and the title. Thanks for sharing.