A mother’s love by Sam.Simon

Birth by Angela4 on DeviantArt.com

Her face contorted.

Her husband encouraged, “Breathe! The doctor, “Push!”

She howled. Blood sprayed the doctor.

A nurse shrieked, “It’s coming out hands first … not hands… what are those?!”

Her husband fainted.

She felt calm. She hadn’t dreamed it, that night when that skinless horde tore their way inside her.

Blood pooled beneath her as their spawn tore its way out.

She reached between her legs, grabbing skinless claws, and yanked.

It snarled, snapping at her face.

“My child,” she cooed.

She bit through her baby’s throat, bleeding out with the coppery closure, sweet as nectar, on her tongue.

Vengeance is Mine by Carlos Soca

Cracked by bmiles on DeviantArt.com

You gunned it through the crosswalk.
Sixteen hours on a ventilator so she could be spare parts for other parents’ kids.
Doubt you registered the impact; tracks didn’t swerve or slow down.
Outside your house, eyeing the gun that took her place in the car beside me, I imagine how long I’ll take.
They say there’s only two stories, one about love and one about revenge. I only read the Good Book and don’t worry I’ll see you in hell when I’m done.
What I’m going to do to you is biblical, and that makes me God.

Not my argument by The Despot

Blood, Blood, Blood… by remains on DeviantArt.com

You drag me into an argument that doesn’t even exist.

Fists start flying. Two on six.

You pop Frat Boy’s nose. He’s down.

Wide Shoulders charges. I trip him, teeth meeting table. He’s down.

Big Chuck throwing knives, inches from your nose.

You bing him with a glass mug. He’s down.

Tweedle dee and Tweedle dum vamoose.

Only this behemoth left. Mohawk. Arms like pythons.

Grabs a bottle. SMASH! Jagged edges, slashing.

“Down boy!”

He jabs. I pop his elbow. The bottle jams his neck, fountaining blood. He’s down, down.

“Whatda we do now?” you ask.

“I was never here.”

Don’t mess with Fluffy by Austin Malcome

Battle Hamster Goes South by ursulav on DeviantArt.com

The hamster leaped from his cage and sank his teeth into Harold’s neck. Harold screamed, and tried to pull Fluffy away.

“Damn you, Fluffy!” Harold screamed. “I’ll teach you to bite me, you fuzzy bastard!”

He ran to his gun locker and pulled out a shotgun.

Fluffy’s eyes widened.

“Hey, wait man,” he muttered through a mouthful of neck. “Let’s talk about this!”

“I’ll see you in hell!” Harold replied.

He pointed the gun at Fluffy and fired.

Fluffy jumped out of the way. Harold shot himself in the face.

The hamster packed his suitcase and left.

Point, Smertz by The Despot

office worker by ded-kat on DeviantArt.com

“Smertz!”

Oliver Smertz finished sharpening his pencil, then turned casually. Five temps in monogrammed Polos blocked the door. Wendell from H.R. stepped forward, pointing. “That’s my pencil!”

Oliver sighed. “Your point?”

Sneering, Wendell flicked the tip off Oliver’s pencil. “My point.”

Oliver turned away, placing his pencil back in the sharpener. Grinding and woody incense followed.

Grabbing Oliver’s collar, Wendell snarled, “Defying me is pointless!”

Oliver spun, shoving the No. 2 up Wendell’s nostril. Wendell screamed. Blood spurted as the graphite penetrated deeper. Temps scattered. Wendell collapsed, shuddering on the linoleum.

Oliver plucked a pencil from Wendell’s pocket protector. “Point taken.”

 

Respect Your Elders by The Despot

Laughter, the best medicine by VaggelisFragiadakis on DeviantArt.com

The doorbell rang. Betsy shuffled to the door. As she opened it, rank smoke billowed inward. On her doorstep, a paper bag burned.

“Oh dear.” She stomped on it. The bag burst, smearing her Dr. Scholl’s in dog poo.

Laughter erupted from behind some bushes.

“Dadgum neighborhood boys,” said Betsy, wiping her shoes with a tea towel.

The next day, the doorbell rang. Betsy shuffled to the door and opened it. An open pit had replaced the doormat. She peered down the hole. Two boys wailed as spikes penetrated their intestines.

“Respect your elders, scoundrels!” said Betsy, closing the trapdoor.

Let Me Whip Somethin’ Up by Pandora’s Key

Redneck Champion by paulorocker on DeviantArt.com

The sounds of whipping and torn flesh snapped in the dry air. The sun beat down upon the ranch, making a furnace of the countryside.

Bubba slapped a fly on his arm, smearing its entrails. He sniffed and licked his hand. “Mah turn,” Bubba grunted.

Bubba took the whip from Andy and went at it. A trail of red ran down the tree stump. Wind began to howl.

Lisa stepped out from the farm house. “Ya’ll whippin’ ‘melons agayn?”

Thunder rolled in the distance. Lightning flashed.

Lisa whistled, “Ya’ll sher whipped up a storm this taam!”

Bubba spat. “Darn tootin’.”

Baby Bron by The Despot

Cudgel by QueenGwenevere on DeviantArt.com

Twenty years of suckling drove Mama to abandon Baby Bron. He crawled from giant crib, club-sized rattle in hand, diaper reeking. He bludgeoned and ate the cat. Crawled into the street, fed on street dogs.

Urchins beat him until he snatched one. Crying “Mama,” he hugged the whelp with thick limbs, the bones cracking.

Slumdogs wailed, “Giant killer baby!”

Soldiers came with spears, poked at Baby Bron. He sobbed and toddled toward them, swinging his massive rattle. Spears and skulls shattered. One guard backed to the wall.

“Mama,” whimpered Baby Bron.

“Mama,” cried the guard, disappearing in a chunky embrace.

This is Bullshit by Tim Cross

Matador by Darksilvania

Look at all these people, cheering and waving for little old me. What an amazing day. I can’t wait to tell my kids.
Ouch. That fucking hurt. What did you poke me for? Right. I’ll fucking show you. Now you’re in the shit big time. You’re not getting away with this.
Stop jumping around, you pussy. Quit waving that red thing. It’s annoying. Stay still and I’ll fucking have you.
Ouch, stop poking me!
So tired. So dizzy. Can’t see anything. Is that blood in my eyes? Knees buckling.
Are you kidding? A sword?!
This is bullshit!

Horns Afire by Brittany Pomales

Hell bull by Agusia1986 on DeviantArt.com

The matador shielded himself with the red cape. Fancy footwork wasn’t going to win against this bull. Horns ablaze the bull huffed, grinding his front hooves against the dirt. It charged head down, and set fire to the fabric. The flame singed the matador’s skin. Sizzles and screams echoed against the arena walls as the smell of burning flesh filled the air. When the opponent was nothing but bones the bull raised the skeleton onto his horns to the applause of the audience and walked back to the gates he came from, the gates of Hell.