100-word nightmares from 13 Texas horror authors

Credit: Shutterstock / Romolo Tavani

It’s almost Halloween, boils, ghouls and gender-neutral creatures of the night. And if there’s one thing about Halloween everybody loves, it’s small, fun-sized pieces of candy.

But why stop at tiny candy? What else can we shrink? Could we shrink children? What about a man? What about ourselves? What about … hear us out … what about horror stories? Could we shrink those too, do you think?

Trick question, sucka. We already did.

On the five-year anniversary of the Current’s 100-word horror feature that ran in 2020, we asked 13 San Antonio- and Austin-area writers to conjure up stories that clock in at exactly 100 words (including the title). And that’s what they delivered.

Do us a favor and read them out loud to children as they fist your cauldrons for candy on Halloween night. Their parents will love you.

Holes

By L.P. Hernandez

Old Man Jones was known for two things. Digging holes and giving out full candy bars for Halloween.

“Trick or treat!” I’d say.

“Heathen,” he’d reply, dropping chocolate into my open sack.

Went on for years like that. His backyard looked like the surface of the moon. Treasure, he’d say to anyone asking what the holes were for.

“My stomach hurts bad,” Jenny said. My trick or treat days were over, but hers were just starting. I noticed the wrapper.

“Old Man Jones, huh? He call you a heathen when he dropped it?”

“No. He called me a treasure.”

L.P. Hernandez writes horror and speculative fiction, including Stargazers and No Gods Only Chaos. He co-owns the indie press Sobelo Books.

Who’s Got the Salt?

By Jess Hagemann

I search the pantry, the cupboards, the counters: no salt. The spell book says I need salt. There’s baking soda. Will Clabber Girl suffice? Shrugging, I tip some in. Stir. Say the magic words. Next: Three liters of innocent blood. Hmm. I wouldn’t call them “innocent,” but between the two of them, they should have enough. Excited to see it work, I stalk up the stairs to their bedroom. Consider the sleeping faces of the little snots I’m babysitting. In the moonlight, their skin is pale as salt. But not as pale as it will be.

Austin novelist Jess Hagemann writes best on extended solo retreats, so she’s building one (open to other writers!) in Maine. More at lincolnretreat.com.

Listen to My Walls!

By Miguel Villa

The noise is deafening. I can’t think straight, can’t focus on my work. So many things to do I write them down on sticky notes. I start working and the noise starts up again. I ask my neighbor over to listen, but it goes away. They must think I’m losing it. Am I losing it? WHY DO THEY KEEP POUNDING ON THE WALLS? I decide to go over and see for myself. I knock on the door, then walk in. I see it, crawling along the walls … I get it. I start pounding on the walls too.

Miguel Villa is a failed podcast host trying his luck at writing horror comics and short stories. He likes horror movies and Ice Nine Kills.

The Cure

By Sanford Allen

Rats skittered through the moonlit chapel as Brother Edmund tended to the dying, blue boils blossoming on their necks and faces. Between rattling coughs, the villagers begged for salvation, but all he could offer was empty hope. Prayer and water from the communal well. Once he’d burned the bodies and no more of the sick crawled to the abbey steps, he opened his journal filled with careful notes about the sickness he’d brewed deep in the well. “At last,” he wrote, smiling and tilting back a sip from his wine goblet, “alone in a world purified of sin.”

Sanford Allen is author of the novel Deadly Passage and lots of scary short stories. Under another name, he edits an alt-weekly.

Y-INCISION

By Reneé Hunter Vasquez

She never believed in an afterlife because she couldn’t see or feel it for herself. But she could feel now that the table beneath her was cold. The sanitized air assaulting her nose. Gloved hands prodding and meticulously inspecting. The useless hunk of meat inside her skull was somehow still firing off cruel warnings of fear and pain. Warnings that the broken husk of her body simply could not heed. When the speculative conversation above her began, she could not contribute. When they scrubbed her down, she could not move. And when the cutting began, she could not scream.

Reneé Hunter Vasquez takes horror way too seriously. She co-hosts Pod Mortem: A Horror Podcast and writes scary stories. Follow her on socials @bloodandsmoke.

What I’ve Learned Since Crossing Over

By Celso Hurtado

Routine is important. I float around every night, slamming doors and moaning. It took practice to get the sound right, since I no longer have vocal cords and must manipulate the air, but I managed it.

I love being invisible. And watching. Once, a woman yelled, claiming she could see me.

“You must be a medium,” I said.

She denied it, the liar. So, I haunted her. That makes four hauntings total. A surprising tidbit about haunting someone … so much blood!

One more thing I’ve learned. Ghosts scream. In fact, my throat never stops hurting.

Celso Hurtado was born and raised in San Antonio. His first book, The Ghost Tracks, was praised by NPR and won an International Latino Book Award. The Devil’s Promise is his second novel.

At first, she was devastated about the pregnancy…

By Sloane Fitchett

But now? She was elated. She tenderly stroked her belly’s slope as she studied the dwindling supply of cans. When her family had first retreated to the bunker, they were certain they’d only be down there a month, two at most. How long could the sickness last? But now, nearly five months in, supplies were dangerously low. They were down to just cans of corn and beans.

The baby kicked her ribs and she smiled. “We can’t wait for you to be born!” In a few weeks, they’d feast on fresh meat.

Sloane Fitchett lives in San Antonio.

Slow Burn

By Susan Snyder

An odor of burning hair and flesh permeates my nostrils. Yet, I hardly notice because of the searing pain. The unbearable licks of flame char my back, legs and arms. I can’t escape the fire. There is no room to move.

I am keenly aware of the cremation process. After all, I am usually the one running this crematorium. I only went inside to fix it. Not to be trapped inside. This process takes two hours. At what point will I die? Please, soon.

Who locked this door? Who stands on the outside, laughing, while I’m burned alive?

Susan Snyder is an Austin-based Wonderland and Splatterpunk award nominee who writes horror fiction, poetry, non-fiction and satire. Every day is Halloween!

Daytime Violence

By Lesly Julien

I’m cursed.

You always come back, like a haunted doll.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve killed you.

I can’t help the intrusive visions of pouring gasoline all over you and setting you alight.

You cling to me.

To remind me of what I’ve done.

Just when I think I’m free. There you are again.

So the rage builds. My knuckles tighten.

I hate you for what you make me do.

I did not ask for this.

Why don’t I stop? Because the HOA won’t let me.

So I cut you. Again and again and again.

Lesly Julien is the indie comic writer of the spooky comedy Ghost Gauntlet, slapstick fantasy miniseries Savage Wizard, crime thriller miniseries Headcases as well as long-gestating horror drama Lost Lake.

RTO

By Richard Z. Santos

Mom died, which sucked, but what’s really unfortunate is she came back. Not a zombie, vampire or vicious thing like in that book with the misspeeled title, but like herself. When she returned to work she didn’t notice her photo on the breakroom fridge or the gaping mouths. She scared the new girl out of her desk and started replying to emails. The quality of her work was, well, fine. After battling traffic home, she sighed, turned on the TV, and sat on the couch. She ordered delivery. I asked why she came back. She said, “This is better.”

Richard Z. Santos’ debut novel, Trust Me, was a finalist for the Writer’s League of Texas Book Awards and was named one of the best debuts of the year by Crime Reads. He’s the editor of the acclaimed collection A Night of Screams: Latino Horror Stories.

He Said/She Said

By Lori Michelle Booth

He said, “How come you didn’t cook dinner?”

She said, “I’m sorry.”

He said, “Why can’t you clean up anything?”

She said, “I’m sorry.”

He said, “Why didn’t you make that bill payment on time?”

She said, “I’m sorry?”

He said, “Why didn’t you do your hair nice?”

She said softly, “I’m sorry.”

He said, “Why would you want to do that instead of be with me?”

She said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

He said, “Why can’t you ever do anything right?”

She said in a whisper, “I’m sorry.”

He cried to her tombstone, “My love, I’m sorry.”

Lori Michelle Booth is the quiet half of the Ghoulish Books enterprise. In the evening, she is Mrs. Lori, dance teacher extraordinaire. She spends most of her time being surrounded by costumes, books, formatting projects and barking dogs.

A Message from the Principal

By Clayton Hackett

Dear Parents/Guardians,

This is to inform you about an incident that occurred on campus today. An unauthorized individual breached the perimeter and was able to access multiple classrooms during the educational period. The individual was armed with military-grade firearms.

We are proud to say that the District’s rapid response tactical unit was able to successfully neutralize the intruder in under two hours.

Unfortunately, as of the time of this message, there were twenty-three casualties, three of which were…

***CLICK HERE to upgrade your subscription to one of our “Paid” options to receive more valuable information!***

Clayton Hackett is a short fiction writer and attorney living here in San Antonio.

The Fall

By Johnny Compton

People said this road was cursed, but it was worse than that. This road was malevolent. Aware and cruel. He learned this just before the bridge fell away and dropped his car into endless fog.

The road taunted him with a sign before he fell.

IT’S NOT THE FALL THAT KILLS YOU

He passed a tour bus that must have been silver once upon a time but was closer to brown with age.

He passed a rusted motorcycle on the way down. Its driver and sidecar rider were skeletonized.

Then he passed three more signs.

IT’S

THE

TIME

Johnny Compton is the Stoker Award-nominated author of The Spite House, Devils Kill Devils and Dead First, as well as the short story collection Midnight Somewhere.

ABOUT THE EDITOR: Max Booth III runs Ghoulish Books on South Saint Mary’s Street in San Antonio. Find them there most days besides Mondays. Do NOT go to the shop on Monday. You will get pissed off.

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100-word nightmares from 13 Texas horror authors

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