Category Archives: 8) Short Stories & Poems

Monster

It’s been quite some time since last I’ve posted a story or news here due to some very personal reasons I won’t go into, but suffice it to say that I’ve started writing again and have posted 1 new story called Monster at my newly designed website.

I also have 3 news works in progress (at various stages) up on my website. I’ll be sure to post here when each one is ready. In the meantime, here are the first 3 paragraphs to Monster:

Monster

By Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

Emma Lansing sat in the front row with her foster parents, watching the Cirque de DaeDreams performers through large brown doe eyes. A gasp escaped her lips as she watched the trapeze artists; a young girl dressed in beautiful raven hued feathers and night hued silks released the bar, somersaulted twice, and grasped the hands and wrists of the gray-feathered man that the ringmaster announced as her father.

She clutched her popcorn as sunrise hued lion tamers did the unthinkable and fire dancers mesmerized with dancing flames. Heart deep smiles lit her face as canine-ish clowns took center stage. They came pouring out of small cars shaped like dog houses, chased each other with buckets of confetti, and made strange glitter filled animal balloons for delighted kids.

That’s when she noticed a rather peculiar figure circling the ring. He moved with cat-like grace as his amber-hued feral eyes searched the audience, the bells on his hat jingled softly. Emma scrunched down, trying to make herself invisible as the eyes fell upon her.

(Click here to read the rest of the story)


Stone Cold Killer – A Short Horror Story

Stone Cold Killer
Written by: Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

The phone rang several times before she answered it.

“Hello?”

“Yes, is Isabella Aaronson there?”

“Speaking.”

“Oh, good. This is Sarah Rogers from the Grace Falls Foundation. There was a bit of vandalism that took place at the park last night. Unfortunately, it seems somebody decided to deface the statue we commissioned you to create for us last month. We were wondering if you could go down to the park to see if the damage could be repaired. We’re willing to pay you for the job.”

“That’s terrible news! I hope they catch the awful vandal that did it. And yes, I’ll go and see what I can do about repairing the statue. I’ll even do the work for free, I’ll just charge for supplies.”

“Thank you Mrs. Aaronson, that’s wonderful news. Just send us the receipt for the supplies and I’ll happily cut you a check of reimbursement. It really is a wonderful work of art, a real treasure for those of us that enjoy visiting Grace Falls Park. Well, it’s getting a little hectic around here, so I better go. I look forward to talking with you soon. Bye.”

“Bye, and I’ll let you know if I have any problems.”

Isabella walked into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee, and sat down to a jelly doughnut. Her husband, Blaine, put his paper down and gave her an inquiring glance pertaining to the phone call. She told him who called and what had happened at the park to her artwork as their 6 year old son, Mason, came bounding down the stairs ready for school.

Blaine stood up, put on his business coat, and kissed her lightly on the lips. He looked deep into her eyes, told her he loved her and to be careful as little Mason made a “grody” face.

His parents both looked at him and burst into laughter. “Come on squirt, don’t want to be late for school, do you?” his father said.

Mason jumped into his father’s arms. Blaine lifted his son to mom’s cheek, which Mason kissed, then with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, turned into a wet giggling lick. “Eeewwww!” Isabella said with a laugh, as smiling daddy ‘airplaned’ giggling Mason out the door, into the car, and off to the great beyond.

Isabella put her wavy raven hued hair in a ponytail, slipped on her causal wear, grabbed her oversized bag, and headed out to her silver Ford Mustang. A half hour later, she found herself standing at the entrance to Grace Falls Park with her bag slung over her shoulder. She stared at the beauty of the lush green grass, autumn hued trees, and wonderfully quaint network of cobblestone paths.

It was one of these paths that led her to her statue; it stood proudly in the center of a clearing, circled by a path of cobblestones. Intricate stone benches sat on all four sides, inviting visitors to sit and enjoy the sculpture she named Wood Myths. There was a graceful wood nymph queen, with a crown of holly, in a light spring dress, arms raised above her head in dance as she celebrated the solstice in the center of the sculpture.

The wood nymph queen was surrounded by a small, strange, and delightful menagerie of dancing woodland creatures of myth; the shortest reaching one foot in height, while the tallest of them touched three feet. The whole sculpture stood on a pedestal that slowly spun, as if in an unseen music box. Simply, breathtaking… if only the vandal hadn‘t chipped off the wood nymph queen‘s face.

Isabella had put her heart, soul, and sweat into the piece.

She stood facing her sculpture, large oak trees swaying in the early morning wind around her, as anger made her oblivious to her surroundings. He had been trailing her ever since he saw her enter the park with the large bag strapped round her shoulder. His filth covered hood hid his gaunt face and hollow eyes from the mid-morning sun. His body trembled for its next fix.

He came round the wide oak trunk, hand in his oversized thrift store coat gripping his large switchblade. Just grab the purse, slash the strap, and run like hell! Nothing to it he thought to himself. But he should have known that life rarely goes as planned.

The next scarlet moments seemed to move in slow motion; he stalked her from behind, grabbed the oversized bag she had clasped (white knuckled) in her angry hands, the pull spun her body round to face him, her eyes widened as she saw the blade coming towards her causing her to release an ear piercing scream. She pulled back, hand still unconsciously grasping the bag, causing him to lose his balance as the blade missed its mark and ripped into her throat. Blood sprayed out as she spun, and rained down on her statue.

Panicked, the druggie turned mugger turned killer pushed her body tumbling towards the statue and fled with bag in hand. The life flowed out of Isabella’s body onto the sculpture as her killer’s scrambled thoughts revolved around the blissful escape of drugs.

(to be continued this weekend)


Road Rage – A Horror Flash Fiction Story

Just a little fun piece of horror flash fiction. It takes place in the world of seraph hunters, but is an independent story with no characters from the book I’m working on. Hope you enjoy it.

Road Rage
Written by: Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

He was jogging under the new moon in the park when it happened; a crazed animal, all fur and fangs, tore into his leg, causing him to scream for help. The sounds of sirens filled the night as darkness claimed him. The last thing he saw that night was the beast running off into the darkness on all fours.

The sound of beeps woke Nathan Mace. Stark white walls and medical machines greeted his sleep hazed eyes. He lifted his arms and saw the IV tubes pierced into his veins, feeding his body much needed liquids. The cloud of confusion lifted from his mind as he realized that he was in a hospital.

His hands clenched the railings of his bed, his pulse began to race as flashes of the vicious attack assaulted him. He saw the savage beast, with red gleaming eyes, open its fang filled jaw. It sprang at him and tore into his leg: “AARRRGGGGHHH!!!!”

Sounds of footsteps filled the hallway beyond his closed door. Light flooded in as the door flew open. “Mr. Mace…” said the nurse, staring at his sweaty face, “are you okay?”

“I’m… okay. Just a bad dream. Felt real… where am I? How long have I been here?” Nathan asked.

“I understand Mr. Mace. I’d have nightmares too if I was mauled. Your at St. Vincent’s Hospital. You’ve been out for the past two days. You lost a lot of blood and have had a very high fever. You had us all worried. I’m glad you pulled through.”

“The beast… animal that attacked me, did they get it?” he asked.

“No. They think you were attacked by some kind of large wolf. At least, that‘s what they got from the tracks. You should get some rest. We‘ll run some more tests in the morning, okay.”

With that, she left the room, leaving Nathan alone as he drifted off into a stark forest of dreams.

The days went by rather quickly for Nathan as he found himself getting ready to sleep in his own bed. His leg was healing quite fast, very little pain remained and the scars were diminishing every day. Soon, there would be no sign that he had ever been attacked. In fact, the only real reminders were the constant stream of strange dreams he’d been having, night after night.

Dreams of hunting in forests, stalking prey, tasting the slick tang of blood and flesh in his jaws.

It was Monday evening when Nathan found himself rushing home after a busy work day. The sun had already set and the highway was filled with a sea of commuters. He was looking at the beauty of the moon when he noticed that his turnoff was nearly upon him. He clicked his signal and changed lanes, cutting right in front of an old 4×4 truck.

The man in the truck flashed his highlights into Nathan’s rearview mirror and blared his horn as he followed him onto the turnoff. Nathan looked anxiously into the mirror as the light at the intersection turned red, forcing him to stop. He could hear the man and his buddy cussing up a storm as they exited from their truck, slamming their doors closed.

Nathan locked his doors, praying for the light to change color, when the man’s face appeared in his window. “Open up you bastard! You trying to kill us you prick. Get out of the car…”

“Sorry, didn’t see you there. It was just a mistake…” Nathan said through his cracked open window.

“Sorry? You almost kill us and your sorry. I’ll show you sorry…” he said as he smashed his fist through the window, slamming Nathan in the jaw as the man’s friend egged him on.

Nathan felt dazed; then the blood began to surge through his veins as adrenaline flooded his body. The man laughed as he swung his fist through the broken window, landing another blow across Nathan’s temple. Nathan’s eyes closed, as a part of him fell into a dark pit of unconsciousness.

Within his mind came the howling as his eyes snapped open with rage. He could hear the man laughing as his friend told him to knock his head off. The man hooted with pleasure as he swung his fist through the broken window again.

Nathan moved his head back. The man’s fist went right past his face, grazing his nose. He grabbed the man’s wrist with his right hand, just as he was pulling it out the window. “My turn!” Nathan growled to the surprised man.

He pulled the man’s arm towards the passenger seat, with all his might, slamming the man’s head into the top of his car’s door frame. A loud ‘CRACK’ pierced the air as the man groaned in pain. Nathan then grabbed the man by the throat and pulled him halfway into the car through the broken window.

He smiled as the man’s eyes widened with fear at the sight of his face. He pulled the man’s head back by the hair with his right hand and held him study by the chest with his left hand, exposing his throat. Nathan then opened his mouth, unnaturally wide, as the man’s friend stared in horror through the passenger window.

Blood splashed onto the windows and seats as Nathan’s teeth ripped into the man’s throat. He chewed the flesh and swallowed it down as the man’s friend ran away into the streets screaming. There came the sounds of screeching brakes and a loud ‘THUNK’ as the friends body splattered onto the ground. The semi was just too big to stop in time.

Nathan tossed the body out of his window. He watched the head roll down the turnoff, into the gutter through his blood stained rearview mirror. He turned on the radio, drowning out shouts and screams from the commuters behind, and drove off into the night, heading for the moon as his car speakers blared out; “I see the bad moon rising.”


Itsy Bitsy Racnids – A Short Horror Story

The following piece of intended horror flash fiction became slightly longer as the words flowed into my keyboard from the images in my head. Actually, it was more like a little movie in my head. By the time I finished I had a short story (on my hands) based on a character and world of my ‘book in progress’ called Seraph Hunters. Seraph Hunters mixes the comic book genre with the horror genre. I hope you enjoy it.

Itsy Bitsy Racnids
Written by: Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

Sierra Rayne Hernandez was late. She was suppose to check in by 10:00, but the science research paper she was working on caused her to lose track of time, big time. It was nearly midnight when she began to head out the public library, waving goodnight to Mrs. Wilson, the librarian.

The library used to close a lot earlier, back when Mrs. Wilson’s husband was alive, but ever since he was taken from her by cancer, she kept the library open for as long as high school students like Sierra needed; it was better to be surrounded by people and books, than to go back into the empty house Sierra guessed.

“Don’t forget your coat, dear. It’s cold out and you look to be dressed for spring. You do know it’s winter, don’t you? I wouldn’t you want to go catching your death now.” Mrs. Wilson said worriedly.

“Oh, it’s okay Mrs. Wilson.” Sierra said with a curious smile. She was standing in the open doorway as the brisk wind brushed strands of her pitch black hair into her face; long hair which was streaked midnight blue. She had on her blue pin striped shoulder strap top, black jeans, and sensible black leather boots. She usually wore her black and blue trench coat, but the cold air was just too inviting. Her skin was tanned like her fathers (it was her paternal twin sister that took after mom), her body well sculpted, and her azure hued eyes shone brightly as she finished her reply, “The cold doesn’t bother me at all, Mrs. Wilson. Not one little bit.”

In fact, I love the cold she thought to herself as the doors closed behind her. She made her way down the stone steps. Dezrie is probably worried sick about now she thought as she grabbed her cell phone and dialed her up.

“Hey sis, just wanted to let you know I’m on my way home. I’m about 5 blocks away, I’ll be there in about 15 minutes… 20 minutes tops, ‘kay. See you soon.”

She was halfway down Plaza Ave. when she heard a strange sound. The beautiful two story stone shops lining the streets were all closed; most of the lights from the people living above their shops were off and there was no sign of any parked cars. But still, she had very good hearing and knew she heard something.

“Hemmphhmmmeee”

There it is again she thought looking across the street. “It’s coming from somewhere within that alley,” she said to herself.

Sierra crossed the street, calling the cold to her, letting it sift into her pores. She stepped into the dark alley. She looked around, unable to make heads or tails as to the location of the noise. It was just too dark.

She concentrated the cold to flow into her eyes, making them glow azure as her eyesight shifted, painting the world in various shades of blue. The colder the object, the deeper the blue it appeared. She looked round once more, but the only reds in her vision belonged to the various rodents scuttling about in open trash cans.

“hhheelllppphhhmmeee”

That’s when she looked up. She saw four of them, strung and cocooned upside down across the two rooftops by a network of webs. Three of the wiggling forms shone bright red, but the fourth was limp and fading blue.

Then it hit her; she screamed out in pain and surprise as claws dug into the flesh of her shoulders, yanking her back hard, as poison laced fangs pierced her flesh. Her eyelids felt heavy and her muscles relaxed as the poison coursed its way through her body.

She saw a shadowy figure and fell into its spiky arms.

It carried her up the wall on its long spidery legs. Its pot belly, bloated with blood, made weird sloshing noises. Each of its hands had three long clawed fingers with small needle like holes in the tips. From these holes it spun its web round Sierra’s prone body. Its red flesh was covered by black exoskeleton shells; natural body armor. It looked as if someone had chopped a pot bellied humanoid creature in half and stuck eight spidery legs on its bottom.

Drool dripped down the Racnid’s jaws as it stared at its feasts through yellowish compound eyes. “Yyyeeessss, I have chosen good spot for nest, I have.” It chattered as it hung upside down from its web, busily cocooning Sierra.

The Racnid’s cocoon was up to Sierra’s neck when it noticed something odd occurring to its victim. Strange diamond shaped patterns began to appear on Sierra’s exposed flesh as it began to darken in hue. The flesh hardened, transforming into dark blue scales as her face became silvery. Her muscles rippled with growth as the cocoon began to rip and tear.

The Racnid stared in shock as Sierra’s dragon-like wings ripped their way to freedom, their tips were razor sharp blades. Silvery tattoo like lines danced around her wings and body, pulsing with life as her blazing blue eyes popped open.

Instinct took over as her wings slashed the webbing out from under the Racnid’s feet, sending it towards the concrete ground below. The Racnid flipped with arms out wide sending strands of webs to the walls, stopping its descent a mere foot above the ground as Sierra’s wings cut free the webbing hanging her upside down.

Powerful flaps sent her into the night sky as her dragon clawed hands ripped her body free of the cocoon.

The Racnid glared at her as he ascended the walls, watching her beautiful draic fae form shimmering in the night sky. Her heart told her to save the living, her body tingled with the urge to battle, but her mind cautioned against rash action.

“Frack! I can’t leave them to die.” She said to herself. She looked down at the Racnid ascending the wall and raged out, “I am Frostbite! Seraph hunter and you will pay for what you have done, you foul fracking beast!” The words spilled out, guiding her course of action.

She released a loud piercing shriek into the night, diving into battle. The Racnid saw her shooting towards it as it climbed over the lip of the rooftop. It leapt across the alley, to the rooftop on the other side, avoiding Sierra’s slashing claws and whipping tail.

It turned to face her as she hovered over the rooftop across the alley. She raised her hands and pointed them, palms open, at the Racnid. She grunted as slits ripped open across her palms, sending a barrage of dagger-like icicles into the Racnid’s body.

A flurry of “KKRRSSSSHHH’s” filled the air as the icicles struck the Racnid’s exoskeleton shells, shattering like waves of broken glass. They struck with such violent force that it sent the vile beast back a couple of yards.

The Racnid immediately recovered from the concussive blows. It quickly scuttled across the rooftop and leapt into the air towards her. Her wings sent her skyward as it raised its hands; webs shot forth binding her legs, whipping her round.

She dipped her right wing, its razor tip slicing the web strands, releasing her as the Racnid landed on the rooftop. Sierra sent another volley of ice daggers, aiming at its head. The Racnid raised its arms, shielding its head as the ice blades shattered to the ground. “Damn its bracking shells! It must have a weakness.” Sierra said to herself, looking it over.

The Racnid crouched down, raised its hands and sent thick flowing webs hurtling towards her wings. Sierra lifted her left arm, shielding her wing. Thick strands struck her arm with wet plopping sounds, splashing and wrapping round her forearm, then thickening and solidifying into webs; it felt as if someone struck her with some type of glue gun.

The Racnid then exploded into the air from its crouched position. It quickly hurtled towards her, using its hands to climb up the web straight towards her.

Sierra shrieked out in surprise and sent ice blades towards the beast. It cackled as they shattered on its shell, not slowing its pace. Her heart thumped as panic began to enter her mind. It was coming straight towards her through the air.

Then a cool calm washed over her as an idea came to mind.

Hand over hand, it climbed to her, its mouth chattering in anticipation of ripping her throat out. It was nearly upon her when Sierra sprung her trap; she dipped her left shoulder and arm catching the Racnid off guard, causing it to clench the web tightly with both hands to keep from falling off, momentarily stopping its ascent. Sierra then sent her powerful wing in a round down and up arc.

Her razor tipped wing sliced through the exposed flesh and bone of the Racnid’s elbow joints, severing its arms in half as her tail whipped, sending the Racnid plummeting to the ground. A resounding CRACK filled the night as it crashed into the concrete below; closely followed by the clattering of two severed arms.

She flew down to the ground and approached the broken body of the Racnid. It was lying in a growing pool of brackish blood. She looked up at the 4 cocooned forms, focusing on the small limp blue form that she had been too late to save. She concentrated the cold to flow through her arm as a long sword of ice took shape in her hand. A tear ran down her cheek before falling towards the ground, turning to ice.

She raised the ice sword with both hands above her head, “Fracking Racnids, may you all rot in hell!” The ice sword whistled through the brisk wind, landing with tremendous force, severing head from body, forever ending the threat of this Racnid.


SandDream Magicks

The following piece of horror flash fiction was inspired by this picture. I used some elements found in some popular urban legends. Hope you enjoy it.

SandDream Magicks
Written by: Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

She hated her brother. She tired of his schemes. Always teasing her, pinching her, making her scream. I’ll show him she thought, “tonight, big brother will pay.”

Into her bedroom, she lit candles by three’s, turned off the lights and then calmly breathed. She unzipped her Kim Possible backpack (cheery and fun). Then pulled out a dark musty book titled The Sands of Bad Dreams. She had purchased it from a strange old shop she’d never seen before. It was the sign that called her in:

SandDream Magicks – Make Your Heart’s Dreams Come True.

She found what she was looking for on page 353. She whispered the words in a soft flowing chant: “Come to me sister sand, hear my heart’s dream. Let him taste what he‘s given, multiply it by three. Capture and wrap him, in sand dreams so dark. Teach him the lessons, which comes from my heart. With your name I invoke thee and so set you free.”

“Sandriel…”
“Sandriel…”
“Sandriel,” she breathed.

Tensely she waited for a sign it had worked, but nothing occurred. She closed the thick book and shoved it back in her pack. I should have known it was all just a scam.

But outside her brother’s slightly open window the breeze picked up. Gusts of wind began to swirl, creating a growing dust devil. Within, a figure began to take form. And then the wind died, but the dust did not fall. No, it was pulled to the center, became part of that living sand dream.

It drifted over to the window and sifted within, reformed. It stood over his bed, watching him sleep. Then she reached over, stroking his cheek. Something felt weird, something felt wrong, and he woke with a start. Brown eyes bulged as he took in the sight. Up from above him was a mutated human type thing.

“What in the heck?” he gasped, staring at it from its head to her feet. She had three misshapen faces staring down on him through four terra cotta eyes. And she appeared to be made entirely of shifting sand. He open his mouth and screamed, but she stifled his cry as her sandy fingers pressed closed his lips. The only one to hear him, was sister Jenny.

She opened his door and froze from the sight.

“Ssshhhh,” Sandriel whispered to the terrified boy. “Not yet. I’m the keeper of sleepers and maker of dreams. I’ve been sent to collect you, so there’s no need to scream.”

And with that, one of her faces winked to his sister, with a soft smile on her third pair of lips. Then bent over and kissed him and swallowed him whole. With her job done, she exploded into a dust devil storm. She sifted out the window with her brother in tow, and took him to her dream world leaving Jenny alone.


Short Poem – To Write

I was visiting a blog and my eyes fell upon an article that inspired me to write and leave the following scribbling as a comment. Basically, I was just having fun with it.

To Write
Written by: Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

Yes, to write.
To find the words that breathe life,
that sculpt the shapes of the imaginings
buzzing round my brain.

To be dream stung,
injected by its inspirational toxin
and have it quickly fade
before my keyboard can fully capture its sweet prose.

I lament for what is lost
before it could be fully given life… a shame.


Night Falls

The following is a short story I wrote for a fun writing contest taking place over at: http://clarityofnight.blogspot.com/ If your into writing, you should give it try. They provide a photo and writers create a 250 word story for it. This story is based on a cool photo of a cloud shrouded moon. Anyways, hope you enjoy it.

Night Falls
Written by: Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

They came in the night, unseen. Eyes of onyx, skin of shadowy leather, needle sharp teeth, and ravenous appetites for the careless.

It was our mother who spotted them first, through the bay window overlooking the garden. She gasped as cloud filtered moonlight betrayed them, revealed them flitting about outside our home.

She gathered my sisters and I in the living room by the burning fireplace. We huddled under a soft quilt, secure in her comforting embrace. We shuddered as claws raked against the walls and windows outside, but still they did not come in.

They pressed their ghastly faces against the windows and began to lick it with long jaundiced tongues as their eyes fell upon the mass of entwined flesh that was my family.

Goosebumps crawled on my flesh as they began their sick raspy chant: “Night falls, blood calls. We taste it on our lips. Its salty tang so liquid slick, come fill our empty pits.”

On and on they chanted, their bodies flailing about in dance and their voices raising in pitch, filling our very souls with their macabre chorus. Immense waves of rolling fear pounded into our hearts. We clasped one another, battling the mountainous urge to flee the safety of our home.

Then it happened, the full moon broke free from the clouds to shine brightly down on our house. It’s unfiltered beams burning into the flesh of the hideous creatures outside, making them run in pain, back to wherever they came from.