Brief Grislys: Available now!

The idea was simple: tell the scariest story you can, in less than 1,000 words. It sounds easy, but it isn’t. A thousand words sounds like a lot until you start writing. In this collection, a wide variety of writers try their hand at the tricky balance of suspense and brevity.

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The long awaited Brief Grislys, brought to you by John R. Mabry of Apocryphile Press, is available now from amazon.com and amazon.ca.

A collection of 100 stories of less than 1000 words, this chilling anthology includes my three shortest horror tales; Pyromania, Night Terrors, and The Fall From Glory. Order your copy now to read all three.

From Night Terrors:

    The wolf started to close the distance with slow, stalking steps, keeping low. She moved silently, taking me with her. It couldn’t have been the noise, but he woke all at once when I came to the edge of the bed, eyes just high enough to peer over the mattress. He sat up and looked around, blind in the darkness; but the wolf could see. Her eyes had grown sharp in the shadows. As he moved, his smell wafted towards her; his heart beat was faster when he was awake. His confusion was sweating out through his pores.

    “Cindy? Are you in the bathroom?”

    The wolf growled quietly.

    He was afraid, and she could smell it. It excited her more than anything else had, and my lips pulled back further, twitching.

    “Cindy?” His voice was shaking. “Is that you?”

    My muscles tensed, just for an instant, hard as rocks; and then release. The wolf leaps, and her jaws have snapped closed before I’ve landed. He doesn’t have time to scream, and I try to, but it echoes soundlessly inside the wolf’s head. And she is not disturbed.

    The first spurt of blood is hot and sudden, as the long fangs tear into his throat. He fights with amazing vigour, gurgling strangely as his hard fists come down again and again, bashing my soft nose, so that I see the pain in infuriating flashes of red. His thumb hooks my eye and the wolf whimpers without loosening her grip, and I am angry with her. I want him to hurt, I want him to see the red. The wolf resets her teeth, clawing him back when he tries to twist away, biting down on his shoulder. His throat free, he can finally scream. He tries, but it is weak. Still, it hurts my ears.

    I want him to be quiet. Now.

    And the wolf bit down harder, granting my request.

    After that, it gets harder to remember. The wolf worked alone after he was dead, and I don’t know what she did. Not really.

    I only saw the aftermath.

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