In the End, Only Darkness

In the End, Only Darkness

Monica J. O'Rourke

Language: English

Pages: 200


Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

In the End, Only Darkness

Monica J. O'Rourke

Language: English

Pages: 200


Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Eighteen horror stories (and a few poems) ranging from quietly subtle to stomach-churning disgusting, this collection features fiction that will entertain or repulse almost anyone. Featuring an Introduction by gore master Wrath James White!

Read about a gynecological visit gone very wrong … a woman’s obsession with a Georgia O’Keeffe painting … a former sheriff forced to hunt children overtaken during a zombie plague … a mohel who performs circumcisions in a most unique way … or a graphic story about three young men who conduct an experiment on a fourth boy—an experiment held in a secret room involving melted metals.

Included in this collection:




What She Sees

Short Stories:

Jasmine and Garlic

Attainable Beauty

Huntin’ Season

Vade in Pacem

Five Adjectives about My Dad, by Nadine Specter

The Rest of Larry

Maternal Instinct

The Three Wishes of Henry Hoggan

Not with a Bang but a Whimper

Oral Mohel

Someone’s Sister

Dancing into October Country

Feeding Desire (with Jack Fisher)

Nurturing Type


The Lost Bradbury: Forgotten Tales of Ray Bradbury

Had a Good Time: Stories from American Postcards

Big Driver

Good Bones





















like you forgot that part.” “I didn’t see that spell!” Ashley crossed his arms and smirked. “Could have been written in Latin.” “No!” Henry shrieked, searching the ground for the missing suitcase. “Oh, and Henry?” Ashley twiddled his fingers at him, “Carpe noctem, vade in pacem,” and muttered a few more things in Latin. “You’ve opened up the gates tonight, Henry old boy. Anything goes. Including me!” Suddenly Henry was inside the cemetery, and Bradley Cooper stood outside the gates. “Bye,

another, to feel anything but the dirt beneath their roots, soft rain on their branches. Occasionally a gentle breeze brought leaves closer to leaves, the delicate touch of one another, but the touch would always be fleeting, maddening. Branches reached to the skies, contorted by rage and despair. Now the Witching Hour approached, and with its return brought their freedom. A swirl of mist circled the trees, entangled itself in the thick foliage and caressed the bark, winding its way down the

why do we waste the time? It never changes. Why waste the time we have?” He laughed in spite of himself. “Desperation?” “Then let’s go upstairs. Why do we always hide down here? Don’t you want to look at them again?” “You know we can’t.” Danielle wrapped her arms across her naked breasts. “I’m cold.” Jake pulled her into his arms. “I know, I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” But it was his fault, he thought. “Maybe they’re asleep. We can peek upstairs …” He pulled her close,

Pepsi. A quart of Haagen Dazs Vanilla Swiss Almond with hot fudge. His sitting with her didn’t inhibit her appetite. What shame she’d felt earlier was now smothered by her hunger. Legs crossed, hands on his ankle, Justin watched, not saying much. Sat with her while she ate, kept her company, faking aloofness in his fascination of her amazing art, her perfected craft of self-indulgence. She was amused—bemused, perhaps—at his rapt attention, and at his attempt at nonchalance. Several weeks went

shocking as the thought is, you wish you were back in your cell. Still they ignore you, but they’re moving. They seem interested in the woman now and form a loose circle around her. She hasn’t been doing much until now, not that you can see. You’d even wondered if she’d fallen asleep, or was unconscious. No protests, no tears from her prone body. Just … resignation, perhaps. “Diseased,” one says, his voice a shock, something unexpected. It’s a normal voice, a man’s voice, not a sound you were

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