A Double-Dose of Micro Fiction: Hell Hounds and Carnivorous Aliens

Two short pieces of fiction for you today. The first is Our Black Shuck by Oklahoma City-based Christopher Shultz. I've a soft-spot for this story as Bungay, the scene of the original Old Shuck's first appearance in 1577, is just five minutes down the road from the Grievous Angel's office. Christopher writes mostly horror with a dash of dark fantasy and his stories have appeared at MicroHorror and Smashed Cat Magazine, among other places. You can find out more at www.christophershultz.com 

Our second story Poor Decisions – and haven't we all made some of those although maybe not with visitors from Outer Space – is by New York City-based author and actress Alexandra Grunberg. Alexandra's work has previously been published in Daily Science Fiction and been accepted for publication in Flash Fiction Online. She is a recent graduate of New York University's Tisch School of the Arts.




OUR BLACK SHUCK
by Christopher Shultz

 

Because he was a sable beast and vast like the night that cloaked him, folks came to the decision our Black Shuck was an evil demon dog. They knew the tales of Old Shuck – as in, Old Country – terrorizing churches in Bungay and Blythburgh, killing men and even children. Leaving scorch marks on the doors and blowing out walls with the power of Hell behind him.

No, wouldn't do to have an element like that living amidst the final resting place of our dearly departed.

So we ran him out with the requisite pitchforks and torches. Chased him into the forest and set fire to the trees. No escape for him, least not back the way he came.

But my fellow townspeople failed to realize this: the legends never told why Old Shuck fled his graveyard so--as though he himself were hunted. Why else would a stout animal run such amok? And they never considered why hellhounds lived in cemeteries in the first place.

"Because they loved the stench of rot, surely!"

No. Because they feared death as much as we do, but they were brave enough to guard against it...

Now we run toward the charred tree trunks, hoping there's a clean passage through, our dearly departed, arisen from the grave and hot on our trail, hungry for our very souls. We pray our Black Shuck's waiting in the woods, ready with raised hackles, bared teeth, blazing red eyes, and grudges set aside.

No hard feelings, eh Shuck?



Poor Decisions
by Alexandra Grunberg

 

Dude, I’m so sorry.

I knew that when you first landed in my backyard, you were all like, “Ahh! I’m gonna eat you!” And that pretty much sucked for the two and half hours you chased me around my house, hiding behind the shower curtain, and in the closet, and keeping me trapped in the basement. Good times.

But after I pulled up YouTube and we had a few good laughs about some really crazy cats doing some really crazy shit, I thought you were past that phase. Like, human killing was in your past. We were rocking on the Wii and shooting hoops out back. And you were just my awesome guest, who happened to be from outer space.

But I guess it was probably a bad idea to bring you to a bar to celebrate your three-week anniversary on Earth. I just thought it would be fun to go in and be like, “Ahh! Oh my god! There’s an alien invasion!” And then you’d come in and be like, “Ahh! I’m so hungry for human flesh!” And everyone would be like, “Oh my god, we’re gonna die!” And I’d be all like, “Naw guys, he’s cool.” And we’d all laugh and have a beer.

And it was going great. We had the plan down until you actually started eating everyone.

I guess I feel partly responsible. I put you into this situation. But you’re the one that ate people. I think you need to recognize that this is partly your fault. I mean, you were like a psychopath. You even killed the hot bartender. Who does that?

But that’s beside the point. I’m sorry, you’re sorry, we need to move on with our lives.

And I mean that literally, I can hear the cops coming.