The Strange Day

My Halloween gift to all of you (I will be posting microfiction/flash fiction horror pieces all weekend):

The sunlight slanting in through the window, lingered on a bowl of fruit as the day came to a close. This was the last of light which became a treasure to the people, who were frightened, as the end was near. She scurried grabbing her rifle from the shed outside, as the grumbling sounds of the walking dead could be heard in the distance. What started as a peaceful day, ended being the last harmony to be felt to the remaining survivors of the zombie outbreak. The Aztecs prophesied this day would come, that the skeleton people would be the end of human civilization and today was that day.

The kitchen was still sanctimonious, a sacred space, and, Himalayan salt was no longer going to work against these monstrosities. The only hope was this shotgun she had purchased hesitantly months prior. She thought of gratitude for preparing herself by taking shooting lessons. She was not going to become a meal to those flesh eaters. A hideous sound came from the front door, and, she sprinted to the mahogany archway, trying to remember if it was locked.

The sound of bones slamming against the doorway was sonic, and echoed throughout the house. With the rifle in her hand, the young woman opened the door. In front of her was a rotting corpse with hemoglobin parchments drooling off of his chin. She raised her shotgun, and said “not today” as she pulled the trigger releasing a blast through the skull of the dead man.

~Celena StarVela

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The Old Man’s Doll Emporium

Hi everyone!

Great news…you can find a sound clip of the story in my previous post up on the Sci-Fi and Fantasy Poetry Association’s Halloween Poetry Reading page this month and I will be featured on the Brave and Reckless blog tomorrow at 3pm 🙂

NaNoWriMo prep is going great and I have an exciting novel planned to write which I believe some of you will love!

Here is another creepy flash fiction piece I came up with during the Story A Day Challenge, enjoy:

   The doll store was conveniently in the middle of two stores which had gone out of business in what seemed to be a ghost town. The owner of the store, Mr. Styles, lived above the store in an apartment and continued to build his dolls. One day, Billy wandered into The Styles Emporium and was astounded by what he saw. Each doll was made of a light porcelain paint, and brown ringlets with sun kissed highlights embraced her blushing cheeks. Each doll with bright blue eyes and ruby red lips which extended in a smirk. The curious part of it all was that all of the dolls had the same face. 
As I looked toward the countertop, Billy saw there an old man, looking out into the sea of dolls, his mind obviously somewhere else. Billy wanted to ask him the question that the rest of the town wanted to know. Why did the dolls all have the same face? For decades, little boys and girls would wander through the Emporium, wondering the same thing. No one feeling courageous enough to pose the question which was haunting the town.
Billy decided this was the day he would break the tradition and find out the longest kept secret. Billy walked closely to the counter, noticing the man had a bald spot on the top of his hair, his gray hair frizzed out as though he had not combed it in weeks. Perched upon the bridge of his nose were clear framed glasses with attached clear beads. As Billy approached the man, his eyes darted up toward Billy and asked, in a grumpy tone, “Yes? What can I do for you, boy?”
“Uh…why do all of the dolls have the same face,” asked Billy, suddenly feeling flushed and wondering why he had done this. 
“Boy, it is a long story. The face of the doll is the face of a daughter that I lost long ago to a tragedy. Her image has been engrained in my mind, unable to forget her, I decided long ago that I would create dolls that looked like her. To this day, I will always love her and never forget my baby girl. A doll creates and maintains an image of a person for eternity. They are sometimes seen as supernatural objects. I did it thinking I could resurrect her memory. But, she remains gone.” 
Feeling melancholic for the old man,  Billy thanked the old man for explaining his story and decided to purchase a doll.
Scrounging up the remains of his allowance, Billy dropped his change on the counter. Mr. Styles said “thank you, come back at anytime, Billy” and winked.
Billy ran out of the store with his doll and a grin on his face. He now knew the answer to the town riddle. 
~E.R. Buendia/Celena StarVela

Frightful Night

It is Halloween season, the merriest one of them all, and as a result, I have been working on a short horror zine (a compilation of flash fiction and poetry pieces) dedicated to my favorite time of year!

Here is a snippet of one of the flash pieces I plan on submitting to SciFi and Fantasy Poetry Association and including in the zine (which I will be selling later on):

The black horse rides through the flames risen from the earth

Samhain is here, the veil is thin,

Children scream and cry… frightened of the headless man

*thump, thump, thump*

The hooves get heavier and draw closer to the town

Screams pierce the dreary night

Fire engulfs the hay as the headless man draws closer

The autumn winds are defeated by the flames

But the horseman does not stop

The only hope is daybreak

But it is too late and the villagers drown in the flames

Destined to haunt on the next Hallow’s Eve

 

The black horse rides through the flames risen from the earth

Samhain is here, the veil is thin,

Children scream and cry… frightened of the headless man

*thump, thump, thump*

The hooves get heavier and draw closer to the town

Screams pierce the dreary night

Fire engulfs the hay as the headless man draws closer

The autumn winds are defeated by the flames

But the horseman does not stop

The only hope is daybreak

But it is too late and the villagers drown in the flames

Destined to haunt on the next Hallow’s Eve

~Celena StarVela (E.R. Buendia)

Note: Pen name is now Celena StarVela for any magical or horror stories I write.

I am excited to continue sharing my work with you all and I plan on submitting some more stuff this month. Finishing up a couple folklore, horror, and poems which have to do with goddesses, witches, and, also prepping for NaNoWriMo! Delving into the steampunk realm this year 🙂

Love and Light

~ Celena Star Vela ~

Halloween Zine 

I am excited about a short book project I am finishing up with prose and flash fiction pieces combined with original photography. It’s going to be a short horror anthology for Halloween. Making a zine is not as difficult as I thought it would be and it’ll be a cool way to share my work locally. Purpose is to get my work out and read!

Morgana outline is slow going,  been distracted by yoga teaching and important deadlines for school. Writing is my way to unwind and relax. Its been keeping me balanced.

Here’s my story for today, it’ll be up in the zine….

Swipe, Swipe, Swipe, 

Left and Right, Left and Right

The young woman moved her index finger back and forth

Hoping to get matched with the latest handsome stranger

Little did she know, she was in for danger

As she continued to swipe, 

a heart formed on the screen of her iPhone

A MATCH, finally, she let out a sinister giggle

“Let’s meet up tonight” 

wrote the interested fool

“Meet me at the corner bar on K Street” she replied, excitedly, knowing she’s in for a night of free booze and food, a relief to her penniless bank account


After an hour, the night grew tiresome as the man had forgotten his wallet and she was stuck with the bill


Feeling agitated, due to the plan not working, she got up to leave


The man glared at her with an apathetic gaze filled with mischievous desire


Thinking that she was in for a midnight rendezvous,


the woman let the mystery man follow her home

As the streets grew darker and the clicking of the woman’s heels got heavier


the man followed closely, breathing deeply onto her neck


In the shadow of the street light, the woman spied the outline of a knife


Raised high in the air, above the outline of her own head


A shriek formed inside of the woman’s mouth, “ahhhhhhhhhh”


As the blade came down into her right shoulder


Searing pain rain through her body, trying to run,


The man followed her, striking once more,


And, the woman kept running, approaching her door


As her bloody hand reached to open the door, she caught her reflection


And blew herself a kiss, as she fainted onto a puddle of rainwater face first 

-E.R. BUENDIA

Greetings from Canada

Day #1-Write a story after a postcard arrives from someone who passed away and whose funeral you attended that says the words, “I’m not dead, meet me tonight at ___________”
Greetings from Canada by E.R. Buendia
I read the postcard looking back at me with an image of a grey sky and an outline of old Victorian aged houses. The right bottom corner in boldfaced red writing “Greetings from CANADA” and a tiny maple leave emblem. A cryptic message scribbled on the left side: “I’m not dead. Meet me at the grave site where I was buried tonight at 8pm. Sincerely, Jake.” I let out a sigh, not knowing what to think of this news. It was 4pm and I knew the next four hours were going to be dreadful.
Eight o’clock came with a slow yearning building inside of me. I reflected gently on the memories I had of Jake as children holding hands on the swing set.
Was he in trouble?
Now that I was approaching the darkly lit cemetery with the cobblestoned plaques all around, my heart began to race. Fight or flight mode. I wondered if this would be my demise. The dark figure turned his face and looked at me with a grin on his face, which was now sunken with deep violet undertones in his sunken face.
I approached him, bearing my cross necklace on my bosom and his eyes began to burn. He let out a shriek, as high pitched as a siren. He began to step away from me to the other side of his grave. And, as I looked at him closely, I saw fangs poking out of the top of his mouth, gently onto his bottom lip. Catching his breath, he said in a whisper, “now you know my secret.”
I gasped, unable to accept the creature standing in front of me was a vampire. Knowing that vampires were fictitious creatures of the night, and, it was not possible for my oldest friend to be a vampire. Feeling helpless, as though I was under attack, I fell to my knees and felt a twinge inside of me, liquid beginning to collect in my eyes.
I aggressively brushed the tears from my eyes, looked up at him and asked, “so how long have you been a vampire?”
He looked back at me, with the eyes of a lost baby deer and said “I’m newly turned, I’m immortal, baby.”
I knew that this was the start of a twisted and long journey for Jake and I. Jake grabbed my arm and we began to float in the air, the gravestones blurred together into a gray swirl beneath us. Jake ran his fingers over my eyes and lethargy sent me into a slumber, as panic set in, unsure where this dreadful creature of the night was taking me. The lights faded away and darkness swept over my eyelids.