- Rebecca L. Brown
- Rebecca L. Brown (25) is a British writer currently based in Cardiff, South Wales where she lives with her partner and assorted menagerie. She has recently returned to writing medium-length, short and flash fiction pieces (including micro-fiction), after a short break which felt considerably longer than it was. Rebecca specialises in horror, SF, humour, surreal and experimental fiction, although her writing often wanders off into other genres and gets horribly lost. More updates and examples of Rebecca’s work can be found on her Twitter page @rlbrownwriter
Wednesday, 28 July 2010
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
Rebecca's mixed media (photography/poetry) piece Crimson Moment will be appearing in issue 14 of House of Horror.
The short fiction piece Corpus Erotica will be appearing in Sex and Murder Magazine.
The poem Overlording, which has featured on this blog, will be appearing in Vox Poetica.
A review written by Rebecca on the classic short story The Vampyre by Polidori should be available to read at Anything Horror later today.
Monday, 26 July 2010
Sunday, 25 July 2010
Saturday, 24 July 2010
Friday, 23 July 2010
Thursday, 22 July 2010
You are the most beautiful one of all. That is what they tell me before they die, each and every one of them. They come towards me as if mesmerised, eyes glazing, arms outstretched. They have seen no other of my kind; I am unique in my perfection. I honour them with a quick death.
Once I have devoured them, they tell me other things, snaking around inside my head like little moments of madness. Becoming you was the deepest ecstasy, they tell me. Becoming you has made us complete. Now they are beautiful too. We have become vain together.
I hate the mirrors, though. Mirrors are liars, bitter liars with no true image of their own. They distort me with their dead, glassy eyes, slicking my body with oil and mouldering feathers, shaping my soft, red lips into a wicked, toothless smile. I like to smash them, their fragments reflecting back one hundred little pieces of cruelty as I picked the slivers out of my fingers. I like to grind the shards into dust with my heels. What do you see now? I ask them.
They are soothing me now, stroking themselves over my aching pride. There are no others who compare to you, they promise me. You are the most beautiful of all.
I believe them.
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
Tuesday, 20 July 2010
Sunday, 18 July 2010
Saturday, 17 July 2010
Friday, 16 July 2010
Wednesday, 14 July 2010
You have felt the closeness of a moment like this before; the moment when you have forgotten where you are and why you were there, the time when you jolted awake desperate to breathe despite the tightening in your chest. Those are a taste of the horror as that moment squirms against your reality, your existence, a taste of the panic you would feel if that moment were to burst and drag your mind, screaming, into the vacuum of it’s abyss. Those creatures, those twisting shades, would seep into your mind and take it for their own.
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
Sunday, 11 July 2010
Saturday, 10 July 2010
She twisted as she withered, driven back by brightness;
Blackened and burnt, aching for mercy she crawled,
Writhing and slick, membranes thickening.
In sympathetic shadow-arms
She licked her wounds with forked tongues.
Bitter-sharp, sin-shaped, she brooded,
Another woman’s guilty secret.
Baring blunted teeth to blind shadows
She hissed her dread through pursed, black lips,
Jaws cracking, glistening between the splits.
Remorse is fleeting, a momentary throb
Scars sloughed like so much dead skin
Acid to ashes, denial to dust;
With hands never shaped for holding
She embraced her despair and shed her shame.