Mythical Drabbles: ‘Beneath the Mangoes’ by Natasha Sinclair

My drabble, Beneath the Mangoes, written for Insignia Stories upcoming Mythical Creatures of Asia anthology is featured on Insignia Stories site today! Original Post linked below.

Today’s Mythical Creatures of Asia drabble features the kapre, from Filipino mythology. Natasha Sinclair has three drabbles in this anthology, and is…

Mythical Drabbles: ‘Beneath the Mangoes’ by Natasha Sinclair

The Flow

A Drabble

We fell in love; free-falling into some unknown abyss. Her eyes were like staring into the universe; secrets intrigued, inspired, ghosts whispered. I was entirely enthralled, spinning through the dazzling, cataclysmic void of her soullessness.

Shelley said she was different from the others. When she eventually came out of the metaphorical coffin, I was hardly surprised. She feasted on me for hours when I bled. Thinking it just a kink at first, I went along with the proverbial flow. There are worse things than being with a vegetarian vampire; Shelley loves eating out, I can only oblige, she needs me.

One Shake Too Many

A Drabble

Mothers of sons are queer — boundaryless.

I should’ve known when she barged in, unapologetically, when we were screwing. Kidding myself — it was just another funny little accident? She couldn’t have heard me moan…

It was never going to work while she was still ramming the teat into his wide, open mouth. 

The final straw came at Christmas. I walked into the bathroom to see her shaking it off — too pissed to piss on his own. Marking her territory with pride of her homemade produce; one shake too many.

She’ll do anything for her boy. Quite frankly, she can have him.

A drabble written a while ago. Reading it again made me want to revisit the cast of ‘Psychoville’ . If you know the characters, you know.

Penumbra

Shadows engulf mother Earth, shade and still-cold stretch through half the globe as Batara Candra embraces her most impossible love, Batara Surya. Two halves of a singular coin. Coming together only briefly once every eighteen years. A passing lingering embrace that ripples waves of darkness, causing tides to threaten to turn, waves of anarchy and torrents of cold panic; what if they never let go?

Doomed love or doomed planet by total eclipse — an impossible love where no-one truly wins. Love must pass through the penumbra, saving this world from suffocating darkness or burning light.

Until next time, my love.

Speed-Meat

Bumbling sedate-like, a year on, rotters are no different to the local junkies. Except, the rotter isn’t coming at you with its drooping face, skin pulling down at the darkened cavernous eye-sockets, hanging loose off the jawbone, slurring; “Any spare change pal?”

They’re still using that old line, except by change they mean anything that can be offered to dealers in exchange.

I prefer the real dead-walking — even they won’t touch a junkie for their fix. Shame, maybe that’d help us all; thin the heard. Though, I’m not prepared for the sight of the dead on something like speed-meat.

This drabble was first published by Reanimated Writers Press in their anthology 100 Word Bigger Zombie Bites.

Frozen Slack Still

A daughter held him, frozen.
Imitation of new dead still; only air flowing through functioning lungs.
Numb dumb in thought, inaction.
Painfilled love for this new grieving orphan.
The fallen favourite of a Mothers beloved brood.
There would be none of us had she not been; none of his Fatherhood.
A tangled barbed root from which we each came.
Some blessing amongst much insane.
Now there she lay, dead in a bed; frozen slack still.
An empty shell; once wishing well.
Dead in a bed, not even her own.
Eyes pouring in great damming floods; others uncomfortably dry as desert bone.
Through strangers’ hands she passes, between arctic fridges of steel.
Upon the final spin of the great Mothers wheel; scions on the side-lines awaiting the final reveal.
Embalmed, freshly robed in white; encased as a doll in her satin lined box.
A gift to the soil never to spoil.

© Natasha Sinclair

Southeast Asian Fantasy

I came across this open call, quite near the end of closing, and I couldn’t pass it up. After a busy day with the family, that night, I could not sleep, which is fairly typical once an idea slithers through my head; the worm in my ear. Giving in to the noise, I fired up the laptop and tried my hand at writing Southeast Asian Fantasy Drabbles.

I wrote and submitted two; ‘Unity’ and ‘Dragon of Krakatau’ to Insignia Stories enticing call and both were accepted. I’m pleased to be included in this line-up of multinational Drabblers, including and compiled by Kelly Matsuura!

Release date to be announced very soon.

More details of Insignia Stories work, open calls and future releases can be found on their site; https://insigniastories.com/

The Macabre Ladies – Drabbles of Dread

Upcoming release from the Devilishly Devine ‘Macabre Ladies’ is their Anthology ‘Drabbles of Dread.’

As listed in my Books page, it is live for Pre-order from Amazon now, for release on the 15th July 2020!

This will be the 4th Anthology from the talented duo – Eleanor Merry and Cassandra Angler, and I’m excited to be a contributing author in 3 of these; Dark Valentine, Dark Solstice and this upcoming Drabbles of Dread. From all accounts this one promises to be the Darkest yet! So, if you enjoy dark micro horror check out this collection (and their back catalogue!)

If you’re a writer and have a dark drabble you’re itching to share with the world, then submissions are still open for a few more days – check out their website or Facebook for details on how to submit!

https://macabreladies.wixsite.com/website

Door Number Nine

Halloween was dead-quiet in the morgue, just me. Tonight, a treat behind door number nine. I didn’t need to know why she was exhumed. They were done with her now.

Doors wide open, the dark creeped in around stark light. The sound of night magic dancing through the dead. Waiting; my rotting beauty lay on her steel gurney.

Moving inside her was a sensational treat. She was underground long enough for the crawlies to move in. A localised thrill of erratic movement around my hard dick buried inside my frozen cold seductress.

I always bag up, of course, I’m no sicko.

© Natasha Sinclair. 2019.

Tease

She’s a tease.

The femme fatale disease.

Gaming with sultry eyes surprise.

Rose lips of fast lies.

Moaning ecstasy in sweet cries.

Throbbing sex lullabies.

She’s a tease to best please.

No sad begging of cheap release.

Call her out, she’ll flagrantly deny.

No longer look you in the eye.

© Natasha Sinclair