Sins of the Heart and Flesh
By L. L. Marco

The man stumbled out of yet another bar. Liquor permeated his clothes and his breath reeked of alcohol and bar food. He could hardly stand straight. That did little to dissuade him, however. The night was young and his gaze had locked upon a woman hovering, alone, in the mouth of a nearby alley. Black hair cascaded down her slender back, accented by a gorgeous red wedding dress that hugged her waist and flowered out beneath. She seemed so out of place on the busy street. A flower in a desert. He had to have her. He couldn’t pull his gaze away… he didn’t want to.

Ring!

His phone screamed out and sliced through his thoughts. His lip curled with disgust.

“Whadda ya want, skank?”

“W-Where are you–”

“Don’t wait up.”

“Wait, please—!”

Click. The phone slid into his pocket for the last time; his wedding band snagging for just a moment. The woman waited. Waited just for him. He approached and she turned, fading deeper into the darkness. Hungry, he followed. How could he not? His fingers twitched in anticipation of how she might feel beneath them.

Lust caressed at his drunken mind, carrying him to the back of the alley. The faint scent of blossoms followed behind her and the sway of her hips… God, he was salivating. He couldn’t wait a moment longer. Without warning, he grabbed and spun her around.

A smile bloomed across her face. For just a moment clarity graced his drunken mind and fear replaced his carnal desire. Her skin felt unnaturally cool to the touch. Glistening canines sparkled from behind her lips. Her eyes gleamed bloody red and wild.

Claws constricted his throat before he could scream. She watched with disgust as his filthy body writhed under her grasp. The way he’d spoken to that woman, the putrid smell on his skin, the lust that had consumed him… he was disgusting. A stain on this world. Blood burst from around her nails as she squeezed his neck, twisting his warm living flesh with her icy dead skin.

“You’ll harm her no more.”

“The Queen of Hearts”
By Hemming Sebastian Bane

In the witching hours, she comes to the cemetery. The grave dirt brushes her toes as the morning dew clings to the hem of her dress. Her shoulder throbs as the heavy shovel digs into it. When she comes to a place among the graves where the earth is soft, she stoops down and smells the earth. Then she finds the freshest body she can. Digs it up. Pries the lid off the pine box. Unsheathes her knife and gets to work. Her harvest is one of flesh and spirit, sinew and blood. Her reward for her efforts is a heart.

She returns home with her trophy and begins her dread ritual. Places the heart upon a pedestal. The forbidden words choke the candles of the room. Shadows reach for the heart. Fight each other for who shall claim it. One shadow crawls inside. Its heartbeat begins anew. She puts it in a jar and upon a shelf. Then she waits.

She waits for the sound of clumsy steps. Of ragged breathing. Of a gentle knock at her door. She smiles and embraces the heartless corpse. She is the Mother of the Undead, who calls them up and directs their movements. She is death’s loathed enemy. But she prefers the name “Queen of Hearts”.

She has many hearts. Hearts of men, hearts of women, even the hearts of children. Large people, small people, skinny people, round people. To her, just about any heart is good for the taking. Each night their withered husks dance to the tune of her vile spell. Their movements jerk like the death spasms of a headless chicken. Their limbs flail about, backwards and twisted.

And the Queen of Hearts laughs. So many friends to dance with now. And with how things were progressing, she is soon to have more. Many, many more.

In The Heart of Ice
by Matthew (Handsome Johanson)

It was a chilly winter afternoon, and despite my best protests, my best friend, Lucas, had convinced me to brave the cold into the hilly forest at the edge of town. We hiked through nearly empty, snow-covered streets until we reached the border of the Shady Woods.

Before us, the twisting oaks and tumbled rocks of the wood lay about, and with the slippery ice, every step we took was carefully measured.

After nearly falling for the fourth time, I stopped and pulled on Lucas’s hand. “Look, can’t we wait til spring for this? We’re going to get hurt.”

“Trust me, Ana, It’ll be worth it. We’re going to be famous!”

I smirked. “Yeah, I can see the headlines now. Two College Students Found Dead in Shady Woods. Investigation says they died of dumbassery.”

Lucas laughed and reached out towards me. “Come on, I’ll keep you safe. I know you’ll love it. Just trust me.”

I reluctantly took his hand, the sparkle in his eye that made me fall in love with him wooing me all over again.

“Ok fine, but I won’t forgive you if this turns out to be nothing.”

He nodded and carefully helped me around the stones and roots on our path. As we passed a particularly loose pile of stones, we see it, our destination. Many of the larger stones had been dislodged by the weather, revealing the entrance to a barrow.

Barrows exist all over the country, mainly from the early Celtic peoples who lived here in the neolithic. However, none had yet been discovered in this county. Lucas was right, we would be famous.

I gave him a quick squeeze and an excited squeal and headed down to examine the barrow.

“Haha I knew you’d appreciate it.”

“How did you even find this?” I asked, brimming with excitement.

“You’d be surprised at the things you find looking for good firewood.”

I laughed and climbed into the entrance. I grab my phone and turn on the flashlight. As I look up back into the barrow, I see a skull looking back.

It was moving.

“Cardiac Assembly”
by Exce [Checked by Wvlf and Lunar]

The gate closed shut with a heavy thump, and he heard the heavy locks engage.
Despite the heat produced by the machinery and the ovens, he had ordered every window closed and all latches sealed.

Johanson was the only person in the enormous hangar, just as he had ordered.
He had divested himself of the usual white overcoat, and instead wore heavy leather gloves that reached all the way up to his elbows.

But this was the only protection he had allowed himself. If this went wrong – well, he’d rather go fast.

Pushing the heavy cargo trolley forwards, he came closer and closer to the massive shape that sat crouched at the other end of the hangar. With the external power disconnected, the artificial beast sat as if dead, the light in its eyes gone and the body not more than an extravagant statue.

“Not for long now.”

On the trolley sat what seemed to be an enormous clear crystal, perfectly cut to shape, faint light shining forth even as Johanson entered the machine’s shadow.

They had run the routines, planned for the eventualities and tested for emergencies. And yet, nothing could replace the final assembly.

The master mechanic walked around the trolley, slowly lifting the crystal, which, despite its size, was amazingly light.

If they had missed a single weak connection, had misjudged the output of this Soulcrystal, or if the socket did not precisely match the heart..

Then he would die.

Feeling an almost electric current all the way through the gauntlets, Johanson placed the pièce de résistance of his latest creation into its chest.

It clicked once, twice and thrice.

Slowly, as if in slow motion, the engineer lowered his arms and crept backwards, watching as light cascaded outwards from the crystal which was now pulsing in a slow rhythm.

With a series of soft clanks, the joints unlocked and light returned to the winged reptilian’s eyes as it slowly rose from the crouch.

Johanson exhaled in a hiss as the mighty warmachine bowed its head, beholding its creator who had given it the spark of life.

Matchmaker
By Giovanna J. Fuller

“You know,” Isme said in a low voice, her eyes still fixed on the cluster of deep red crystals resting on the table, “I can’t focus with you breathing spit on my neck.”

The source of the wet, warm air suddenly jerked away from her. “Y-you’re taking-”

“A long time?” Isme asked in a monotone. “These things take time…”

“I’m paying-”

“Paying me a lot of money?” She still stared at semi-translucent rocks. “You’re the one who wanted a private reading. It would have been half the price if you had just waited till I actually saw something. But, no.” The woman with the fire red hair and deep magenta eyes looked away from her task and to her customer. “You needed to know right now.”

The customer, a man in his middle age, weakened by a lifetime behind a desk and away from the strengthening rays of the sun, had such empty and lifeless eyes, that Isme couldn’t help, but pity him. He had come to her after leaving the hospital where he had been recovering from a heart attack. The close call with death had given him a new perspective. He realized what he truly wanted, but he had squandered so many of his days that he didn’t want to take the traditional route. He wanted specific directions to his soulmate.

She gave him a reassuring smile. “You needn’t worry. I’ve been doing this…” she trailed off, unsure how to quantify her experience into linear time, “for a long time.”

“They say you’re the best.”

“I am.” She turned back to the cluster and watched the light dance in the complicated maze of minerals. Quickly, as though she had been anticipating it, she broke off a piece. “Take this.” She put it in his hands. “It will lead you.”

The man’s face was filled with a rosy, excited hue as he thanked her profusely before leaving.

Isme sighed and stretched till her back popped and the tension released from her shoulders. Her gaze wandered idly back to the ancient item. She frowned. “That’s new…” she muttered to herself.

Courting of The Night
by Gage Jarman

The thin, gaunt man waltzed towards the blindfolded woman, humming a melody to himself. He twirled gracefully, carrying an object loosely wrapped in an exquisite silk cloth. He bowed before the woman holding out the parcel. He was absolutely giddy. His grin was impossibly large, revealing ivory fangs. He practically sang as he spoke.

“Now darling, if you would be ever so kind to indulge my eccentricities, hold out your hands. I know you’re going to be thrilled.”

The woman wore a pert smile. “If I must. I should at least witness whatever has gotten you so excitable lately.”

The silk slumped in her palms. Her face soured. It was soft and cold and wet. The object undulated suddenly. The woman screamed, tearing off the blindfold. The object fell and slapped against the stone floor. The man’s smile shifted into one of trepidation.

“Darling, whatever is the matter? Do you not like it? It cost me much hardship to obtain it for you.”

The woman was shaken and gazed at the bulge beneath the silk. “… What is it?”

“Oh, I’m not supposed to do that. You have to open it. What good is a gift if it’s not a surprise?”

“Just tell me, please.”

“Very well, but know that I think you’re soiling this whole affair.” His pallid fingers wrapped around the fabric once more. He pinched the corners, one by one, and began delicately peeling back the layers. “It would have been so much more enjoyable had you done this, but here you are.”

A dark shriveled heart beat in the man’s palm. The woman shrank back. Something swirled in the pit of her stomach. Her instincts told her to flee, but her mind was still questioning her suitor’s queer offering.

“Why? Why would I desire such a vile thing?”

A drop of blood trickled down from the man’s large, sorrowful eyes. “Darling, do you find my own heart so revolting? My affection isn’t as capricious as a mortal’s. I wish to give you everything. If you merely consumed but a piece, I would be with you forever.”

The Toll
By Connor/Dragoneye

“Forgive me, brothers and sisters, but I must release.”

Hafyli’s eyes fluttered open to a familiar voice, kneeling before the cave wall.

“Kofnee, what are you doing?” she groggily asked, shuffling atop the bed of grass and fur.

He remained silent.

“Please answer me.”

Kofnee’s unshapely face turned around. “I’ll be going soon.”

Hafyli couldn’t help but grit her teeth in frustration. “Listen to me, Kofnee. I understand your pain, but if you come with me back to my village, there could be a new start for you. My father bestows a blessing upon you, we get married, you join our tribe, and you don’t have to worry about this hunt of yours. Leave it behind. Come with me.”

“I can’t.”

“But you can. I’m trying to help you in the best way I know.”

Kofnee sprung to his feet, shouting, “How do you know what’s best for me?”

“What good will severing the hands of those who massacred your tribe do?”

“My heart will be soothed! At peace! Released! You don’t understand it, do you, Hafyli? A chieftain’s daughter who sleeps with whatever man they want, only to throw them away. I should’ve let that tiger maul you.”

Hafyli met his gaze standing up, wrapping the tiger skin blanket around her bare skin. Her brow furrowed, and her words first hissed with venom, then sorrow, “You think of me as a whore? You treated me as a bride! I don’t know where this just came from, but this isn’t you!”

Tears rolled down Hafyli’s face as Kofnee moved to the cave’s entrance. “This isn’t the way to be at peace. Paying blood with blood will always cost more of it than you wish. It will do nothing but bring more hurt.”

“You don’t know that,” Kofnee growled.

“Maybe I don’t. But I know there’s a better man inside of you somewhere.”

Prom
by Carrie (Glaceon373)

The school gym had been transformed into a well-decorated dance floor, with streamers criss-crossing the ceiling and crystalline lights floating in the air. The southeast corner was the designated food area, and the whole north wall was the stage. The band played selections of their own music, as well as covers of popular songs.

High school prom was going splendidly.

“How are you doing?” Sam asked Roselyn, both of them sitting at a food table holding plastic cups of soda.

“Sam, I’m fine,” Roselyn giggled softly. “Really. I am.”

“Okay, just, y’know…” Her hand-me-down suit and green tie suddenly seemed very tight, “you got out of the hospital, like, eight hours ago.”

“Mmhm.”

“And now you’re…at prom. With me.”

“Of course.”

“ Not that, like, the ‘with me’ part matters, but—”

“Sam.”

“Yes?” Sam’s bat ears perked up.

Roselyn laughed. “As much as I appreciate your caring and compassion, I’m fine. I promise.”

“I, er, uh, are you sure? You don’t look so good. Not in a bad way, but like, in an in-pain…way…?” Sam tried to ignore her claw-like fingers shaking on the table.

“Okay, it does still kinda ache, but I’m wearing enough makeup that the scars aren’t visible and this flowy dress hides the bandages. Plus, I’ve been going to fancy parties since I was five. This isn’t anywhere near the hardest thing I’ve done.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she smirked. “That honor goes to trying not to fall in love with you.”

Sam froze. “Er—um—really?”

“Obviously! Have you seen that adowable wittle face of yours?”

Sam flushed red and immediately covered her face. Roselyn burst out laughing, clutching her side where a giant bandage rested underneath her green dress.

The current song ended and a new one began. Roselyn stood up from her chair and reached a hand towards Sam. “C’mon. We should dance at least once.”

Sam looked up at her, then took the hand delicately. “Sure! I mean, if you’re okay with me stepping on your feet a bunch—”

“You’re not THAT bad!” Roselyn smiled, pulling Sam to the center of the dance floor.

Of Hearts and Hands
By RVMPLSTLSKN (Saga of The Deep One’s Wake)

There are fewer animals less suited to eating than dogs. For Vienas, the reason is simple: dogs eat vermin and carry diseases; this is known. Yet she did not complain. She knew Padas had been too poor to indulge in the luxury of killing useful animals. He relished meat the way she had once relished prayer-spelling. The dog meat was a break in the monotony of tastes, however taboo.

A soft cut, he had said.

‘Still,’ she thought, ‘waste not.’

They sat next to the Everflame, Padas staring into the light while Vienas stared into the void. She was pensive and chewed the heart-meat he had given her. She was worried by a feeling of familiarity.

As Ziniu’s high priestess—high scribe and scholar really—she had been heir to certain gifts of that office. She knew the games of godhood from tedious study. She knew the intuition she had received, before The Deep One rose, had not been herself. It had been part of the office and had gone away when The Deep One called. That was why she had hidden. She was more afraid of that loss than of The Deep One itself.

But it came back. An impossibility in degrees. She had felt it return as she gripped Karas’s sword. She felt the whisper of awareness not quite her own. The spatial knowledge and desire to protect her books. To live.

How; it was the only question worthy of asking.

But she knew the games of godhood, so her mind turned to the pearls and rang with a dead god’s message. “…for you, the Living.”

A prayer and reminder to keep living.

She leaned into Padas and breathed deep. She relaxed, the anxiety of the day leaving her muscles. Rather than a matter of passions or carnal necessity, perhaps this could be a matter of convenience. For both of them.

“Do you think others survived?” she asked

He grunts something indecisive.

She smiles, remembering the pearls and suddenly feeling very glad he was who he was.

“What?”

In response, she kissed him and felt his arms fold around her.

Routine Core Examination 3026 (Corespace Universe)
By Calliope Rannis

Clay pushed himself off the metal walkway, floating gently in the humming air. Behind him was the metal wall of the gargantuan cavern in the centre of the world. Ahead, freefloating in the gravity well and anchored in place by many hanging cables, was a huge, shimmering platinum sphere. The central AI Core of the city-planet Vang.

Her heart…

Using bursts of air from the propulsion pack on his back, he crossed the abyssal gap towards the Core. Beside him was a solid-light projection of a golden-haired woman, smile bright and confident, cheerily floating along without effort. As Clay reached the shifting, semi-liquid surface, he looked around in confusion.

“Down here!” He shifted his gaze back to his companion, as she gracefully flew to a lower section of the sphere. Following close behind, he watched as the fluid shrank away from her glowing touch, exposing the port he needed to access.

Reaching into his pocket, Clay took out his diagnostic key, comparing it with the port. Yup, definitely the right place. He moved to put it in, before pausing.

“Freya, are you okay with this? I have heard the Core diagnostic process can be pretty-”

“Oh!” A hint of surprise. “I have had these examinations thousands of times before, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“…You sure?”

“It’s okay, really.” Her smile was warm and gentle.

Clay nodded, and inserted the key into the Core. He couldn’t help but notice Freya’s wince as he did. The sphere shuddered beneath his hands. Her projection flickered uncomfortably, as though it could shatter with a breeze.

Instinctively, he reached out to hold her hand, warm skin clinging to shivering light.

Freya looked up in shock for a second, before he felt her grip tighten in his.

A moment later, it was over. The sphere went quiet, her projection stabilised. The key slid automatically out of the port with a triumphant bleep. Clay turned back to the shining woman before him. “There. All done for another year.”

Her smile was weak, but thankful. “Yes. All done for now.”

They were still holding hands.