*editor’s note: Please be advised that this story contains blood play. We realize this is a hard limit for some people and wanted to advise our readers accordingly.
“Reflections Left Behind”
by Natasha Leullier
Sandy’s puckered moon face and firefly eyes reflected in her great-grandmother’s mirror. Her hair and dress were crisp with dried seawater, and orange oak leaves plastered her Mackintosh coat. She held the telescope against her chest and smiled at the framed photo of William sitting behind her on the writing desk. She would keep watch for the missing whalers now that the craven lighthouse keeper had fled along with every other villager. Through the miracle of the looking glass, they were side by side again, she in bedraggled attire and William with his waxed mustache and special occasion stovepipe hat. The flame above Sandy’s one candle danced, begging for its life, and expired. The world became silver; the Nor’easter offering its own sickly light. But it was the tide smashing against the shingles that made Sandy shiver and a great fist upon the cottage that made her shake.
If the storm was intent on claiming her, she might as well return to the docks and lead the confrontation. Her heart pounded throughout her body, throbbing against her temples, fingertips, and even the intimate nook between her legs. How she could think of such things in the storm… And yet, the fear, her bewildered courage, made her long for William’s touch.
Continue reading Halloween Microfiction: Reflections Left Behind by Natasha Leullier
by Rachel Bender
The embers of the day were dying by the time I kindled the fire. Surrounded by darkness and by the rattle of fallen leaves, I cupped my hands around that fragile heat, coaxing it to life with my breath. It leapt between my palms, eager, hungry.
Tonight was the night.
Continue reading Halloween Microfiction: Moonrise by Rachel Bender
“Black Hole-Bookshop Boy”
by Ellis Sandry
It’s been a tough day, but I’m becoming a good counselor. I try to hang on to that optimism as I weave between the High Street shoppers: a kid who crackles with crimson anger; a businessman who’s bearing a radiant golden grudge.
I pause to peer through the window of my favourite bookshop. Inside, a young man is unboxing hardbacks, graceful and precise. The satin back of his waistcoat is straining. He’s tweedy, floppy-fringed, tempting. My beautiful black-hole bookshop boy.
Continue reading Microfiction: Black-Hole Bookshop Boy by Ellis Sandry
It might be HOT, HOT, HOT outside but here at Circlet Press we’re already thinking autumn thoughts and you know what that means! It’s time to submit your spooky/sexy/scary October microfictions and flash fiction. As in years past, these microfictions will be posted on our website during the month of October leading up to Halloween. Payment is $5 and you retain all rights.
Stories can be any length up to 1500 words. No reprints. No excerpts from novels. Multiple submissions are okay.
All stories must be erotic and fit within the theme. All gender pairings are welcome and we strongly encourage marginalized writers to submit work to us. All stories must also be sex positive.
Send stories where underage characters engage in sexual acts.
Send fan fiction with or without the serial numbers filed off.
Send stories where the consent is ambiguous or takes place after the act. Consent MUST be apparent BEFORE the sexual act.
Send demon summoning stories.
Send stories set at Halloween parties that focus on sexy costumes.
Send me stories longer than 1500 words.
Send me stories with no erotic content.
Send me stories where lovers kill each other.
Send stories where witches are evil monsters.
Send stories set inside haunted attractions.
Think outside the box. The theme here is pretty broad. We want stories that are erotic that also fit into horror/autumn/Halloween. Send us stories that celebrate the season in some way. Scare us while turning us on. Give us period pieces or pieces set in the far future. Make us think of leaves crunching underfoot, the smell of wood smoke carried on chill air, and harvest festivals in preparation for the dead of winter. Do this in a way that celebrates physical pleasure. A happy ending is not necessary though please bear in mind that I will not accept any stories where lovers murder each other in cold blood. Humorous stories are okay too so long as they fit with the theme.
Please send submissions to firstname.lastname@example.org as either a Word doc or in the body of the email. Please also include a short bio. Deadline is October 1st.
“The Muse’s Music”
by Michael M. Jones
Ask Diana what her favorite instrument is, and the answer might surprise you. After a few thousand years, she’s heard them all, from the pan pipes to the theremin, from the harp to the saxophone. Mastered them, too. The one-time muse of music, the once-called Euterpe, who now owns a club named for her and plays at being human. But of all the many instruments she loves the piano most of all. The feel of the keys, the range of harmony, the energy. (Ask her about Billy Joel, about Liberace, about Chopin, about Thelonious Monk. Diana has enjoyed many identities over the years. Music calls to her, not specific bodies.)
Continue reading Microfiction: The Muse’s Music by Michael M. Jones
“A Trilling Song at Twilight”
by Natasha Leullier
A bird of steel grey alighted by the woman’s clenched fist. With deft claws it pried apart her delicate fingers and picked at the desiccated flowers within.
“Strange food for your journey,” said the bird.
Continue reading Microfiction: A Trilling Song at Twilight by Natasha Leullier
by Keller Marie
Gabriel moaned under him, one hand clinging to the headboard as the other fisted into the sheets. His head was thrown back, exposing his throat, sweat clinging to his skin and Lune was unable to tear his eyes from his partner’s Adam ’s apple as he swallowed. Lune could smell the lust, the want and need to continue to reach completion. His lover’s body was tight, muscles quivering as he bucked his hips to meet every sharp thrust he made.
Continue reading Microfiction: The Pack by Keller Marie
“Sam and the Apple Tree Man”
by Stella Huerto
In the wild apple grove in the woods, Sam sometimes saw the young man. It started when Sam was fourteen and just realizing he was gay, and had continued every autumn for the ten years since. The stranger’s sly face peeked down at him between sun-dappled branches, or his tattered brown jacket and bare feet flashed by as he darted behind trunks. The man had always looked to be in his twenties, never changing in all the years. He only ever showed when Sam came alone, never when Sam’s sister or father were along.
Continue reading Halloween Microfiction: Sam and the Apple Tree Man By Stella Huerto
by Michelle J. Norton
Listen closely to the whispers.
She runs through the woods as her mother’s warning echoes through her mind. Trees bolt past her on the worn stone path, cloak enshrouding her. The dark woods close about her. Soon the stones end and the path becomes dirt. Her journey would take twenty minutes, thirty if she walked. She runs.
Continue reading Halloween Microfiction: Listen by Michelle J. Norton
“An Offering to the Forest”
by TS Porter
The dryads survived.
Humanity came, with fire and axes, smoke-belching machines ever larger, and chemicals increasingly caustic, but the dryads survived. The great forests were felled, the fae retreated, and many gods died, but the dryads remained. They learned new words for fear—clearcut, feller-buncher, defoliant—but they never faltered.
Continue reading Halloween Microfiction: An Offering to the Forest by TS Porter