An offering to Lord Devereaux on this twenty-sixth day of Flash Fiction February. A man stays behind in an evacuated Arctic town to watch the fuel depot, but isolation twists the familiar into something unsettling, and his grip on reason erodes as the long dark closes in.
Damn good psychological horror. The slow erosion of reality felt authentic. I am a visual reader and could see and "feel" felt the isolation "become" the monster. Your prose was "controlled dread" and landed really well. This is good!
This is, please excuse the pun, chilling. The dread, all of it.
Yeah, I just couldn’t do the vampire thing. Especially with folklore. There’s no vampire analogue in Inuit culture that would fit, so…..
Yeah I mentioned vampires but didnt go there either….
Damn good psychological horror. The slow erosion of reality felt authentic. I am a visual reader and could see and "feel" felt the isolation "become" the monster. Your prose was "controlled dread" and landed really well. This is good!
Thanks, that’s what I was going for, that “controlled dread.” A lot of my fiction kind of lives in that space.
Dude. This is beautifully paced, and the voice of the narrator is so clear. Loved it, ya smashed it!
HWAHHHHHH I'M SO SCARED NOW I SHOULD NOT HAVE READ IT FOR BEDTIME STORY 😭🫠🫠🫠