The Submission Deadline Approaches…

Tick…Tick…Tick…

The deadline approaches.

Tick…Tick…Tick…

One more deliciously dark night to pen your gruesome tale.

Tick…Tick…Tick…

Submissions accepted until MIDNIGHT EST March 31st 2012

Tick…Tick…Tick…

We wait with bated breath. Dream darkly. 😉

Ever Yours,

The InkBabes

The Beast

The Beast lies within me. Building, growing.

I feel her.

She waits for her release so that she may have her way with my hand.

Begging me now. Pleading to do as she pleases, say what she wants, be who she is, to be free.

I try to fight her, but I know I will lose. She always wins.

Sweating, I try to continue to read the pile of submissions but it’s a useless effort. No longer can I focus on the words scrawled upon the pages. All I see now is red. Loving, blissful, red.

Let me out

No!

You will, I can wait

My hand tenses and begins to twitch, this way, then that. I’m losing control. It’s winning. She’s winning.

NO! You cannot, I will not let you!

Yes, you will. And you love it too, you know you do.  

The grimace on my face is bitter and yet hopeful at the same time. Of course she’s right. I do want it. I want it so badly. My palms are sweating now, moist, like my lips. My breath is quick.  

Ever so slowly, my fingertips creep their way down.

Nearly there. Yes. I can feel it now. Warmth, heat, until…

Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh please, yes!

Deep inside my secret place fingers delve and plunge, seeking what they crave until, at last, release. Triumphant and spent I pull the red pen from its hidey place at the back of the hidden compartment in my desk drawer.

Free at last

My fingers hold the pen as the proper treasure that it is. A gift beyond all gifts.

Impatiently I grab the closest stack of papers and begin to release its power one cruel edit at a time. 

Slash, stab, slash, edit, stab, slash, cut, delete, correct, slash, hack, slice, edit, stab some more….

Oh the joy of it!  How foolish not to see me for what I really am.

We belong together, you and I.

Yes, we do. I will never store you away like that again.

From now on I will only use that hideyhole for a proper purpose,  like, eyeball collection storage.

Submission deadline is looming, March 31st! Get your ghoulish goodies in before it’s too late. We promise to be gentle. 😉

Ever yours,

The InkBabes

Green…with Envy

“It’s not yours, you selfish, black-Irish lass,” he grunted, slamming his body against mine.

“Well, it’s certainly not yours, you little fairy,” I said, elbowing him and then reaching out to pull his top hat over his eyes. He cried out an obscenity as I pried his fingers loose from the coveted prize.

“How dare you speak to me in that tone and how dare you accost me?” The leprechaun’s beady, red eyes met my gaze with contempt. “I am Gareth the Great. Haven’t you heard the stories about me? How I’ll go to great lengths to get what I want.” The wee-one cocked his head, giving me a sneer. “You should be quivering in your shoes.”

“Me? Afraid of you? You’ve got to be kidding,” I said. “You’ve no idea what I do or what I’ve seen. Believe me, I don’t scare easily.”

“I warn you, you should be frightened, lass.” He righted his hat and straightened out his black velvet vest. “Very frightened.”

“Is that so? Well, Gareth, you don’t know how far I’d go to keep your grubby hands off what’s mine. And yes, I have heard the stories. I’ve read a few submissions featuring you.”

“Really?” The leprechaun glanced at my hands, their contents glowing in the lamp light. He licked his lips. “I’ll give you my gold,” he whispered, jingling coins in his pocket.

“I don’t want it.”

“What do you mean, you don’t want it!” He shouted, glaring at me. “Everyone wants my gold. They sing about it, make movies about it, some have even died for it!”

“Well, I’m not everyone.”

“You wicked wench!” His face reddened as he fisted his hands and stomped his feet in an angry jig. “Then. What. About. Wishes?”

“What about them?” I shrugged.

“I’ll give you three,” he said, clenching his teeth, “in exchange for that draft of the Bleeding Ink Anthology.”

“I don’t want your wishes and this draft is for the InkBabes’ eyes only, buddy. Oh, by the way, I’m more than just an editor, you oaf! I’ve a talent for brewing up deadly potions that can take care of the likes of you in a blink of an eye, so you’d better check your temper little man, and back off.”

“But, I can’t,” he whined, clicking his heel against the floor. “I’m dying to read it!”

“And you will, soon enough. Just like everybody else.” I grabbed the shamrock plant sitting on the end table and took aim. “Now, get out of my house before I crack your skull!”

“Ooh you temperamental writer!” He took a step back. “Okay, I’m going, but you haven’t heard the last from me.” He shook his finger. “I’ve sent in a little ditty, meself, I did. Expect to find my submission in your inbox.”

And with that, the Leprechaun stormed out of my house, slamming the door behind him.

Who knew the wee-folk wrote dark fiction?

If any of you have a dark tale to share, send it in to us at Bleeding Ink.  Like Gareth the Great, we’re dying to read them!

Submission deadline, March 31st 2012

We at Bleeding Ink wish you all a lucky St. Patrick’s Day!

Ever Yours,

The InkBabes

Letter from TUBS to The Ink Babes

 
 
TUBS
666 Wolf Wind Way
Vampireville, Otherworld
 
 
 
 
 
Dear Ink Babes,               
 
Please be advised that I represent The Union of Beings Supernatural, otherwise known in our realm as TUBS. We wish to advise you that although we don’t mind you writing about us, we would like to make the following demands since you are including many of us in your stories and works of writing. Specific requests are detailed below from our prestigious members, and union heads.
 

1.       The Devil would like a soul mate in exchange for all the stories written about him, he never receives any compensation,  and it’s  long overdue.  

He saw Tammy’s picture, and said he would ensure she enjoys hot temperatures and a comfortable leadership position as his wife. He’s already drafted a contract for her soul and said to tell her to bring coins for the ferryman.

 

2.       Dracula speaks for all vampires and he is asking for access to a blood bank. Seems he’s asked all vampires to stay low-key these days, especially the sparkly ones. A blood bank would alleviate those mysterious ‘drained of blood’ deaths the cops have to keep finding new excuses for. If a blood bank is not something you can provide, he is willing to accept Pat into his seethe. He promises to grant her immortality and many years filled with an exciting nightlife.

 

3.       Lycaon, head of the werewolf line, would like a mate since he lost his in a rather gruesome battle. After seeing Lisa’s picture on Bleeding Ink, he wants her to become his wolf-mate for life.

Of course she would have to become a werewolf. He promises plenty of red meat, lots of exercise, and nights of baying under a romantic full moon with him.

 

4.       Our witch coven has cast a love spell on you babes. They love the dark images and posts you’ve created, and are thrilled you’ve given them the credit they deserve for so many wicked little stories. They’ve decided that romantic unions with heads of the union would be perfect and they’re even willing to become your wedding planners.

Gruesomely yours,
Frankenstein, CEO/TUBS
 
 

We at Bleeding Ink love a little humour in our lives. We love the dark, the twisted, the occult, supernatural, haunting, and any story that gives the reader something to think about long after he or she has read it. If you have a dark tale to tell, send it to us. We’d love to read them, and possibly include them in our anthology.

Our deadline is March 31, 2012, so submit your polished work to us.

 

Ever Yours,

The Ink Babes  

Those Poor Bloody Babes

So the other day I’m reading through a pile of submissions to Bleeding Ink Anthology (yes I actually print them off to read them), anyways I pick up this one particular story and get this nasty paper cut from it. Like, really bad. So immediately I look around for sparkling vampires, cause ya now, you can’t be too sure in my line of work, anyways, no such luck.

So I grab a Band-aid and find myself thinking Wow this must be a really AWESOME story, it made me bleed! I lcheck the title and it’s called One Babe At A Time, and the author? Yours truly. ME. Um ya, except for one little problem, I didn’t write it.

Naturally I’m curious so I carry it with me down to the basement, curl up under the sofa light, and begin to read;

Once upon a time there were three bloody babes…

Well, it was a long story, I’ll sum up; A macabre tale describing how I was going to kill off my two fellow Ink Babes in a big bloody mess during which I did A LOT of evil cackling until they were dead dead dead. Good times. Well at least until the next day when I apparently died of a paper cut I received whilst reading their obits in the local news rag.

At the time I thought it all very ironic but now that I’m here writing this letter from the ‘other’ side, I’m rather less than amused. I’m sure you can imagine why. I’m also sure you’re wondering why I’m telling you all this and where you fit in?

Well you see it’s like this, I stumbled across another story shortly before my untimely death and um, apparently it was written by yourselves. It went something like this;

Once upon a time there were a bunch of bloody blog readers…

The clock is ticking people and time is running out, closing date for the anthology is March 31st!!! Be sure to get any outstanding submissions in to us pronto!

Ever yours,

The Ink Babes

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