The editors of Bleeding Ink are going to share some love!

Tammy: Did you just say the word love inside the hallowed bloody walls of Bleeding Ink? *huffs*

Pat: Yes, I am aware this is the Bleeding Ink website, and we don’t normally talk about love, unless it’s a love of dark, twisted, horror, and supernatural stories . . . but . . .

Tammy: But what? Make your point woman.

Pat: Well, how about we run some contests and promotions for our new anthology; Bleeding Ink-A Collection of Dark Tales?

Lisa: I think that’s a great idea! And how about some giveaways? Ooooh and maybe a quiz, oooh and make it about the anthology itself, ooooh ooooh and and maybe have a Twitter contest and oooohhh…..

Tammy: Well in that case, I’m in! And while we’re at it how about some posts about the authors who contributed to the anthology? Then we can all get to know them better.

Pat: Excellent!

Lisa: Hey how many stories did we actually read through before we decided on the 60 we chose for the anthology?

Pat: Well, according to my spreadsheet *cause that’s how our organized and efficient little Pat rolls* we read over 200 stories!

Tammy: Holy crap! Guess I got myself so lost in all that great story telling I didn’t realise how many entries there really were.  No wonder it was impossible to choose a favourite. That’s so not like me.

Lisa: Our authors and their contributions really are THE best!!!  They ROCK! *Lisa vibrates joy cause that’s how our little ever loving Lisa rolls*

Pat: So, what are we waiting for? Let’s start plotting out some fun and games to reward our blog readers! *looks pointedly at Tammy*

Tammy: Ya ya, I’m on it. *retreats to creative thinking hovel to plot first attack* You had all better keep your eyes peeled for our post next week, cause I’m bringing out my ‘A’ game Tammy-style babes!

Lisa: Oh this is going to be so fun! Just sharing the love, like you said Pat. 🙂 Group hug!  *and Tammy pretends not to like it cause that’s just how our tough little Tammy rolls*


Ever yours,

The Ink Babes



Hear ye!  Hear ye!

Ink Babes Press announces the release of

Bleeding Ink – a Collection of Dark Tales

As promised, this anthology will thrill you, confound you, and have you sitting at the edge of your seat with over sixty deliciously dark tales leaving you breathless, in bloody stitches, or scared half-to-death!

This compilation of paranormal, supernatural, dark and twisted works— penned by forty of today’s most talented and witty writers, novice and veteran alike—will have you looking over your shoulder and turning on all the lights!

Purchase your copy today at

NOTE: As this book is rated “Adult Content” in Smashwords you must deactivate the “Adult Filter” in order to search/view.


The sound of children screaming told Lydia her timing was on point. Screaming meant they were alive.

She stepped into the open back door, Zombies were hardly known for their manners. First, she found herself in a musty kitchen then quickly made her way to the derelict staircase. With her gun in one hand and sword in the other she quickly reached the second floor and peered down the hall where the sludge marks on the carpet told her they’d headed. Well that and the screaming of course. 

Three flesh eaters were banging a broom handle up into the attic hatch. They’d actually managed to poke a few holes in it too. Lydia took a deep breath, she knew as soon as she made the first kill she’d be on the clock. Flesh-eaters might wander about in small packs, but they flocked by the hundreds when they sensed one of their own being tortured. You couldn’t say dying, because, well, they never really died. 

Lydia set the timer on her watch. Five minutes. Once the five was up, well, things could go bad. Without another blink she pushed the start button and crept up in behind and beheaded the first one and then the next. The tall one she shot in the knee and when it landed, she beheaded that one just the same. 

“Children, come out, NOW!” she yelled at the hatch. 

The tiny door quickly disappeared and children began piling out. So many and all so young. They just kept coming. She looked at one of the older ones, a girl about the age of eight,  ”How many?” 

The girl raised her chin slightly “Nine. We lost one on the way.” For some reason children couldn’t survive a zombie bite, they just died outright. Just as well, thought Lydia. 

A small boy tugged at her shirt and screamed, “Go now! Now! Now!” He was right. 

No sooner had she piled them all up into the Hummer when the street began to ooze with the flesh-eaters. Her alarm sounded. Shit. She slammed the huge vehicle into reverse. She could have driven forward of course but it would’ve mucked up the windshield. “Huddle down!” she told the kids. They did. The littlest ones whimpered every time they heard a wet smack slam into the back bumper. 

Once Lydia had ploughed over a long pile of them, the crowd began to thin out. She was finally at the outside edges of the swarm. She threw the truck into drive and took off for the desert. It was the only place left the flesh-eaters didn’t seem to want to hang out in. And who could blame them. Humans didn’t want to live out there either, not above ground anyways. The Apocalypse had destroyed more than anyone could ever have imagined. 

The drive across the desert was very long, and very hot. It was a miracle they’d found a working vehicle, but one with air conditioning would have been too much to hope for. The need to stop and re-fuel the beast from cans buried along the way sapped Lydia’s energy. Just breathing was sweaty work let alone digging up fuel cans. This was always the worst part of any mission. She’d take slaying deaders over this hell drive any day. 

“How’s everyone doing?” she yelled over the roar of the engine. “We’re nearly there now!”

No one responded. They were all too hot. The littlest ones were being cared for by the older ones who were busily grabbing water and frozen cloths from the tiny cooler bin. Even still, by the time they got where they needed to go they’d need immediate care, all of them. 

Hours passed. The cooler long since bone dry until finally the double-armed cacti she was looking for came into sight. Lydia eased back the gears and stopped shy of it. She looked around just to be sure then climbed out and tipped the cacti over to expose one of the many secret hatches to the underground. Her sister, Ruthie, shouted up from the depths, “We’re ready for them, drop ‘em down!” 

One by one, Lydia carried each half-awake half-limp child over to the hatch and dropped them down into the black hole where a med team awaited their arrival. 

Not surprisingly, the last one to get out was the girl who’d raised her chin to Lydia. She was clearly a fighter, even at her weakest. 

“What’s your name kid?” asked Lydia. 

“Diana, just like the hunting goddess.” She said proudly. 

As Lydia reached to lift her down to the ground, something grabbed at her ankle. She shoved Diana back into the truck and slammed the door before looking down, knowing it was too late anyways; the flesh eater had already sunk its sharp teeth deep into her calf. She  took a shaky breath and her sister called out to her. 

“Everything okay up there? The kids say there should be one more?” 

Lydia cried out as the thing tore the chunk of flesh from her leg. It only hurt badly for a moment before it started to feel numb. She grabbed hold of the living corpse and dragged it out from under the truck. How could she, her of all people, have been so stupid not to check the undercarriage for stragglers first?

Ruthie’s head popped up out of the hole quickly followed by her shoulder and a shotgun.

“No Ruthie!!!! Don’t shoot!” gasped Lydia, growing greyer by the second as she tried her best to out muscle the writhing half torso. The little girl, Diana, popped down out of the car and ran over to the hatch. When Lydia had a tight grip on the beast and it was restrained Diana looked her straight in the eye. 

“I’m going to be the new you. Only I’m going to kill them all. I’m going to get revenge.” And with that she dropped out of sight down the hatch. 

Ruthie and Lydia couldn’t help but share a tight grin as Ruthie helped her chuck the deader into the lockup crate. Together they tied it off up on the roof of the Hummer. No easy feat. 

“Lydster, I – “, began Ruthie.

“ – don’t say it sis. It is what it is now. I’ll drop fang-face here into the gorge then double back and leave the truck in the location of the second drop. Send Tom too get it. I – well, I’ll be waiting for him there okay?” 

The sisters embraced each other and let their tears fill in the gaps that words could never do. 

Lydia pulled back first. “Gotta hit the road sis, not much time left now.” 

Ruthie cried harder, but nonetheless she headed toward the hatch and with a final look of anguish, dropped out of sight. Lydia closed the cacti hatch and limped a sweaty blood stained path back up into the truck. 

She drove off toward the gorge, pulled the old black revolver out of the glove box, and placed it gently in her lap. She’d known the risks when she decided to become a Runner and she understood that the only ones who could hope to save humankind we’re children. They would have years ahead of them to study and build on the science already begun in the hopes of finding ways in which to abolish the creatures. 

The inscription on the gun was familiar but today, as the dead feeling in her left calve rose up to her thigh, it held more meaning than ever before. 

“Choose your afterlife.”  

Lydia knew what hers was going to be.


The Ink Babes welcome you into a realm of deliciously dark places in the upcoming anthology,

Coming Soon……. BLEEDING INK – a collection of Dark Tales

Ever Yours,

The Ink Babes

The Long Journey

We are pleased to annouce that all the pieces for the anthology have now been selected!


HUGE thank-you to all those who submitted to Bleeding Ink. Whether you were chosen for publication or not, we were honoured for the opportunity to read and share in your work.

We are now in the process of editing and compiling the accepted submissions and author bio’s as we prepare them for publication. Also working on a bloody good cover etc. *evil grin*

Our release goal date is June 1st so stay tuned for further updates!

Ever Yours,

The Ink Babes


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


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

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

Forever My Valentine

Here’s a little dark flash fiction in honour of Valentine’s Day. Yes, of course it’s a little twisted, but then would you expect anything else from us at Bleeding Ink?

A quarter mile off the main road, where only hunters ventured to wander, Gage Sanders led a group of officers through the forest searching for the missing woman. Gage was known as the best tracker in the area and knew these woods like he knew his home. He’d helped the police on more than one occasion. Walking ahead and alone, he didn’t talk. He preferred it that way. The officers following him discussed what could have happened to the woman and observed his tracking skills. He zigzagged through the bushes, doing his job, leading, and listening.

Gage stopped at the edge of a small clearing and put his hand up. The officers looked beyond Gage to a large tree where a woman hung from a branch ten feet high. 

Her shredded shirt was twisted tight and caught in the rope that hung around her neck knotted at the back, exposing plenty of bare skin. Captain Andrews pointed to the scratches and dirt on her back and the bruises on her arms and legs. Gage walked the perimeter. Captain Andrews watched him studiously.

Blood had dripped down her legs and pooled onto the ground, but most of it had dried now. As Gage and Andrews walked around in front of her, Gage stared at the hole in her chest where her heart had been. He’d never been squeamish, having gutted deer, bear and moose most of his life. He’d seen some gory things, this didn’t make him flinch. Andrews covered his mouth and watched the absence of reaction in Gage.

Gage squatted down, took off his green John Deere cap, scratched his bald head, and surveyed the area with narrowed eyes, looking around microscopically for clues.

Captain Andrews observed the tracker. “Do you see something Gage?”

“In the bushes.” Gage pointed. “Tracks.”

“I don’t see anything…” Captain Andrews eyes darted to the bushes, back to Gage, then back to the bushes again.  He walked over and parted the branches with his gloved hands.

On the ground was a half-eaten heart, taken from the woman still hanging from the tree. A hunting knife stuck out of what was left of the heart and held a note in place. He tipped his head sideways to read the note, careful not to disturb the evidence. ‘A piece of your heart will always be mine. If I can’t have you no one will.’ Andrews stared intently at the bloodied knife.

He stood up then glanced at Gage and the other officers. “I know who did it, and now I know why.”

Gage put his cap back on, and stood. “Are we done here?”

“Just about,” Captain Andrews answered. “Handcuff him.” He nodded toward Gage prompting the other officers to grab the tracker.

“When did you know?” Gage asked, no emotion in his dead eyes.

“There were no tracks into the bushes. Only you knew what was there. You wanted us to find this.”

“I loved her.”

“A little too much, I’d say,” Andrews answered. “Read him his rights,” he said through gritted teeth.


Here at Bleeding Ink Anthology, we love dark tales. The sinister, the wicked, the morbid, the supernatural, and anything that makes you wonder how or why this story happened, and makes you think about a story long after reading it.

If you have a dark story, flash fiction, or poem send it to us. We’d love to read it and consider it for our anthology.

May the dark muses continue to inspire you and bless you with creative thoughts.

Ever Yours,

The Ink Babes

Twitter Results!

Huge thanks to those who submitted and played along in the Twitter challenge, we love your spirit and appreciate it. 🙂

In no particular order, here are your own darklings we’d like to share on your behalf;

M_Gideon Aaron ConawayYour neighbor always watched you. Did you know? He decided to do it while watching you sleep. They’ll find your body. Eventually

writerlouise Marianne Su: A flame slithered like a ghost at the end of a match. She let it fall, smiling as the fire spread, flames cackling with laughter.

falcatatimes Gareth Wilson: The Vampire Press had never had such a good run thanks to the fat human who’d been “pressed” into service. 

Dannigrrl5 Danielle La Paglia: Suffocating darkness. I scream w/no sound. I hear the tears, the last rites read, & the scrape of a shovel in freshly turned earth.

Really wonderful submissions and perhaps we’ll do this again sometime, cheers!

Ever yours,

The Ink Babes

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