ISSUE 7: Flash Fiction Spotlight

ISSUE 6: In a Flash (Fiction) ISSUE 8: ✨It's (almost) Showtime! ✨

ISSUE 7: Flash Fiction Spotlight

Hey Stack-o-rinos!

I’m rounding the corner on Haunted House Flippers! I feel like I’ve edited my fingers off, ARCs went out last Sunday, and all the dominoes are lined up for go time.

I’ve loved every minute of this, and I’m glad I did a short story collection before doing a full-length novel. I’ve learned SO much, and I think I’ve prepared myself for future works.

Speaking of future works, I’m SO EXCITED to get back to my WIP! Poor Siren got left in the dust back in July when I pivoted to HHF, but I’m ready to fall back into my writing routine and just let the words flow. (Get it—Siren? Water? Flow? 🤣)

So while I haven’t entirely given up on querying, I’m not holding my breath. I’m preparing. (Which might as well be my middle name—I love a plan!)

Here’s what you have to look forward to from your friend KLB:

A free four-week winter serial here on Substack! (Jack Frost, anyone? ❄️🌬️)

Grief Sucks 🧛 Summer/Fall 2026

Siren 🧜‍♀️ Spring 2027

Night Terrors 🛌 Fall 2027

…and the cycle continues with the goal of publishing 1-2 works per year. Rigorous? For sure! Setting myself up for failure? Potentially 😅 Excited? ABSOLUTELY 🤩

As the kids say, let’s get this bread.

So what are your plans? What are you working toward? What do I need to keep my eyes on?

Tell me in the comments!

👻KLB

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…now for the scaries part.

For this Sunday Scaries, I’d like to highlight two absolutely wonderful writers here on Substack who participated in my flash fiction last issue!

Lucky Heather by

The sweet, resinous scent of the burning heather filled the air as the villagers gathered around the bonfire. This had been the best Rushcart Festival in years, they told themselves.

They drank and danced, trying to forget the darkness that had washed over the village only a few weeks before. That poor family, losing a young child like that.

Before heading home, villagers stopped off at the food van; the butcher’s sausages and burgers had been sublime this year. Tender and juicy with just the right amount of spice.

Others picked up some lucky heather, hoping it would bless their coming year. Some thought of the family and prayed that their daughter would be found.

The butcher stayed behind after everyone had gone to clean up.

Ironic the missing girl’s name was Heather. It hadn’t been so lucky for her.

Her screams had been almost melodic. He smiled. Such beautiful screams, and she had tasted divine, at least all the villagers had said so. Not that they knew. But they had enjoyed her so much he had barely had a taste.

Such a shame she’d never be found. Not a trace of evidence.

He walked over and knelt by the dying bonfire, his fingers trembling, as he picked through and collected the charred bones, placing them in a sack ready to be swallowed by the sea.

About the Author:

- Is a self-published author! She is currently on a mission to write 12 books in 12 months (Godspeed 🫡). You can find her recently released book Thirst Impressions, on Kindle Unlimited!

Roxanne’s SubstackMy book is published! (And it’s on Amazon Unlimited!I’m officially published…Read more3 months ago · 2 likes · 2 comments · Roxanne Louise

The Thirteenth Flame by

The fire sparks and crackles, blowing embers into the midnight sky like shooting stars. Thirteen naked forms drift in a haphazard circle, silhouettes of many shapes and ages – all moving to a pounding drum that fills the night with sacred power.

Tonight the coven has gathered for one shared purpose – a shared dream. They’ve worked toward this night for centuries. Every loss. Every struggle and sacrifice. All building to this fateful moment.

Mother Irina calls a halt; the drums fall silent as the dancers drift to stillness. Soon wavering flames are the only movement in the clearing.

Irina’s deep voice rings out, “My sisters. Thank you for your commitment. It is… finally… our time.”

A whisper of pleased agreement and anticipation flows through the group.

She turns to look at the youngest witch present and gestures her forward. A young woman – barely more than a child – steps from the group and approaches Irina. “I am ready, Mother,” she whispers.

The leader takes the child’s hand and squeezes it gently. “You are our hope, child. Our dream made manifest,” she pauses to gaze with love and gratitude. “Thank you.”

The girl smiles peacefully in response. In a smooth, almost practiced motion, she takes a chalice from the ground near her feet. She glances back at the circle of women once, then drinks from the goblet, her throat working convulsively to swallow all the contents.

A moment later, the fire pops loudly and rises higher. The girl takes a shuddering breath and staggers. Irina grasps her, holding her upright so she won’t fall.

Then the girl straightens. Her eyes, once a pale grey, now glow with yellow flame – twins to the fire in the clearing.

The young woman stands tall and speaks in a rich contralto, “Children. Tonight, we begin.”

About the author:

- Jennifer’s Substack Newsletter Snark Floats is from the mind of Gen Xer absolutely tired of pretending anything makes sense—and I’m here for it. 👏Be sure to check out her series The Devil and Edith Olson.