Lana Lazar's Blog
July 21, 2025
June 24, 2025
I'm alive!
Hi! Sorry for such a long hiatus! I've been super busy working on completing unfinished projects (they seem to be eternal 😵), but finally, my first horror story collection is almost complete! Peculiar tales about doppelgangers, psychopaths, retellings of urban classics, and a stench of gas in a house and the deadly symptoms that hint at something stranger than anyone who has ever had to deal with a gas leak could imagine...
Title: Whispers in the Dark I - soon to be available on Amazon 🎉🍫😍
Updates to follow!
Title: Whispers in the Dark I - soon to be available on Amazon 🎉🍫😍
Updates to follow!
October 31, 2024
FREE HORROR STORY - HALLOWEEN 2024
BOBBIE - PART 1
By Lana Lazar
© 2024
EVENTS: 2021
Tangerine-orange jack-o’-lanterns leered at me from the window, dangling from the frame on thin black wire. Their eerie golden glow cast dancing shadows across the display – one of the freakiest dolls I had ever seen. Its entire frame seemed to be a solid mesh of jagged blue metal and distended connectors that sprung at uneven angles to its body. Chipped paint flaked in smoky wisps around warped rabbit ears, while the gaping jaw revealed rows and rows of sharp, pointed incisors, packed so close together, it was a wonder there was room for all of them in that grinning maw.
But it was the eyes that drew and repelled me all at once – eyes that seemed in a strange way to be human. Balls that were shiny, as if moist with fluid; irises that had once been brown, but over time had dulled to a sinister crimson; blood vessels that should never have belonged to anything so inhuman . . . because they were too alive. I could almost see them blink, but of course, that could only be my imagination.
I drew my scarf tighter around my throat and bent to read the scrawled sign affixed to its clawed foot:
‘MAKE FRIENDS WITH BOBBIE, THE WORLD’S MOST ADVANCED ANIMATRONIC, BROUGHT TO YOU THIS HALLOWEEN BY BERENHO ENTERTAINMENT.’
I swallowed and straightened up, thoroughly spooked, but at the same time, interested despite myself. It wasn’t a doll, after all. It was an animatronic; a thinking, moving robot. I had always been interested in robotics, but had never been especially good at building them. Which was why I loved to collect kits, but couldn’t put them together. Piles and piles of cardboard robot-making kits mouldering away in the dustiest corner of my bedroom. It drove my mom crazy.
But this one was complete. It was the freakiest thing I had ever seen, but it was also the most incredible. Before I knew it, my hand was on the door, and I was crossing the threshold, the bell cackling tunelessly above my head.
If possible, the shop was even more disconcerting at close quarters. Dim light flickered threateningly overhead, alternating between red and blue flashing strobes, so intense that it made my eyes ache; tottering heaps of unmarked cardboard boxes, not unlike the ones festering in my room, all spotted generously with mold spots. The stench of damp was overwhelming enough that I sneezed several times.
As I reached the end of the narrow passage and turned the corner, I saw that the shop had come to an abrupt end – nothing more than a few trinketry items, a large vent big enough for a person just above the skirting, and an unoccupied counter. Dust lay heavy over everything, and I could make out a strange, overcloying, metallic stench that I couldn’t quite place.
An uneasy feeling came upon me at that moment, that had nothing to do with the deserted counter, and I almost turned around and left. That was when I spotted more animatronics – miniatures, hundreds of them, all lined haphazardly on narrow shelves below the counter, all put together in perfect shape, almost like a lure.
If it was a lure, it worked. I knelt, careful to avoid the gum and wadded up bits of tissue in my way, and picked up the nearest box with a barely concealed shiver of excitement.
The box was small, barely taller than fifteen centimetres. It was plain, unmarked except for the name ‘CHICKY’ in bright pink block lettering, with a flimsy plastic window which was so dusty, I couldn’t see the toy inside. I twisted the box upside down, curious. There was nothing else, not even a company logo. The only other thing I could make out was the word ‘BERENHO’, in such tiny writing that I had to squint to read it.
I wiped the dust carefully off the plastic and tilted the box so that it caught what little light there was. The robot inside was undoubtedly more attractive than the horror show in the window. It had bright pink hair in two girlish bunches, brilliant white face paint, two generous blotches of pink for blush, and the gaudiest accessories I had ever seen on a doll. Sure, it was pretty, but there was something off about this one, too.
Like the animatronic in the window, its eyes were wrong. They were too bright, too shiny, too weirdly . . . well, alive. There was no other way to describe it, except that it made me want to fling the box down and dash out of the shop without a second thought.
The only thing that stilled me was the price, and the thought that something this opportune might never come my way again. While I was busy deliberating whether to pay or drop the box and run, something moved.
A shadow, shuffling behind the vent . . . screws pinging off, one by one. I froze, my feet stuck to the floor. I couldn’t move even if I had wanted to. A low grunting noise. Then the vent peeled away . . .
. . . and crashed to the floor.
My scream would have done credit to a factory siren. A bushy black head, grey with dust, burst out of the vent and stared at me through unmistakably human eyes which happened to be an astonishing shade of green. The thin lips parted and let out an unmistakably human oath. Then a pair of calloused hands were planted on the floor and the man pushed himself up with a groan, dusting his hair off.
“Would you stop screaming?” he demanded coldly.
I could only gape at him stupidly, the box clutched in my hand. The boy – I saw now that despite his height, he wasn’t much older than I was – shook his head and shoved the vent back into place without bothering to retrieve the screws. Then he stalked behind the counter and began to jab some buttons on the cash register.
“You want that?” he asked shortly, jerking his head at the box I still held.
“Er . . .”
“Seriously, we’re closing in ten minutes,” the boy remarked rudely. “So unless you want to buy something, stop standing there gawping at me like a fish head and scat.”
“Oh, sorry.” I blushed at his tone and nodded a little awkwardly towards the window. “I was just wondering about your animatronics, are they all like that one?”
The boy snorted and leant his elbows on the counter. “What, alive?”
I blushed a deeper shade of crimson and mumbled, “Obviously not. I meant, why are their eyes so weird?”
He shrugged and straightened up, running both hands through his bushy mane. “Just the way they’re made, I guess. They’re supposed to be cutting edge, the latest thing in robotics. Suppose that’s your perfectly normal explanation. Now do you want to buy that thing or not?”
I stared once more at the animatronic and felt another involuntary shiver course through my body. It really was uncanny how human the eyes were, but it couldn’t be real . . . could it?
“Five minutes,” the boy reminded me, tapping an imaginary watch.
I sighed and put the box on the counter. “Fine. Ring me up.”
The boy had been nothing but rude to me so far, so no one was more surprised than me when he started to chat casually to me as though he hadn’t described me as a fish head five minutes ago.
“You live around here?” he asked, as he tried to find the barcode and failed.
“Hereabouts,” I responded vaguely. Would he hurry up?
“So I guess you go to St Faith’s, right?”
“Mm,” noncommittally. Where the hell was that barcode?
“I’m Jay, by the way,” he volunteered after a moment, never mind that I hadn’t asked for it, “Jay Stokes.”
I sighed and didn’t respond. I think he got the hint.
The huffing and swearing took another minute. Eventually, he slit the Sellotape sealing the lid down and found a written code inside the packaging, but no lines. What was it with this thing? It was like they didn’t want an easy sale. Everything about this robot seemed designed specially so that it wouldn’t get sold.
I shuffled my feet and fiddled with the coins in my pocket, feeling more and more awkward by the minute. Every second Jay spent grumpily jabbing numbers into the antique computer was another second I wondered whether I was making the right decision, buying this thing. And if I was starting to think of it as a thing, that couldn’t be a good sign either.
Finally, a crashing sound brought me back to the present with a jolt. At the same time, the piercing trill of a mobile alarm startled us both. Jay set the box down with a huff and dug in his pocket. He turned the alarm off, before eyeing me with an irritated glare, as though this whole thing was my fault.
“Right,” he said shortly. “The computer’s frozen, this stupid till’s jammed again, and it’s closing time.” He slid the box across to me and raised one very dark eyebrow. “Are you sure you want this? I know it’s Halloween in a couple of days and I’m sure it’d make a great hanging piece and all, but it’s so . . . ugly.”
I couldn’t help laughing at that, despite myself. “It is that, but I really wanted one of these animatronics, and this one’s affordable at least.”
Jay sighed and stepped out from behind the counter. “Sure, but it isn’t going through, either.” He tapped his chin for a moment, thinking, then seemed to come to a decision. “You know what, if you’re so dead set on this thing, you can have the one in the window.”
“What?” I exclaimed in surprise as Jay brushed past me and marched into the narrow passageway, the flashing strobe lights sending his shoulders into sharp relief. “Are you sure? Isn’t that supposed to be, you know, for display purposes?”
“You kidding?” he called back. “Dad’s wanted to get rid of that gross thing forever. We didn’t even want it, but the company shoved it in with our order. Best I can guess is they didn’t have the hots for it any more than we do.”
“But . . . it was in the display.”
“Yeah, because it’s the season to be freaky. Dad figured it’d draw more customers.” I blushed. It had drawn me. Jay continued, unaware of my thoughts, “The moment Halloween was over, we were going to junk it. But if you’re into this sort of thing, better you get it than the trash. Somebody might as well get some use out of it.”
“But -”
A muffled oath followed by a loud crash caused me to sprint down the passageway, suddenly afraid that something bad had happened.
I couldn’t explain the feeling, but something had been off ever since I had entered the shop. And the feeling had only gotten worse the longer I stayed. Right now, it felt as if the pent-up atmosphere was reaching breaking point.
I found Jay beating the wall with his foot, his cheeks flushed red with fury. His eyes flashed such an intense green, I had to blink twice before I was convinced he wasn’t a dream. He spun around as I approached and turned his ire onto me, jabbing an angry fist towards the display. His expression was almost apoplectic.
“Will you look at this!” he exploded.
I craned to see around his shoulder and stopped still, stunned. I could only stare in shock at the empty window. No animatronic, no freakily human eyes. Only the sign, ‘MAKE FRIENDS WITH BOBBIE’, smirking at us from the dusty pane.
“W-where did it go?” I stammered stupidly, twisting around as if the bunny would somehow be peeping at us from the pile of boxes.
Jay’s eyes were dark with suppressed anger as he threw the bolt on the door and yanked the blinds down so hard that a fracture tore through the bottom slats. A well-aimed finger sent the shutters rolling down with a deafening clatter.
The shop secured, he shoved past me, almost knocking me over, and stomped back to the counter in a towering temper.
“I’ll tell you where,” he fumed. “Probably on its way to a shed or somebody’s attic. Best I can guess is that some jackass stole it on a dare. They’re probably having a good laugh about it right now while we hack around here like idiots.”
“Don’t be mad,” I tried to reassure him as he stormed behind the counter and landed a heavy fist on the malfunctioning monitor. “It’ll be okay. There’ll be insurance.”
“I’m not mad about the stupid toy,” he snapped, twisting the key to lock the register. “It didn’t cost us a penny, and we wouldn’t have paid it if it had. I’m mad that someone had the nerve to break in here and steal it. Seriously, whatever happened to honesty?”
He sunk his head into his hands and took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking as he struggled to control himself. When he looked at me, it was with a sheepish smile.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go ape-crazy on you like that. It just . . . really bugs me when people think they can do whatever they want and there won’t be any consequences.”
“There are always consequences to actions,” I found myself saying automatically before I could stop myself. “Whether you see it or not.”
Jay stared at me for a moment. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He started to open his mouth –
Something thudded behind the vent.
Our heads whipped round at the same time.
Silence. Then a scrape, like something damaged dragging along a hard, stone floor. Scrape, scratch, scrape, scra-atch. The sound gradually faded away into the distance.
Silence again.
My breath caught. My heart started thumping so hard in my chest I was sure Jay could hear it. The silence stretched so long that I could make out every little noise in the shop – the slow tip-tap of a leak somewhere, the rattling of the wind against the shutters, the husky breaths I’d begun to notice Jay released when he was stressed, angry or nervous. But nowhere could I hear the low scrape of whatever had passed behind the vent.
I think we both realised that the screws hadn’t been replaced at the same time.
By Lana Lazar
© 2024
EVENTS: 2021
Tangerine-orange jack-o’-lanterns leered at me from the window, dangling from the frame on thin black wire. Their eerie golden glow cast dancing shadows across the display – one of the freakiest dolls I had ever seen. Its entire frame seemed to be a solid mesh of jagged blue metal and distended connectors that sprung at uneven angles to its body. Chipped paint flaked in smoky wisps around warped rabbit ears, while the gaping jaw revealed rows and rows of sharp, pointed incisors, packed so close together, it was a wonder there was room for all of them in that grinning maw.
But it was the eyes that drew and repelled me all at once – eyes that seemed in a strange way to be human. Balls that were shiny, as if moist with fluid; irises that had once been brown, but over time had dulled to a sinister crimson; blood vessels that should never have belonged to anything so inhuman . . . because they were too alive. I could almost see them blink, but of course, that could only be my imagination.
I drew my scarf tighter around my throat and bent to read the scrawled sign affixed to its clawed foot:
‘MAKE FRIENDS WITH BOBBIE, THE WORLD’S MOST ADVANCED ANIMATRONIC, BROUGHT TO YOU THIS HALLOWEEN BY BERENHO ENTERTAINMENT.’
I swallowed and straightened up, thoroughly spooked, but at the same time, interested despite myself. It wasn’t a doll, after all. It was an animatronic; a thinking, moving robot. I had always been interested in robotics, but had never been especially good at building them. Which was why I loved to collect kits, but couldn’t put them together. Piles and piles of cardboard robot-making kits mouldering away in the dustiest corner of my bedroom. It drove my mom crazy.
But this one was complete. It was the freakiest thing I had ever seen, but it was also the most incredible. Before I knew it, my hand was on the door, and I was crossing the threshold, the bell cackling tunelessly above my head.
If possible, the shop was even more disconcerting at close quarters. Dim light flickered threateningly overhead, alternating between red and blue flashing strobes, so intense that it made my eyes ache; tottering heaps of unmarked cardboard boxes, not unlike the ones festering in my room, all spotted generously with mold spots. The stench of damp was overwhelming enough that I sneezed several times.
As I reached the end of the narrow passage and turned the corner, I saw that the shop had come to an abrupt end – nothing more than a few trinketry items, a large vent big enough for a person just above the skirting, and an unoccupied counter. Dust lay heavy over everything, and I could make out a strange, overcloying, metallic stench that I couldn’t quite place.
An uneasy feeling came upon me at that moment, that had nothing to do with the deserted counter, and I almost turned around and left. That was when I spotted more animatronics – miniatures, hundreds of them, all lined haphazardly on narrow shelves below the counter, all put together in perfect shape, almost like a lure.
If it was a lure, it worked. I knelt, careful to avoid the gum and wadded up bits of tissue in my way, and picked up the nearest box with a barely concealed shiver of excitement.
The box was small, barely taller than fifteen centimetres. It was plain, unmarked except for the name ‘CHICKY’ in bright pink block lettering, with a flimsy plastic window which was so dusty, I couldn’t see the toy inside. I twisted the box upside down, curious. There was nothing else, not even a company logo. The only other thing I could make out was the word ‘BERENHO’, in such tiny writing that I had to squint to read it.
I wiped the dust carefully off the plastic and tilted the box so that it caught what little light there was. The robot inside was undoubtedly more attractive than the horror show in the window. It had bright pink hair in two girlish bunches, brilliant white face paint, two generous blotches of pink for blush, and the gaudiest accessories I had ever seen on a doll. Sure, it was pretty, but there was something off about this one, too.
Like the animatronic in the window, its eyes were wrong. They were too bright, too shiny, too weirdly . . . well, alive. There was no other way to describe it, except that it made me want to fling the box down and dash out of the shop without a second thought.
The only thing that stilled me was the price, and the thought that something this opportune might never come my way again. While I was busy deliberating whether to pay or drop the box and run, something moved.
A shadow, shuffling behind the vent . . . screws pinging off, one by one. I froze, my feet stuck to the floor. I couldn’t move even if I had wanted to. A low grunting noise. Then the vent peeled away . . .
. . . and crashed to the floor.
My scream would have done credit to a factory siren. A bushy black head, grey with dust, burst out of the vent and stared at me through unmistakably human eyes which happened to be an astonishing shade of green. The thin lips parted and let out an unmistakably human oath. Then a pair of calloused hands were planted on the floor and the man pushed himself up with a groan, dusting his hair off.
“Would you stop screaming?” he demanded coldly.
I could only gape at him stupidly, the box clutched in my hand. The boy – I saw now that despite his height, he wasn’t much older than I was – shook his head and shoved the vent back into place without bothering to retrieve the screws. Then he stalked behind the counter and began to jab some buttons on the cash register.
“You want that?” he asked shortly, jerking his head at the box I still held.
“Er . . .”
“Seriously, we’re closing in ten minutes,” the boy remarked rudely. “So unless you want to buy something, stop standing there gawping at me like a fish head and scat.”
“Oh, sorry.” I blushed at his tone and nodded a little awkwardly towards the window. “I was just wondering about your animatronics, are they all like that one?”
The boy snorted and leant his elbows on the counter. “What, alive?”
I blushed a deeper shade of crimson and mumbled, “Obviously not. I meant, why are their eyes so weird?”
He shrugged and straightened up, running both hands through his bushy mane. “Just the way they’re made, I guess. They’re supposed to be cutting edge, the latest thing in robotics. Suppose that’s your perfectly normal explanation. Now do you want to buy that thing or not?”
I stared once more at the animatronic and felt another involuntary shiver course through my body. It really was uncanny how human the eyes were, but it couldn’t be real . . . could it?
“Five minutes,” the boy reminded me, tapping an imaginary watch.
I sighed and put the box on the counter. “Fine. Ring me up.”
The boy had been nothing but rude to me so far, so no one was more surprised than me when he started to chat casually to me as though he hadn’t described me as a fish head five minutes ago.
“You live around here?” he asked, as he tried to find the barcode and failed.
“Hereabouts,” I responded vaguely. Would he hurry up?
“So I guess you go to St Faith’s, right?”
“Mm,” noncommittally. Where the hell was that barcode?
“I’m Jay, by the way,” he volunteered after a moment, never mind that I hadn’t asked for it, “Jay Stokes.”
I sighed and didn’t respond. I think he got the hint.
The huffing and swearing took another minute. Eventually, he slit the Sellotape sealing the lid down and found a written code inside the packaging, but no lines. What was it with this thing? It was like they didn’t want an easy sale. Everything about this robot seemed designed specially so that it wouldn’t get sold.
I shuffled my feet and fiddled with the coins in my pocket, feeling more and more awkward by the minute. Every second Jay spent grumpily jabbing numbers into the antique computer was another second I wondered whether I was making the right decision, buying this thing. And if I was starting to think of it as a thing, that couldn’t be a good sign either.
Finally, a crashing sound brought me back to the present with a jolt. At the same time, the piercing trill of a mobile alarm startled us both. Jay set the box down with a huff and dug in his pocket. He turned the alarm off, before eyeing me with an irritated glare, as though this whole thing was my fault.
“Right,” he said shortly. “The computer’s frozen, this stupid till’s jammed again, and it’s closing time.” He slid the box across to me and raised one very dark eyebrow. “Are you sure you want this? I know it’s Halloween in a couple of days and I’m sure it’d make a great hanging piece and all, but it’s so . . . ugly.”
I couldn’t help laughing at that, despite myself. “It is that, but I really wanted one of these animatronics, and this one’s affordable at least.”
Jay sighed and stepped out from behind the counter. “Sure, but it isn’t going through, either.” He tapped his chin for a moment, thinking, then seemed to come to a decision. “You know what, if you’re so dead set on this thing, you can have the one in the window.”
“What?” I exclaimed in surprise as Jay brushed past me and marched into the narrow passageway, the flashing strobe lights sending his shoulders into sharp relief. “Are you sure? Isn’t that supposed to be, you know, for display purposes?”
“You kidding?” he called back. “Dad’s wanted to get rid of that gross thing forever. We didn’t even want it, but the company shoved it in with our order. Best I can guess is they didn’t have the hots for it any more than we do.”
“But . . . it was in the display.”
“Yeah, because it’s the season to be freaky. Dad figured it’d draw more customers.” I blushed. It had drawn me. Jay continued, unaware of my thoughts, “The moment Halloween was over, we were going to junk it. But if you’re into this sort of thing, better you get it than the trash. Somebody might as well get some use out of it.”
“But -”
A muffled oath followed by a loud crash caused me to sprint down the passageway, suddenly afraid that something bad had happened.
I couldn’t explain the feeling, but something had been off ever since I had entered the shop. And the feeling had only gotten worse the longer I stayed. Right now, it felt as if the pent-up atmosphere was reaching breaking point.
I found Jay beating the wall with his foot, his cheeks flushed red with fury. His eyes flashed such an intense green, I had to blink twice before I was convinced he wasn’t a dream. He spun around as I approached and turned his ire onto me, jabbing an angry fist towards the display. His expression was almost apoplectic.
“Will you look at this!” he exploded.
I craned to see around his shoulder and stopped still, stunned. I could only stare in shock at the empty window. No animatronic, no freakily human eyes. Only the sign, ‘MAKE FRIENDS WITH BOBBIE’, smirking at us from the dusty pane.
“W-where did it go?” I stammered stupidly, twisting around as if the bunny would somehow be peeping at us from the pile of boxes.
Jay’s eyes were dark with suppressed anger as he threw the bolt on the door and yanked the blinds down so hard that a fracture tore through the bottom slats. A well-aimed finger sent the shutters rolling down with a deafening clatter.
The shop secured, he shoved past me, almost knocking me over, and stomped back to the counter in a towering temper.
“I’ll tell you where,” he fumed. “Probably on its way to a shed or somebody’s attic. Best I can guess is that some jackass stole it on a dare. They’re probably having a good laugh about it right now while we hack around here like idiots.”
“Don’t be mad,” I tried to reassure him as he stormed behind the counter and landed a heavy fist on the malfunctioning monitor. “It’ll be okay. There’ll be insurance.”
“I’m not mad about the stupid toy,” he snapped, twisting the key to lock the register. “It didn’t cost us a penny, and we wouldn’t have paid it if it had. I’m mad that someone had the nerve to break in here and steal it. Seriously, whatever happened to honesty?”
He sunk his head into his hands and took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking as he struggled to control himself. When he looked at me, it was with a sheepish smile.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go ape-crazy on you like that. It just . . . really bugs me when people think they can do whatever they want and there won’t be any consequences.”
“There are always consequences to actions,” I found myself saying automatically before I could stop myself. “Whether you see it or not.”
Jay stared at me for a moment. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He started to open his mouth –
Something thudded behind the vent.
Our heads whipped round at the same time.
Silence. Then a scrape, like something damaged dragging along a hard, stone floor. Scrape, scratch, scrape, scra-atch. The sound gradually faded away into the distance.
Silence again.
My breath caught. My heart started thumping so hard in my chest I was sure Jay could hear it. The silence stretched so long that I could make out every little noise in the shop – the slow tip-tap of a leak somewhere, the rattling of the wind against the shutters, the husky breaths I’d begun to notice Jay released when he was stressed, angry or nervous. But nowhere could I hear the low scrape of whatever had passed behind the vent.
I think we both realised that the screws hadn’t been replaced at the same time.
July 1, 2024
SECRET PROJECT!
The Watchers on hold due to exciting new project - look out!
May 14, 2024
FREE - The Watchers - PROLOGUE OUT NOW ON WATTPAD
The Watchers - Prologue - The Arrival #wattpad https://www.wattpad.com/1444491974-th...
Follow the link, share the tale, love the story!
Every Sunday :)
Follow the link, share the tale, love the story!
Every Sunday :)
May 8, 2024
SCI-FI! FREE on Wattpad
Going live on Wattpad every Sunday - a FREE new chapter of an exciting new Sci-fi project: The Watchers
Check it out at https://t.co/k8CssbmEdL
Look out for it while you can - once the story is complete, I will take most of it down and publish it! Meanwhile, enjoy!
Love,
LL
Check it out at https://t.co/k8CssbmEdL
Look out for it while you can - once the story is complete, I will take most of it down and publish it! Meanwhile, enjoy!
Love,
LL
April 24, 2024
NEW RELEASE: SWEETOWN
Dear readers,
I am delighted to announce that Sweetown will be LIVE on Amazon by the 29th April! With TWO bonus horror stories included - I hope you like it!
Love,
LL
I am delighted to announce that Sweetown will be LIVE on Amazon by the 29th April! With TWO bonus horror stories included - I hope you like it!
Love,
LL
April 21, 2024
Motivation - ugh!
Dear readers,
Battling to finish the 3 upcoming books in time for the pre-order publish date, but inspiration (and motivation, for that matter) is taking its sweet time in coming! That stinks because I really want to give you your books! Fortunately, Amazon deadlines are here to give me a kick up the butt so . . . you'll get your books, never fear!
All my love,
LL
Battling to finish the 3 upcoming books in time for the pre-order publish date, but inspiration (and motivation, for that matter) is taking its sweet time in coming! That stinks because I really want to give you your books! Fortunately, Amazon deadlines are here to give me a kick up the butt so . . . you'll get your books, never fear!
All my love,
LL
March 16, 2024
FREE short story - The Midnight Garden
By Lana Lazar
© 2024
Danny's footsteps echoed hollowly around the deserted gallery. The flat taps of his shoes boomeranged eerily off the surrounding walls. His flashlight spun mechanically on a length of worn string that had been twisted around his finger. The walls soared to dizzying heights above and around him, chipped wood and hollowed-out breaks in the timber fashioned into an elaborate carving.
A timber gallery.
That was what they called it. A fancy name for a piece of carved wood. Or, as he liked to think of it, kindling waiting to happen. Danny had glanced briefly at it as he circled the expanse of mottled wood, blackened with age on his rounds. But he hadn't been much impressed. He could make something ten times as good with his eyes closed, of that he was smugly certain.
Danny stopped now and stood directly in front of the wall, staring critically at the timber gallery, hands buried in his coat pockets. Despite his reservations, he had never actually taken the time out to truly study the intricate, hewn art and it took him by surprise.
The sneer froze on his lips.
It was alive. Alive with the wonder of nature and night. The scene exuded an otherworldly allure. Towering on opposite ends of the carving rose a pair of trees, as gnarled and ancient as the wood they had been scored from, their twisting, contorting branches extending towards the other and tangling where they met in a gnarled embrace. Flowers - crimson red roses, budding orchids kissed with a hint of lilac, the merest whisper of green blossoming in a spark of colour - encircled the garden in an extraordinary, marauding blaze of light. A soft breeze seemed to float through the ethereal garden, wafting up below tender leaves and delicate petals, an eternal flicker through an otherwise tranquil oasis.
But was it a ruse? An uncanny subterfuge contrived by the nameless artist? How perfect was this paradise, this Elysium? An imperishable heaven on earth, a utopia of contentment as long as he remained fascinated by it. Yet, a pinprick of unease swirled unbidden around his stomach. It itched at his core and niggled at the back of his throat. Paradise, that's what this was supposed to depict. Then why did he feel so vulnerable? So . . . exposed?
A imperceptible flicker blurred at the corners of Danny's vision. He swivelled around immediately, his sharp eyes darting over the abandoned galley. Rows of paintings, carvings and oddments on display stretched out dizzyingly in all directions, but nowhere could he place the source of his unease. His gaze slid reluctantly back to the carving and a nauseated gasp choked in his throat.
Valhalla had turned into damnation on Earth.
Ruse. Deception. Trickery. The words gyrated soundlessly on his tongue as he goggled at Abaddon, mouth agape, his jaws working in silent horror. The trees no longer seemed benign, their warped branches grabbing at each other, scraping, gouging, blackened lacerations remaining where huge chunks had been viciously scored out of the blistering wood. Screaming, wailing faces contorted in anguish - licking flames - searing heat - charred flesh - a never-ending dirge of pain and torment howling in a cacophony of screeching lament.
Danny gasped, tried to look away, speechless with horror, but his feet remained stubbornly rooted to the spot, refusing to move. Soundless wails burned in his throat. Bitter tears pricked at his eyes. It was not just the trees that had mutated. Even the flowers seemed to be mocking him.
The crimson petals of the roses darkened with the red of blood. It pooled up from the centre and cascaded over the edges. It seeped into the woodwork below where it saturated the grass, choking the emerald-sage into a virulent crimson. The orchids mutilated with charcoal, blackened at the edges, the pleasant green of the grass fading into insignificance in the violence of the surroundings. Even the gentle breeze had morphed into something far more dreadful. It whipped, it shrieked, it tore through the nightmarish garden in a frenzy of destruction, hellbent. Petals shredded in its wake, the hellish blooms lamenting in a sea of blood, while barbed vines deformed and distorted, ensnaring the branches where they lay, shooting up and around the carving, freezing it in place like a demented snapshot.
Stare into the abyss, they say, and the abyss will stare back into you. Danny's gaze had drained sightlessly into its depths until the abyss claimed him. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. All he could do was gaze voicelessly at the fiendish abomination unfolding in front of him. His jaw was slack, spit drooling down the side of his mouth. Only one thing shifted in the motionless gallery. His eyes, sliding sluggishly towards the plague, set into a deep recess where the shadows embosomed it in their dark embrace.
It was called the Midnight Garden.
© 2024
Danny's footsteps echoed hollowly around the deserted gallery. The flat taps of his shoes boomeranged eerily off the surrounding walls. His flashlight spun mechanically on a length of worn string that had been twisted around his finger. The walls soared to dizzying heights above and around him, chipped wood and hollowed-out breaks in the timber fashioned into an elaborate carving.
A timber gallery.
That was what they called it. A fancy name for a piece of carved wood. Or, as he liked to think of it, kindling waiting to happen. Danny had glanced briefly at it as he circled the expanse of mottled wood, blackened with age on his rounds. But he hadn't been much impressed. He could make something ten times as good with his eyes closed, of that he was smugly certain.
Danny stopped now and stood directly in front of the wall, staring critically at the timber gallery, hands buried in his coat pockets. Despite his reservations, he had never actually taken the time out to truly study the intricate, hewn art and it took him by surprise.
The sneer froze on his lips.
It was alive. Alive with the wonder of nature and night. The scene exuded an otherworldly allure. Towering on opposite ends of the carving rose a pair of trees, as gnarled and ancient as the wood they had been scored from, their twisting, contorting branches extending towards the other and tangling where they met in a gnarled embrace. Flowers - crimson red roses, budding orchids kissed with a hint of lilac, the merest whisper of green blossoming in a spark of colour - encircled the garden in an extraordinary, marauding blaze of light. A soft breeze seemed to float through the ethereal garden, wafting up below tender leaves and delicate petals, an eternal flicker through an otherwise tranquil oasis.
But was it a ruse? An uncanny subterfuge contrived by the nameless artist? How perfect was this paradise, this Elysium? An imperishable heaven on earth, a utopia of contentment as long as he remained fascinated by it. Yet, a pinprick of unease swirled unbidden around his stomach. It itched at his core and niggled at the back of his throat. Paradise, that's what this was supposed to depict. Then why did he feel so vulnerable? So . . . exposed?
A imperceptible flicker blurred at the corners of Danny's vision. He swivelled around immediately, his sharp eyes darting over the abandoned galley. Rows of paintings, carvings and oddments on display stretched out dizzyingly in all directions, but nowhere could he place the source of his unease. His gaze slid reluctantly back to the carving and a nauseated gasp choked in his throat.
Valhalla had turned into damnation on Earth.
Ruse. Deception. Trickery. The words gyrated soundlessly on his tongue as he goggled at Abaddon, mouth agape, his jaws working in silent horror. The trees no longer seemed benign, their warped branches grabbing at each other, scraping, gouging, blackened lacerations remaining where huge chunks had been viciously scored out of the blistering wood. Screaming, wailing faces contorted in anguish - licking flames - searing heat - charred flesh - a never-ending dirge of pain and torment howling in a cacophony of screeching lament.
Danny gasped, tried to look away, speechless with horror, but his feet remained stubbornly rooted to the spot, refusing to move. Soundless wails burned in his throat. Bitter tears pricked at his eyes. It was not just the trees that had mutated. Even the flowers seemed to be mocking him.
The crimson petals of the roses darkened with the red of blood. It pooled up from the centre and cascaded over the edges. It seeped into the woodwork below where it saturated the grass, choking the emerald-sage into a virulent crimson. The orchids mutilated with charcoal, blackened at the edges, the pleasant green of the grass fading into insignificance in the violence of the surroundings. Even the gentle breeze had morphed into something far more dreadful. It whipped, it shrieked, it tore through the nightmarish garden in a frenzy of destruction, hellbent. Petals shredded in its wake, the hellish blooms lamenting in a sea of blood, while barbed vines deformed and distorted, ensnaring the branches where they lay, shooting up and around the carving, freezing it in place like a demented snapshot.
Stare into the abyss, they say, and the abyss will stare back into you. Danny's gaze had drained sightlessly into its depths until the abyss claimed him. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. All he could do was gaze voicelessly at the fiendish abomination unfolding in front of him. His jaw was slack, spit drooling down the side of his mouth. Only one thing shifted in the motionless gallery. His eyes, sliding sluggishly towards the plague, set into a deep recess where the shadows embosomed it in their dark embrace.
It was called the Midnight Garden.
