Emily Dill

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Fear Is A Factor

May 22, 2019 by Emily Dill Leave a Comment


As the sun sets on Day 17, I realize that I am going to die.

The island has provided me with the sustenance to last for over two weeks, with fruit-bearing trees and crops that have probably been here for decades.

But this island, or something on it, has also taken five of my friends from me, the last one disappearing after an excruciating scream two nights ago.

We had been too drunk, going too fast, in a boat that we never should have been in. We’d thought it lucky that we found this island so close to the spot of our wreck, but now it didn’t feel like luck. It felt like a dark and final choice had been made for us.

We fell into a trap.

Five men in two weeks. Each screamed at some point in the night, a little distance from the group, their bodies not seen again. We decided as a group that the first one had fallen in the water and drowned. Maybe he’d been eaten by a shark. The second one we were less sure about but decided to reach the same vague conclusion. We found blood on the sand after the third one, and we knew then that there was something on this island besides us.

Now, alone and exhausted and terrified, I have watched the sun set for the last time. The laughter I began hearing about an hour ago has confirmed for me that I’m the last piece of unfinished business. I’ve been watching the water but now I turn back to the tree line, deciding to face my death like a man, the way my father would have wanted.

I didn’t live with much honor, but I can at least die with some.

As I turn to the trees, I see a particular spot seem to shake. More laughter and then sighing. I close my eyes.

“I used to hunt men here regularly,” it whispers, now behind me. “But not for many, many years.”

“You won’t be hunting me,” I reply, my voice steady but my hands shaking.

“I already am,” it taunts, the voice coming from my right.

“To hunt, you must have prey, either hiding or running. I’m doing neither. Where’s the fun in that for you?”

The thing is silent, and I no longer hear rustling so it must have stopped moving. If it has a mind, it is thinking.

If it has a plan, it is adjusting.

“My friends ran, didn’t they?” I’m stalling, but I have no other tactics in my pocket. “How fun for you, but unfortunate for them. I hope you at least killed them fast, but I’m sure you didn’t. Monsters don’t show mercy, right? Isn’t that what makes you monsters?”

A slight rustle, to my left and a little closer than before.

“But monsters also like to chase. They catch and they taunt and they toy around, but they don’t take things given to them. So what are you going to do now?”

The movement behind me is closer now, maybe ten feet away.

“Because I’m giving you the thing you want to fight me for. Go ahead and kill me. Unless meat freely given to you doesn’t taste as sweet?”

I hear a moan, less than five feet away. I can smell the thing now, a horrible mixture of iron and sulfur and seaweed and feces. I breathe through my mouth to keep from gagging.

“You like the taste of adrenaline, don’t you?” Although I’m still improvising and distracting, I feel like I’m onto something. My gut tells me to keep going. If I panic, I’m dead like my friends.

“Does it make the flesh taste sweeter? Or is it the fear that does that? I wouldn’t know. I don’t, you know, eat people.”

A long exhalation from the monster, right on my neck. I’m feeling bold and if I don’t face it now, I never will. I slowly turn and find myself staring into the sunken chest of something hideous.

It’s like a shipwreck of a human.

At least, I think it used to be human. But it’s covered in moss and algae and mold and it’s completely naked. Its chest and ribs are sunken and the only thing bright is a long shock of orange hair around what must be the face. There are no lips, just moldy teeth and a dislocated jaw.

It bends down so that its face is even with mine and I want to scream but I only stop myself because it means certain death. Fear from me will mean my end.

“I’ll wait,” it breathes into my face, inches away.

“For what?” I whisper.

“You to run. Scared. You’ll taste better then.”

I watch myself shrug in the reflection of the thing’s enormous fish-like eyes, knowing nonchalance will keep me alive. Maybe someone is out there looking for me. Maybe. My only option is staying alive long enough to find out.

“Suit yourself,” I say, facing the water once more. I sit down and cross my legs. “I’ll just be here watching for rescue.”

“And I’ll be watching you,” it smiles.

It lies down in front of me, placing itself between me and the water, lying on its side like a cat. It’s more hideous than anything I could ever dream of and I focus on the water and breathe in, then out. In, then out.

And I wonder how we look to the birds flying above us, a filthy boat-accident survivor with a false veneer of calm, and a sea monster lying mere feet away, watching for the slightest sign of fear.

Maybe this is how we’ll look to a rescue boat. Maybe as they get closer they’ll be confused by the two forms on shore, one human and haggard, one something from a nightmare. Calmly reposing on the shore. Maybe I’ll lazily wave as they pull up.

Or maybe they’ll find something else entirely.

Who knows.

Filed Under: Short Stories Tagged With: short story, writing

The Easter Bunny Is Here.

May 12, 2019 by Emily Dill 3 Comments

I’ll never forget the Easter of 1989.

I was 7, a little red-cheeked girl overly confident of my cuteness in an eggshell-blue church dress, frills and bows included.

The family Easter egg hunt was being held on an older relative’s farm. Ten dollars and a bag of candy was being offered as the prize to the winner, and my competitive spirit is never stronger than when money is at stake.

After listening to a long dissertation on safety from our parents, all the children were released to the hunt. We were told to stay within eyesight of the adults and to head back toward the porch when we noticed it getting dark.

I could immediately see that most of my cousins were as serious about winning as I was: bows were pulled off, dress pants were ruined, and more than a few punches landed. I quickly decided to leave the ruckus behind and head to the outer edge of the farm, because most of the younger kids would be too nervous to head for the property line.

“Not too far,” I heard my mother yell from the porch, and I gave her a thumbs-up to show her that I’d heard.

But listening and obeying have never been friends of mine, and within 30 minutes I was out of adult eyesight.

I had only found 16 eggs at that point and had determined beforehand that I would need to find at least 25 to win. I decided to push a little further. My dress shoes were dirty, my curls were sweaty, and I was getting so thirsty and tired that I figured that I only had a good 20 minutes left in me.

I stopped moving to plan my last searching spot, and just as I was about to turn around and backtrack for any eggs that I’d missed, I saw something sparkle in the corner of my vision. I gasped.

It was the biggest and most beautiful golden egg I had ever seen. My grandparents hadn’t mentioned hiding one special egg, but that’s obviously what this was.

I made my way to my prize, already mentally tasting my candy and spending my prize money. I faintly heard my mom calling my name, but I didn’t respond. I’d see her in a minute, and surprise her with this golden egg that would surely win me first place.

As I bent forward to grab the egg, I heard my dad’s voice in the distance as well. They sounded worried, and I’d call back just as soon as I –

The ground fell out from under me, sending me and my basket of eggs – including the beautiful one – plummeting underground.

My vision went black temporarily and I got the wind knocked out of me. Looking back now, I’d estimate that the fall was around 6 feet, but I was so stunned that I didn’t even start to cry.

As I stood up, I blinked rapidly and tried to see what was around me. The light from above broke the darkness a little, but it was still hard to see.

I had landed in some sort of den. Snake and chicken eggs covered the ground, some still whole but most broken. The cracked shells left scattered around my feet were covered in yolk and dirt and a reddish-brown mixture that I was scared was blood.

Now that I had my breath back, I started to yell. I yelled for my mom, my dad, my grandparents, and the names of any cousins I thought would be hunting for eggs anywhere in the area.

As I sucked in a giant breath to scream even louder, I heard a noise from the darkness ahead of me. I couldn’t tell if it was a gasp or a hiss or a cough, but it sounded like it came from something that was alive.

I let my breath out quietly, choosing not to scream, and wondering if I’d made a mistake alerting whatever was in the dark to my position.

Tears filled my eyes, and I wiped them away with dirt-caked hands. I glanced around the ground for anything I could use as a weapon, but I only saw mud and shells until I glanced ahead of me, in the direction of the noise I’d heard, and spotted my golden egg again.

It was just as hypnotizing underground, if not more so, because now it seemed to sit in spotlight in the darkness. It almost glowed and it definitely sparkled and I still wanted it more than anything I’d ever seen.

I shuffled as quietly as I could to the egg and grabbed it quickly. It felt warm in my hand, and I hugged it to my face, liking the comfort of something beautiful against my face in this cold and ugly place. As I held it there, I noticed that it almost seemed to hum, as if something were alive inside. I pulled it away and looked at it suspiciously, wondering what could be inside an egg that had obviously been dyed and decorated.

But I saw a glint in my peripheral vision: another golden egg ahead, this one slightly bigger and even brighter.

Throwing caution behind me, I ran to the next egg and grabbed it as well. Now I had two golden eggs, and my cousins wouldn’t have any, and –

There was another egg down the path, even bigger than the last.

This continued until I held five beautiful warm eggs in my arms. I had almost forgotten to be scared, because they all vibrated and seemed to be warming me up completely.

When I spotted the sixth egg up ahead, I didn’t hesitate, although I did wonder how many more of these eggs I’d be able to carry.

But when I got to the sixth egg it disappeared. One second it was ahead in my path, the next second it was gone. I looked around, totally confused, and saw it further along than it had been a moment before.

But when I reached it, it disappeared again, and once more appeared further along the path.

As I reached it this time, I began to feel frustrated. I felt like I was being teased, or being led…

A trap.

It felt like I was being led into a trap.

And just as the thought hit me, just as I decided that the way I’d come was surely still better than the way I was going, something stepped out of the darkness.

I screamed.

I can’t find the words to accurately describe the creature, because I had never seen anything even remotely similar to it as a child and I still haven’t as an adult. I noticed that this thing was much taller than my dad, and he was over six feet tall. The creature was almost completely hairless, except for a few mangy tufts scattered at different spots on its disgusting body. Most of the hair was centered at the bottom of its back, I suppose in a gruesome facsimile of a tail. It walked in a permanent squat, bony knees nearly touching each other, and its feet were enormous.

Something grew from each side of its head, but one would be hard-pressed to call them ears. They hung down to pointy shoulders and laid there, long sinewy nauseating lobes.

The face was despicable and made me sick to look at. Most of the bottom of its head was covered in two enormous buck teeth, and its nose was just a blob of skin, more similar to a tumor than a human nose. I couldn’t see eyeballs, just empty sockets. And each cheek had 3 or 4 whiskers sprouting sideways, each over a foot long.

Its hands were holding something I couldn’t see well in the dark at first. But as my eyes focused I realized that it was a basket that looked like a rib cage.

The basket was made of bones, and it was full of eggs.

I dropped all my eggs at this point and began screaming so hard that I started to hyperventilate. As I screamed, as I stood there terrified and feeling that the world was a nightmare and that nothing would ever be all right again, I saw each of the golden eggs on the ground crack open.

And tiny infant versions of the monster began to crawl from each egg.

It was at this point that I passed out. I remember falling to the ground, landing on top of broken golden shells, and I remember hearing crunching as the giant thing, this horrible Easter Bunny from hell, began to hop toward me.

And then everything went black.

\\\

Almost three decades have passed since that Easter.

I never returned to that farm. Adults didn’t believe the terrified and hysterical girl that sobbed for days and tried to convince them that there was a monster that lived underground. They told me repeatedly that they found me asleep lying in a hole in the ground. I had been filthy, I had some cuts and bruises, and my clothes had been ruined, but otherwise I was all right.

My nightmares lasted for months and my parents tried to be patient when I woke up several times every night crying about the horrors below the family farm. But eventually they stopped coddling me and just started telling me I was wrong. I finally started to believe that maybe they were right: I had fallen into an abandoned well or mine or sinkhole and I had hit my head and dreamed everything. As I grew older, the incident slowly began to fade from my mind and become something that I looked back upon as a hallucination or nightmare. As an adult, I barely gave the incident another thought.

Until yesterday.

I stepped outside close to midnight to let our dog out. He stepped off the porch and immediately growled and came running back to the door and hurried inside.

I squinted out the door to figure out what had scared him, and what I saw turned my stomach over.

In the middle of our front porch was a pile of broken egg shells.

There must have been hundreds, all different sizes, and all covered in mud and plasma and blood.

The stack of shells reached my knees and smelled horrible.

Sitting at the top of the pile was one egg, big enough to be an ostrich egg.

It was sparkling, glittering, beautiful gold.

And it was humming.

Filed Under: Short Stories Tagged With: easter, easter bunny, short story, writing

Weather.

April 4, 2018 by Emily Dill Leave a Comment

I feel like the rain is sad today
That maybe it misses you too
And puddles and flooding and rain boots
Are hopeless love letters to you

I think that the sun is angry today
That you go weeks without saying a word
And it’s trying so hard to burn your face
Because at least then it’ll know that it’s heard

I’m sure that the clouds are lonely today
And in that, they’re not alone
I’m gloomy as well, blue, depressed,
Waiting for you to throw me a bone

I’m tired of you controlling the weather, my mind
It’s just too much power for one man
So we all got together, decided we’re better
And will move on the best that we can

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: poem, poetry, writing

“Relationship Add Vice” released!

January 5, 2018 by Emily Dill Leave a Comment

The latest anthology featuring one of my short stories has gone live on Amazon! Relationship Add Vice, which includes my story “Intuition” in their 21-story list, can be bought off of Amazon now in Kindle or paperback format. My story is about a police officer who pulls a woman over for speeding, but is quickly won over by her energy and personality and begins to date her. However, a serial killer is loose in their town, and his police intuition keeps telling him that she’s not safe. If she won’t take his advice to protect herself, she could end up as the next victim.

The editors mostly left my story in its original format. They added an opening line I didn’t write and a closing line I didn’t write, but everything in between is mine and I’m pretty happy with it. Please let me know what you think if you get a chance to read it!

I also have a story coming out in my local library’s new writing journal, Verbatim. I’m not sure if this journal will be available for purchase online or only in person, but I’ll let you know when I know. 🙂 The story is called “Shadow”; it’s a flash fiction piece and is a throwback to old villages being haunted by older spirits. I’ve also written another longer story along those lines that I’ll be shopping around in the coming months and hope to have in a collection soon!

Filed Under: Short Stories Tagged With: anthology, intuition, relationship add vice, short story, writing

Me.

March 14, 2017 by Emily Dill 3 Comments


It’s not time to be me yet
But when it is, you’ll know
I’ll play myself with such gusto
I’ll be me with quite a show

But the timing isn’t quite right
It’s not yet my cue
I don’t know my lines, I don’t feel the part
How do you know when you’re you?

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: poem, poetry, writing

Cinnamon.

January 15, 2017 by Emily Dill Leave a Comment

snowfootprints


My hands smelled like cinnamon
It was almost Christmastime
You had made me hot chocolate
And the taste was so sublime

You were extra generous
With your smiles that Saturday
You’d said that we were “just hanging out”
And I had said that’d be okay

But as I watched your eyes crinkle
And snow fell from your coat to my floor
As you laughed in that crooked way
I knew that I’d always want more

I had never felt so brave
So confident in both our affection
I took your hand and said some things
And you were confused at this new direction

You eyes clouded over – no more crinkle
You quickly took a step back
Words blew out of your mouth like leaves
As if I’d launched an attack

I stood there as my cocoa grew cool
And my heart did the very same thing
You stumbled and sputtered and mumbled and muttered
Christmas wouldn’t bring what I’d hoped it would bring

My hands smelled like cinnamon
On that December day five years ago
I haven’t seen you since but I’ll always remember
The coldest boy I ever could know

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: poetry, writing

Him.

October 11, 2016 by Emily Dill Leave a Comment

Tree

And you saw me in my darkness, Lord
When I was full of shame
You encouraged me to come to you
To whisper just your name
To take off my vest of burden
And in the lake of freedom, swim
So when I’m asked what cured me
I’ll smile and just breathe, “Him”

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: poem, poetry, writing

Writing Update: Short Story Anthology

September 13, 2016 by Emily Dill Leave a Comment

Hi, beauties.

Just dropping a quick update here before I go about the rest of my day. I wanted to let you all know that a flash fiction piece of mine, Samantha, has been accepted into a short story anthology by Centum Press, an imprint of Allegiant Publishing Group. My story will be in volume two of their 100 Voices Anthology series, and I’m extremely excited. I’ll share more information here when I know pre-order date, publishing date, price, format, and more. I’m just happy they were interested in my little story about a priest and a creepy little girl. 🙂

Have a wonderful week, and remember – it’s always a great day to have a great day.

One Hundred Voices Anthology

Filed Under: Short Stories Tagged With: 100 voices, anthology, author, centum press, short story, writing

Like The Tides.

July 14, 2016 by Emily Dill 2 Comments

And you are, like the ocean,
So beautiful by day

The sun beats down on your waves
That encourage me to play

A bird calls lazily above us
As we stretch, warm and alive

And nothing matters except salt water
And the base instinct to survive

But survival takes a new meaning
When the sun trades places with the moon

And you try to swallow me whole
As I race across your dune

The wildness of the sea
Is in your scream, your hair, your eyes

So I hold my breath as I go under
And pray for the sun to rise

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: poetry, writing

Fight.

May 1, 2016 by Emily Dill Leave a Comment

The air was so wet and heavy
I could hardly take a breath
And I flinched as I glanced at the horizon
And saw the colors of death

The sounds of the people around me
Slowly faded out of reach
Replaced by the noise of waves crashing
Of sea gulls at the beach

I was no longer looking at carnage
But you, laid out on the sand
And, now not holding a weapon,
I shyly extended a hand

You pulled me to you and smiled,
Waved your arms at the peaceful view,
Said, “You can never be here if you don’t win there,
So I think you know what you need to do.”

Just like that, I was back again
In the middle of a battle raging on
No more beach, no birds, no beautiful you
My paradise was gone

But my strength had been refreshed and renewed
I was ready to give a little bit more
Because in the middle of the fight, you came to show me
Just why I was fighting this war

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: poem, poetry, writing

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News and Updates

  • For 35 Years
  • Fear Is A Factor
  • The Easter Bunny Is Here.
  • Fire and Ice.
  • Weather.
  • Verbatim, library journal featuring my story, released!
  • “Relationship Add Vice” released!
  • Short story anthology featuring “Intuition” coming soon!
  • Me.
  • Short Story Collection featuring “Samantha” published!

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