Horror in Iceland

November 22, 2016

Luke Frydenger

Seen & Told

We are excited to introduce a new editorial series, “Seen & Told” where we pair short fiction stories from writers around the world with imaginative imagery. This month’s theme is Horror in Iceland. Our contributing artists are Maine horror writer Katy Kelleher and Colorado-based photographer Matt Brodeur.

“Steam rose from the water, an enticing beacon of warmth in the barren landscape of cold and silently falling snow. Venturing from the path, we felt frozen moss crunch under our boots as we approached the spring. “Let’s get in,” he said, as he stripped off his sweater, revealing his skinny hairless chest, pale in the fading light. Moments later, screams echoed off mountains as he boiled alive. “
“Neon light bathes rusted metal on a fishing boat, where the crew’s too bored to sleep and too tired to keep trawling for creatures that just aren’t there, not anymore. They’re stir-crazy and lecherous, sick from each other’s bad company and the putrid green spirits that waft through their minds, a bad wind that blows no good, an ill will that seeps in like smoke under a doorway. The first man to snap drowns his best friend, the next eats his own fingers until they’re bloody stumps, and so on until the last man stands alone on the deck and chews, slowly, at a piece of dried meat, until he plunges headfirst into the frigid water.”
“They found the errant husband in a field of lichen beside the barn where his horses still graze. His wife was unsmiling when she saw the body with no fingernails, no teeth, a raw meat pulp of human lost. She was a slight woman, but wrath was no bother; it takes a village.”