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A Local Cryptid

@michelleheller.bsky.social

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Michelle Heller (she/her) Horror Author | Movie Fanatic | General Weirdo Definitely, totally human, don't worry about it 🚫NO GEN AI🚫 https://linktr.ee/Michelle_Heller

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · Mar 20

Hohoho!

I have switched platforms, solving a lot of purchasing issues for non-US buyers.

Links to the new store pages are in the comments!

#HorrorWriter #Indie #HorrorComedy #WriteSky #Booksky #HorrorAuthor

The release poster for my novel, The Worst Summer Of My Life. On the cover, a bored employee sits with her head resting on her hand. She wears a hot dog hat because she works at Wienervana, a hot dog stand inside a theme park.

Text around the cover, with arrows pointing to it:

"Idiots in cults"
"Horrors within your comprehension"
"Stressed out fast food employees"
"Female Protagonist (wishes she wasn't)"

"A gory, funny, cosmic horror adventure - Some guy I just made up"

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 1h

Omg

A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 6h

🤣

a man in a hospital gown is making a surprised face .

ALT: a man in a hospital gown is making a surprised face .

media.tenor.com

A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 6h

As an aside. I got curious lol. Apparently that's a page from a Keanu Reeves coloring book. Crush and Color: Keanu Reeves, to be specific

I firmly believe that's just Snake though. Keanu has never played a guy with an eyepatch 🤣

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 6h

LMAO right? I cannot be trusted under anesthesia. When I had a surgery a while back I was having an anxiety attack because it was my first one. The moment those "chill the patient out" meds hit my system I immediately looked at the guy wheeling me in and went, "Ohohoho. You ever see Trainspotting?"😭

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 6h

"Oh, your wall is melting?"

And then I lolled my head at him and said,

"You look like Kurt Russell. He's sssoooooo attractive."

Last thing I remember was his nurse snort-laughing. I couldn't look him in the eye for my follow ups 😭

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 6h

Ain't no way that's not Snake lmao

Reminds me of a funny story: I got my wisdom teeth out under anesthesia because I was unfortunate enough to have EIGHT of the suckers. My surgeon was the spit of Kurt Russell. Like...dead on. I told him two things as the IV drugs took me away:

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 6h

#HorrorWritersChat
You weren't sure where the sound came from at first; not until it continued enough to lure you to a magnificent tomb. Intricate statues carved into the structure stared at you with lifeless, rough eyes, one reaching out. The last thing you remember is taking its hand.

Gree_ @greethewriter.bsky.social · 6h

Come forth, Baron Crescendo! Let your guitar split the sky open, for more wraiths to dazzle us!

Behold, a note from him, for you!

“The moment you entered the graveyard, the scrape of ancient stone shadowed your ears.”

Finish it! With word of rhyme, before we dance to the end!

#HorrorWritersChat

Art by Jelle Husson, featuring a haunted monastery of many sharp-tipped towers scraping at the midnight sky. The largest is in the centre of the structure’s roof, whose walls are painted white. The monastery is located above a hilly terrain of dark stone and dark green moss. A stony, twisting road leads to the monastery.

Question Four

There he is! Baron Crescendo! Oh how the skies split open to his guitar, how more of us fly in the air! And look, a note from him, just for you!

“The moment you entered the graveyard, the scrape of ancient stone shadowed your ears.”

Well? Go on! Word or rhyme, continue his Muse!

No links, covers, or self-promo! Leave that for the end! Quote the post & include the hashtag!

#HorrorWritersChat

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 6h

👀

A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 6h

👀 I have not!

/Adds to never ending TBR pile

A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 6h

For real!! It feels like a forgotten option these days.

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 6h

#HorrorWritersChat

I like seeing what authors/artists do to make their own spin on things. One of my favorite ghost movies is The Devil's Backbone, from Guillermo Del Toro. The ghost is so iconic in it for me, it hardly compares to others!

Gree_ @greethewriter.bsky.social · 7h

Listen to the Symposium’s finest vocalist, as their tenor bends the living into unnatural angles and swivels them into the air! Tell us, what ghosts do you prefer? Of the folkloric tradition, or those invented by authors? And why?
#HorrorWritersChat

Question Three

Art by Jelle Husson, featuring a haunted monastery of many sharp-tipped towers scraping at the midnight sky. The largest is in the centre of the structure’s roof, whose walls are painted white. The monastery is located above a hilly terrain of dark stone and dark green moss. A stony, twisting road leads to the monastery.

It is always a delight to see our violinists perform! How the living bend their splintering bones as they float above us all! Tell us, our ghostly compatriots – which of us are better? Of the folkloric kind? Or invented by our shadowy creators?

No links, covers, or self-promo! Leave that for the end! Quote the post & include the hashtag!

#HorrorWritersChat

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 7h

#HorrorWritersChat

I like unexpected locations. A spooky old house is always a classic, but I kinda love haunted objects and remote locations. I am however a SUCKER for ghost ships.

Gree_ @greethewriter.bsky.social · 7h

Now, let us begin! Let the flutes bleat and the trumps blare, snatching all the souls of the living away! What are your favourite haunts? Mausoleums? Lavish estates? What secrets do their wraiths protect within?
#HorrorWritersChat

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 7h

#HorrorWritersChat

Heya demons, it's ya girl, Michelle Heller. I write horror of many kinds, am currently in the swamp ass capitol of the world (Florida), and I'd definitely be that ghost that's just lying in bed next to you. Not to scare you. I'm just tired, man.

Gree_ @greethewriter.bsky.social · 7h

Be welcomed to the ethereal music hall! A stringed aperitif is in order… do tell the Symposium what do you write, from where… and what IS, indeed, your wraithful visage for tonight?
#HorrorWritersChat

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 2d

Pff. A lil bit of duct tape and it'll have 20 more years

A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 2d

#pretendpanel

I primarily write horror, so yes! So far I seem to enjoy taking characters in comfortable spaces and making those spaces extremely uncomfortable for them by introducing horrors beyond their comprehension. Both of my novels are, boiled down, creature features, lol.

Hiria Dunning @hiriadunning.bsky.social · 4d

Hello #pretendpanel! I've been on the road all day so I have a bunch to catch up on from yesterday, but here's the next question...

October 4th: How have you explored fear in your writing?

#WritingCommunity #Writers #Authors #WritingPrompts

#pretendpanel
a daily prompt tag hosted by @hiriadunning.bsky.social
October 4th: How have you explored fear in your writing?
Please support your fellow #pretentpanel posters with replies, likes and reposts
New #pretendpanel questions every Friday and Saturday. Hop in any time!

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 2d

Pictures I can hear

A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 2d

Sometimes I get the urge to shave my head again because I really miss 5 minute prep time lmao. But I look like a chicken nugget when I do that. 🤣

A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 2d

If I gotta be somewhere at noon I better get going at 8 because I need to detangle, co-wash, let it sit for 10, rinse cold. Conditioner, let it sit for 10, rinse cold. Hair mask! Sit for 15. Rinse cold. Then primer cream, then featherlight hold gel, then drying for 2 hours with a diffuser, THEN-

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 2d

Today's #promptober brought out the idiot in me. I apologize for the psychic damage. "I'm In The Woods and The Sky Went Dark" was the prompt.

#horrorcomedy

“Where you at, Keith? Over.”

“It’s Alpha over the comms, Zero. And I’m up on the ridge. Over.”

I rolled my eyes. “We don’t need code names. This isn’t a military operation. Over.”

Zero. Almost as stupid as Alpha. Keith was about as alpha as a pile of wet socks, and I didn’t know why I let him drag me out here. He wanted proof, he said. Deep in the towering woods, somewhere in East Bumfuck Nowhere, I began to regret my decisions. This wasn’t worth five grand. Well. Maybe it was. But I would rather have had to be a male escort for a day, or whatever else Keith was up to with his sordid life, than to be out here, in a gorge, watching the clouds threaten rain.

It was sunny when we started, but if I didn’t have my watch on, you could have tricked me into thinking it was dusk. “Zero, this is my operation, and I’m ex-military. Over.”

I groaned. You never made it out of boot camp, Keith.

There was something to be said about not letting self-important idiots get bored. They wound up roping down-on-their luck idiots into wilderness excursions, seeking out animals that didn’t exist. “Fine, fine. I’m down in the gorge, Alpha. Still no signs. Over.”

“Copy.” A smug laugh. “That’s because I haven’t set up the calls yet. Just you wait. Over.”

Just think about the money, I told myself. That’s two month’s rent covered now, which meant I could keep my paychecks for a glorious eight weeks, which meant maybe I’d get a little bit ahead for a change. Maybe I could lie, milk this for a few more trips, get five more grand. It would be easy. Just tell him I saw something, but lost the trail. While I formulated my plan, and otherworldly howl filled the gorge, blasted from speakers on high. An alleged, genuine sasquatch call.

To me, it sounded like a guy getting caught in his zipper.

The rain started. I only heard it at first, until it came down hard enough to filter through the dense canopy, darkening the area even more. At this rate, I’d need my flashlight, and man, I didn’t believe in this shit; but it was cause for worry. The animals that did exist were just as dangerous as an 8 foot tall ape. Bears. Wolves. The call played on repeat, every ten seconds or so, and a whole lotta nothing happened.

I kept my eyes peeled, leaning against the cool, moist slate that layered to make the walls of this place. “I don’t think we’re in the right spot after all. Over.”

No response.

Damn storm.

I moved to climb my way out to get a better signal, and found myself face to face with a ballsack so massive, the flaccid dong above it may as well have been its jaunty hat. I swept my eyes up the tree trunk of a creature, which stared down at me with what I could only guess was disdain. “Can you hear me now, Zero? Over.”

I was six foot one and eye-level with bigfoot’s tacklebox.

I raised my radio with a shaking hand. “T-that call wouldn’t be like, a mating call, would it? Over.”

“It’s possible. Why? Over.”

Bigfoot stooped, a gigantic hand consuming my shoulder, and sniffed me before recoiling with an angry grunt. “Y-you ever think it’s a bad idea to-to catfish a monster, Keith? O-over.”

Bigfoot growled.

“It’s Alpha, Zero. Over.”

He lifted me with no effort. Didn’t even need to use both hands. His mouth stretched open in a threat display, lips peeling back over fangs that would make a mandrill pause. I had a feeling I wouldn’t need to worry about rent either way, anymore.

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 3d

Name: Michelle
Current read: An unreleased novel 👀
Last show: The Summer Hikaru Died
Last Film: Good Boy (loved it!!)
Fav book this year: Sweet Rena by @martinshannon.bsky.social
Fav watch this year: Heretic, Weapons, Superman

+something spooky!

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 3d

Hell fucking yeah. Get out of here, fascist garbage.

Cristian Farias @cristianfarias.com · 3d

This video of Chicagoans intervening to save a man from being abducted off the streets by ICE is making the rounds on Instagram.

Community action works.

Source: www.instagram.com/reel/DPZL2AL...

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 3d

“Do it,” the voice egged. “You deserve it.”

I stood over the bathtub, fists clenching. “Shut up.”

“No one will care. It’s time. In fact, they might even be happier. They’ll be glad you finally went through with it.”

I spun on the dark shape in the corner of the room. “Stop it! You’re always…” I felt insane, talking to a shadow. A shadow that probably wasn’t real. Just some manifestation of my self-loathing, brought out by sleep deprivation and self-medication. “You’re always pushing me. I’ll do it when I’m ready. Shut up.”

The shadow grew, climbing to the ceiling, stretching over the tub. It extended spindly arms as if presenting a fine banquet. “The water’s warm. Lovely. It’ll feel fine. It won’t hurt. Then you can just slip away…”

“I said shut up!” I shouted.

The shadow shrank. Then it mumbled. “I’m just looking out for you. You know that…”

“Why don’t you haunt someone else?”

“I can’t.” It waved its arms. “Born here. Tied to here. I will be here long after this building is gone, long after you.” A thoughtful pause. “I suppose if you moved out, I’d then get to haunt someone else, though.”

I sighed.

“You’ve been my favorite.” Cold, wispy limbs encircled me, peeling off the tile. “So I’d like for you to stay.”

I rubbed my face. “You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know how hard it is.”

“Ah, but I do!” Its voice, like warm velvet, cradled my brain. Lulling me. I didn’t want to trust it as much as I did, but who could blame me? “How do you think I got here?”

“You used to be human?”

Something that was close to a nod shook the thing, and it withdrew its arms from me to plunge a long, long finger into the water. “It’s perfect. If you wait too long, it’ll get cold. Do it. I promise you won’t regret it.”

I didn’t deserve it, though. The shadow was wrong. I was a terrible, terrible person; no friends, dead end job, no love, not even a pet. Just this thing in my apartment, whispering in the dark, telling me to do things I would never bring myself to do if not for the constant, gentle pressure wearing me down. It beckoned me, magnetic, and I caved.

Fine.

Whatever.

Nobody would care. It was right. There was no one to come looking for me. Not now, not ever. Maybe…maybe I did deserve this. If no one else was going to be there for me, why not? I pooled my clothes on the floor and sank into the sea of bubbles with a sigh.

“Theeeeeeeeeeere you go.” The shadow pulled itself off the wall, folded too-long knees against a vague chest, and joined me with what felt like a grin. It picked up a sliced cucumber from the plate on the edge and gingerly applied one to each of my eyes. “Self care is important.”

A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 3d

Flames licked at kindling, wrapping loving fingers around the split logs. I absently tossed random things into it; leaves, sticks, bits of trash. I always loved fires. The smell, the atmosphere. Out here in the woods, there was nothing but the warmth, the mesmerizing patterns.

Wasn't enough to kill the thoughts, though.

I'd come here for peace, but the quiet only amplified my torture. The man I'd never have. That sweet smile, his laugh. The way he smelled. I couldn't get him out of my head, not ever. My brain tormented me with imaginings of how it would feel to nestle into his chest every night.

If I had been in a different mood, I might've listened to the intrusive thought to just lay down in the bonfire. Anything to make the madness end. Anything. I wasn't alone out here, though, and that was distracting. A girl couldn't grieve in peace even in the middle of nowhere.

Intermittent shuffling. A stick breaking. A loud, drawn out huff. I stood and grabbed my hatchet, no stranger to campsite defense. This was my territory; the wilderness just didn't know it yet.

I followed the sounds around the back of my tent until I saw him, lying there, struggling against the ropes. "Baaaaabe! You're awake! You know you must have a fast metabolism. No wonder you always look so good."

"MmmmmMmMMMMMM!!" He thrashed like a fish on a dock, eyes wide.

I planted my boot on his chest to steady him, laughing. "Hang on, I can't hear a word, hon." I pulled down his gag.

"What the fuck, Nico?! Wha-what are you--"

I crouched over him and clamped my hand over his mouth. God, even his lips were perfect, plush against my palm. He looked so cute, like a terrified kitten. "Heyyyyy I'm gonna need you to be a little quieter, sweetheart."

He heaved, that gorgeous chest rising and falling, exhaling in shaky breaths out his nose. I gently pulled my hand away and patted his cheek. "That's better. Listen, I hate to do this, but it's the only thing that works, Lance."

"Wh...wha..." he panted. …

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 3d

George had never seen such a clear apparition before, and he'd been running seances for the better part of a decade. He sat in awe, nearly forgetting his focus, as a man hovered above the table, so crisp and defined, one would think they could reach out and touch them.

That wasn't a good idea though.

It was a myth that ghosts weren't solid, at least in the sense that you could pass through them. They tended to ignore walls and such, but trying to walk through one generally left you changed forever, learning the true meaning of "haunted".

The sobbing woman across from him held her hands over her mouth, staring in grieving disbelief. Her name was Diane, and her need of this man must have been deep, strong; because as George thought to himself before...this was a 4KHD ghost.

"I need to contact him, even for one last time. It's so important. I'll pay anything."

George liked the "Anything" price range. His pockets two thousand heavier, he watched her struggle to compose herself.

"Miss, I can't keep them here long. I know this is emotional for you, but you need to talk to him now, or it'll be never."

The floating man seemed to snap into consciousness, looking around the room, bewildered. By the time his eyes fell to her, George could have sworn he saw him roll them. He frowned, figuring that it was a trick of the light. The candles weren't the best for visibility, after all.

"Oh! Oh my God, Kerry! Kerry, I'm going insane without you."

The ghost sagged, feet touching the tabletop before he lowered out of the air, pooling into a sitting position so he could have her at eye level. Diane reached for him and George threw a hand up "No! No. Diane, you can't. Remember the rules we went over?"

She hesitated. Dropped her hand in her lap. Sniffled.

He didn't want to rush her, but this was becoming taxing. George cleared his throat and tapped his watch. Diane nodded, and let out a breath. "Kerry, I need to know where your grandmother's Christmas decorations are. I c…

Kerry leaned back like he was asking God himself to give him strength, staring at the chandelier. "God damn it, woman," he sighed. George jumped. Usually they couldn't talk. "Can't I have peace even now?! Really? You drag me out of the nether to ask about Christmas decorations?!"

Diane grew indignant. "You know me! You were the one with the good memory. Kerry everyone is coming this year. If they knew I lost them--"

"Then they'll know you're a ditz. Hell Diane, that's how I died! You forget everything!"

"Oh, don't blame me for that!! Don't you dare!"

The conversation devolved into a lover's spat.

George quietly snuck away to give them some privacy. Eventually the channeling would fizzle out.

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A Local Cryptid @michelleheller.bsky.social · 3d

All my life, I dreamed of this. A cottage in the woods. Secluded, alone. Away from all the assholes. I found an old, old broom in the basement — the stereotypical kind you’d see a witch flying on. No sleek plastic handle and synthetic brush; a knobbly, crooked one with what was probably the oldest bundle of broomcorn in existence. By all means I should have donated it to one of those village museums people go to, the ones full of actors dressed like they’re from the 1800s, where you can watch them make butter ye olde way and whatever. Like a shittier, less horny renaissance fair.

But this broom? It was better than any broom I’d ever owned. Not a speck of dust could escape it. Whoever tied this together, whittled the handle, I hoped they were proud of themselves. I barely needed to bring out the vacuum. If I wasn’t a rational person, I’d wonder if it really was magic. Truth was, much like almost everything, new didn’t always mean better. A handcrafted broom would trump a mass-produced hunk of junk any day of the week. It was nice not to worry about keeping dirt off the floor, because even living apart from our failed attempt at a functioning society had its problems.

There were things in the woods. Obviously. They weren’t in my back yard; I was in theirs. Squirrels got into my attic a lot. I woke up one morning to find a raccoon had gotten into my oatmeal. A deer ate half my pepper garden once, and boy I hope the bastard got the shits from that, because I had nothing to can for the winter and it messed up my whole self-sufficient schedule. I had to go the grocery store. And talk to people.

Possums though, we were cool. I technically had one. Her name was Gertrude. She was wild, still. Never came inside. But she liked me.

One day some kids from way down the road were selling something for their class trip, and saw me on my porch, broom propped up beside my rocking chair, Gertrude on my lap chowing down on a tiny pancake I made for her. Since then I’ve been referr…

And wouldn’t you fucking know it, he actually turned into a rat. Right before my eyes.

I fished him out of his clothes, squeaking and flailing, and I actually felt bad. “Shh, shh. It’s—HEY. NO BITING.” I gathered his clothes and bundled him in them to protect myself, then hurried into the driver’s seat, tossing my broom into the passenger side. He popped his new, ratty head out and kept squeaking at me, furious. “Okay, I know. Dude, I know. Listen. I’m not a witch.”

The man-rat actually crossed his little arms. I held back a laugh.

“I’m not. I was just fucking with everyone. This broom came with the house. Everyone made judgments about me, so I decided to screw with you all. I’m from Los Angeles, for chrissakes. I’m an atheist. I didn’t think magic was real until just now.”

His tiny shoulders slumped in defeat.

I had to admit. He was adorable now.

“Let’s just get you home, and…” I puffed out air. “I don’t know how to undo this. But I’ll figure it out. Okay?”

Man-rat squeaked and flopped down into his old shirt, little paws over his face. I couldn’t help it. I scratched his belly. “I mean you’re way cuter now though, that’s something—I SAID NO BITING.”