Tag Archives: Horror

Good Morning – Prologue to ? erm – not sure yet what to call it.

Stickiness was the first hint that something was amiss.  Her hand, between her fingers, felt gluey and oddly crunchy as she bent them.  Flora cracked open her lids and squinted in the harsh light, she tried to read the numbers on the flashing digital clock but her brain refused to make sense of the blur. She reached for her spectacles.  The curtains hadn’t been closed, that was odd, very odd, the watery light showed smears and stains on the skin of her hand and arm, what the heck?

Her head pounded, a dull heaviness, her stomach contracted and acid threatened her throat.  She tried to remember. Exactly how much had they drunk last night? Fighting the nausea she acknowledged instead misery that hovered at the edges of her heart.  They’d had another row, another blazing, painful confrontation.  Tears formed and overflowed, yet more tears.  She had to get out, this relationship was no good, it was toxic, destroying them both, going nowhere.

She pushed back the duvet and glanced down.

Panic threw her from the bed, she backed towards the wardrobe her gaze fixed on the devastation of stained sheets and ruby splattered pillows.  A knife lay on his side of the bed, Trevor’s side.  What the hell was he doing with a knife, a knife in bed?  She peered down at her shaking body.

Her nightdress was smeared and streaked, there were cuts and slashes in the fine fabric and the tiny lace frill around the hem hung in ribbons around her knees.  Her legs let her go and she flopped in a quivering heap to the carpet.

She couldn’t find the wound, her arms, legs, her belly; all seemed undamaged, whole and pain free.  She stretched a hand behind her and stroked it across her back – nothing.  Where was it from, the blood, she wasn’t hurt yet she was covered in it, the bed was a turmoil of gore there were marks on the carpet, the wall near the light switch.  The more she looked the more she found.  It was everywhere.

“Trevor?” she heard herself whisper, it came from far away, feeble and quavering, “Trev?” There was no answer.  There was no sound of the shower, no flush of the toilet, no clatter of pots and dishes from the kitchen.  The house was silent, dead and silent.

“Trevor?”

She pushed to her feet, there were drips of red on her slippers, she couldn’t bear to push her toes into them.

“Trevor?”  She recalled them screaming at each other the night before. Her, screeching his name in fury, both of them drunk and unreasonable, railing and tearing in their anger.

“Trevor?”  She made her way down the hallway, no sound.  The red smears on the wall accused her now, her stomach turned and roiled, the door to the kitchen was slightly ajar, she reached out.  Her blood stained hand touched the cream paint, she pushed at the wood.

“Trevor?”

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Good Morning

A piece of Flash – just because.

*************************

Stickiness was the first hint that something was amiss.  Her hand, between her fingers, felt gluey and oddly crunchy as she bent them.  Flora cracked open her lids and squinted in the harsh light, she tried to read the numbers on the flashing digital clock but her brain refused to make sense of the blur. She reached for her spectacles.  The curtains hadn’t been closed, that was odd, very odd, the watery light showed smears and stains on the skin of her hand and arm, what the heck?

Her head pounded, a dull heaviness, her stomach contracted and acid threatened her throat.  She tried to remember. Exactly how much had they drunk last night? Fighting the nausea she acknowledged the misery that hovered at the edges of her heart.  They’d had another row, another blazing, painful confrontation.  Tears formed and overflowed, yet more tears.  She had to get out, this relationship was no good, it was toxic, destroying them both, going nowhere.

She pushed back the duvet and glanced down.

Panic threw her from the bed, she backed towards the wardrobe her gaze fixed on the devastation of stained sheets and ruby splattered pillows.  The knife lay on his side of the bed, Trevor’s side.  What the hell was he doing with a knife, a knife in bed?  She peered now at her shaking body.

Her nightdress was smeared and streaked, there were cuts and slashes in the fine fabric and the tiny lace frill around the hem hung in ribbons around her knees.  Her legs let her go and she flopped in a quivering heap to the carpet.

She couldn’t find the wound, her arms, legs, her belly; all seemed undamaged, whole and pain free.  She stretched a hand behind her and stroked it across her back – nothing.  Where was it from, the blood, she wasn’t hurt yet she was covered in it, the bed was a turmoil of gore there were marks on the carpet, the wall near the light switch.  The more she looked the more she found.  It was everywhere.

“Trevor?” she heard her whisper, it came from far away, feeble and quavering, “Trev?” There was no answer.  There was no sound of the shower, no flush of the toilet, no clatter of pots and dishes from the kitchen.  The house was silent, dead and silent.

“Trevor?”

She pushed to her feet, there were drips of red on her slippers, she couldn’t bear to push her toes into them.

“Trevor?”  She remembered that they had screamed at each other the night before. Her, screeching his name in fury, both of them drunk and unreasonable, railing and tearing in their anger.

“Trevor?”  She made her way down the hallway, no sound.  The red smears on the wall accused her now, her stomach turned and roiled, the door to the kitchen was slightly ajar, she reached out.  Her blood stained hand touched the cream paint, she pushed at the wood.

“Trevor?”

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Good Morning – a very brief flash fiction piece

Stickiness was the first hint that something was amiss.  Her hand, between her fingers, felt gluey and oddly crunchy as she bent them.  Flora cracked open her lids and squinted in the harsh light, she tried to read the numbers on the flashing digital clock but her brain refused to make sense of the blur. She reached for her spectacles.  The curtains hadn’t been closed, that was odd, very odd, the watery light showed smears and stains on the skin of her hand and arm, what the heck?

Her head pounded, a dull heaviness, her stomach contracted and acid threatened her throat.  She tried to remember. Exactly how much had they drunk last night? Fighting the nausea she acknowledged the misery that hovered at the edges of her heart.  They’d had another row, another blazing, painful confrontation.  Tears formed and overflowed, yet more tears.  She had to get out, this relationship was no good, it was toxic, destroying them both, going nowhere.

She pushed back the duvet and glanced down.

Panic threw her from the bed, she backed towards the wardrobe her gaze fixed on the devastation of stained sheets and ruby splattered pillows.  The knife lay on his side of the bed, Trevor’s side.  What the hell was he doing with a knife, a knife in bed?  She peered now at her shaking body.

Her nightdress was smeared and streaked, there were cuts and slashes in the fine fabric and the tiny lace frill around the hem hung in ribbons around her knees.  Her legs let her go and she flopped in a quivering heap to the carpet.

She couldn’t find the wound, her arms, legs, her belly; all seemed undamaged, whole and pain free.  She stretched a hand behind her and stroked it across her back – nothing.  Where was it from, the blood, she wasn’t hurt yet she was covered in it, the bed was a turmoil of gore there were marks on the carpet, the wall near the light switch.  The more she looked the more she found.  It was everywhere.

“Trevor?” she heard her whisper, it came from far away, feeble and quavering, “Trev?” There was no answer.  There was no sound of the shower, no flush of the toilet, no clatter of pots and dishes from the kitchen.  The house was silent, dead and silent.

“Trevor?”

She pushed to her feet, there were drips of red on her slippers, she couldn’t bear to push her toes into them.

“Trevor?”  She remembered that they had screamed at each other the night before. Her, screeching his name in fury, both of them drunk and unreasonable, railing and tearing in their anger.

“Trevor?”  She made her way down the hallway, no sound.  The red smears on the wall accused her now, her stomach turned and roiled, the door to the kitchen was slightly ajar, she reached out.  Her blood stained hand touched the cream paint, she pushed at the wood.

“Trevor?”

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Cellar

“Ten quid if you do it.”

“Shannon, aw Shannon.”

“Go on, you always say you don’t refuse a dare.”

“But the cellar, at night.”

“Fair enough.  I’ll keep the money and I’ll tell everyone you were too chicken to take the dare.  It’s fine.”

“You won’t.”

“Bloody will and I’ll tell Carla.”

“Okay, okay, okay I’ll do it.”

“Right.  One hour, at night.  No torch, no phone and nothing with luminosity.”

“Luminosity?  Did you swaller a dictionary  – Ow.  So okay, when.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Yup.”

“You’re a cow you know that.”

“No, just a big sister.  It’s a dirty job but someone has to do it.”…

It was darker than he expected, he blinked but still couldn’t decide whether his eyes were open or closed.  It was cold too, icy damp cold that had him shivering now and it had only been… Well how long had it been?  He had counted for a while, after the big door slammed and the noises of the house disappeared and all the light in the world was obliterated.  He had counted one elephant, two elephant, three elephant on and on till six hundred and his voice had sounded small and feeble in the silence and he had begun to lose count as the light had moved from midnight to grey with great black shadows looming.

He rubbed his arms and took a tentative step, sliding his feet along the invisible floor.  There used to be an old chair, a smelly old chair with ratty arms and wooden legs.  It was near the wall in the corner.  If he sat in that he could close his eyes and pretend he was somewhere else.

The great dark shape in front of him now was the cupboard, perhaps there was just the small glint from the lock.  The darker line, did that mean that the door was open. No, no don’t think of it.

The four-legged monster in the middle of the room was the table, heavy and solid.  He headed towards it. from there it was but five paces to the chair.  He reached out his hand, nearer now.  He grabbed at the corner as his feet slid on the slippery puddle.  It shouldn’t be wet, there was no wet down here.  He slid his trainer back and forth on the mess.  Grit rasped under the sole.  What?  He knelt and touched it, slimy and warm.  A glob dripped onto his head.  He startled, jumped back, heart pounding.

Holding his breath now and sliding his hand along the edge of the table he was closer to the chair.  He could see it, a dark mass crouched in the corner.  He would just sit on it, close his eyes and think good, warm thoughts.  He turned sideways began to slide his behind onto the seat and his bowels turned to liquid as arms enfolded him. The scream died in his throat as his voice was stolen by terror.

For a while he struggled, just for a while until it became impossible.  For a while he breathed until the embrace refused his lungs the space to expand.  For a while he lived.  For just a little while.

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Beatrice and the Kitten

Beatrice squeezed her eyelids tighter, flashes of colour sparked on the insides of the lids and salty liquid leaked onto her smooth cheeks.

She wasn’t going to do it.

There was a fire raging in her belly, her blood pounded with it, molten tungsten beating through her veins.  It was what she was meant to do, it was her very reason to be, it was why she existed, and the torment of rebellion was physical pain.

Spawned by a hag there was no other destiny but that she too became a hag.  For years Halloween had been her big night, the gates to the nether world opened and the beings would emerge.  As the guardian of the gates she would direct them and have ready for them sacrificial offerings.  She had done it for sixteen years, since her mother had left to join the hell hoards and she had done it well.

She hadn’t been cursed with a conscience and so she had recited the incantations and cast the spells and then stood by as the awful scenes were played out before her, goat, dove, child, anything with warm blood and a pure heart.

She had turned into herself and accepted, there was no other way.  Not this year though, not this year.  The young creature that she now cradled in her hand flicked out a sandpaper tongue and rasped at her skin.  Great green eyes studied her face, questioning and unafraid.  Tiny paws flexed and the kitten began to wash herself.

Other kittens had come and gone, other creatures warm, breathing and born to die but this tiny scrap of life had found her heart and softened it against all that was reasonable and she must find a way to save it.

Gently the bundle of fluff and purrs was tucked into the basket, the night was moving on, the sparks of small stars pricked the dark orb and colour had been wiped from the field and hedgerows.

Beatrice lifted the wicker carrier and began her escape.  She headed for the cathedral, if she could find sanctuary for her tiny charge perhaps there would be hope.

She dragged open the great door and made her way along the aisle, her feet making small sounds on the old flagstones. The kitten mewed softly and she took a moment to gentle it, stroking and murmuring as velvet slipped beneath her fingers.  She would leave the kitten here and she would face the demons and perhaps she would die but at last she had turned away from the dark and the small black cat had shown her the light.

 

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Bus Stop – Chapter 59

 

Thanks as always for the support with this work.  I have taken it down now as it is with the Publisher awaiting a decision.

If you have read the serial and missed the last few episodes do get in touch and I’l arrange to send you the final chapters.

 

Thanks again and fingers crossed that it makes the cut.

 

 

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You’ve got mail

I didn’t know, I had no idea, if I’d known I would never have opened the inbox.

I was just checking the emails, sorting out the junk, the ads and the spam, click, click, click.  That was when I saw it, for the first time, the first message.

Do not delete this.

Not very original and I was going to press the delete key, I was, I promise you but fool that I am I opened it.  I read it.

Tonight. it will be tonight.

I thought it was just spam but even then it felt weird.  It was a spooky feeling reading those five words.  I had already answered some of my messages, you may have had something from me, you who are reading this.  If you did I’m sorry, I don’t know if I sent it on, I pray that I didn’t.

I switched the machine off then but I couldn’t keep away, it drew me back.  There was my need to keep checking, my addiction, the urge to keep logging on, to see if there was any more.  I just couldn’t leave it.

I meant to look at You tube to watch something to take my mind of it, something to settle me down, to calm me, some meaningless fuzz but I had to keep going back and back to the inbox each time the stupid chime rang, I flicked over to it.

There was more, much more – lines and lines and lines of it.

Tonight.

Later tonight.

It is coming.

You cannot escape.

Soon it will be time.

I should have deleted them immediately of course I don’t know what stopped me.  I tried to follow the links back, I couldn’t find the thread, you won’t be able to – don’t even try.   The “from” box was full of gobbledegook and the harder I tried the more the machine fought me taking me down routes I didn’t want and twice closing down completely.   I could have left it shut down, I should have gone to bed, but I couldn’t shake it – “What is coming?  When will it arrive?  Where is it from?

Each time I turned it on there was more until it was literally flooding in more and more and more – endlessly filling the screen.

Tonight

Escape is not possible

Are you ready?

I tried to call Peter, he’ll have a message on his machine, don’t blame yourself Peter, don’t feel guilty for not being in.

It will be soon.

By that time I was a gibbering wreck, I think I yelled at the machine, “Stop it, whoever you are stop it.”  I dragged the plug from the wall, twice I did that and still something made me come back.  I tried I promise you all I tried to stop it but each time I ended up back at the inbox and then suddenly there was nothing.

Just a grey screen, rubbery looking – nothing.

Slowly, slowly it began, like it was creeping from the depths of well – somewhere – a shape, a shadow, a wavering figure.  It moved, and grew and was created.  Its eyes opened, they burned into mine, and its mouth gaped and drooled.

Don’t look at it, perhaps if you don’t look at it  – oh I don’t know.

The hands reached through towards me, claws reaching and stretching closer, closer.  The screen wavered and rippled.  There was a noise, it started as a tiny whine but it grew and grew until it became unbearable.  I thought my brain would explode, I pressed my hands over my ears, it didn’t help.  Then the room started to spin as I watched them, the hands and arms sliding out  from inside the machine , the bony fingers flexing and bending.  Once they were through they crawled towards the edge of the desk and began to pull the creature through, it was a ghastly delivery thorough the electronic vagina that my machine was.

I don’t know where it is.

I don’t know how much longer I have, as I type this skin sloughs from my fingers.  I am weak, I can no longer stand and breath rattles in my chest.  There isn’t much pain but as I watch my body disintegrate  I need to let you know – my family, I need to let you know that I loved you.  I wish you were here now, I wish someone was here now,

I don’t know where it has gone, I don’t know what it did to me as it passed me by, I can’t remember what it did but it is out there now, it is roaming the world.  I just hope someone finds me and this message before it’s too late.  I’m sorry I didn’t mean to let it through but I just couldn’t keep away from my machine.  I’m sorry.

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My Best Seller is free on Amazon from today

Who Follows :-

 

A passing glance leads to obsession in this dark story of love, loneliness and secrets.

From the very first glance nothing is as it seems. Lies and obsession lurk beneath the surface and as the relationships develop disaster seems inevitable.

**********************

Just a few of the reviews on Amazon

Format:Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase
This is a terrific, gripping, page-turning novella with twists and turns at each chapter. The unusualness of the story keeps it interesting and the lead character is scary and creepy, yet you find yourself rooting for her even as you learn more and more about her. And then, halfway through, everything changes. Horror, emotion and then more horror. You never know what’s going to happen next. At points I was so involved in the story, and so tense, I found myself shouting “No! Don’t do it!” at the book. Great stuff. Highly recommended.
5.0 out of 5 stars Creepy and gripping 26 Feb 2012
Format:Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase
I read the book in less than 24 hours. Every time I thought I knew where the story was going there was another twist, taking the plot in a different direction. I did not like the main character, who also narrates the first part of the story, but I still could not stop reading. Worth reading
4.0 out of 5 stars Who follows. 4 July 2012
Format:Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase
I read this when I should have been working but couldn’t put it down. I love the slow way it opens with just the casual hint of the way her new partner would have to change her ways as they begin to live together. At once the character is sweet and diffident yet with subtle overtones of unspeakable cruelty. Loved it.
Also available in paperback.

Also available in paperback.

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Today’s freebie

A dark and awful story – free for another two days on Amazon.

 

Free for Kindle and Kindle Apps - go on click on the Angel !

Free for Kindle and Kindle Apps – go on click on the Angel !

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SALE SALE SALE

Okay, starting on Christmas day I have made all my books free – one after the other like a little train.  Free to download for reading on your lovely new Kindle that you got for Christmas.

WHAT

You didn’t get a Kindle for Christmas – well blow me down, roll me in sugar and call me a doughnut – why-ever not!!!

Oh well, it doesn’t matter – download the free app, download my free books and eat your left over mince pies curled up by the fire – You know you want to – well even if you don’t – I want you to – go on. Aw gowwan

Free on Kindle from 25th May 2014 for three days

Free on Kindle from 25th May 2014 for three days

Now available in paperback from Createspace or Amazon

Now available in paperback from Createspace or Amazon

Now in Paperback from Amazon or Createspace

Now in Paperback from Amazon or Createspace

 

Now available in paperback.

Now available in paperback.

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