Kindle Edition
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Category:
Horror
Publisher: KDP
Pages: 56
Copyright: Dec 27, 2014
Price: $0.99 (eBook)
The infamous Noralei Gloom takes her show on the road in this pulp-style thriller, exacting gruesome revenge on some fine English gents in the heart of Africa! BONUS FEATURE: Also included are the first two Noralei tales!
FREE MURDER! – To celebrate the release of Noralei Gloom’s latest lethal tale, “Congo Kill,” I am bundling it with her first two adventures. In addition, from Dec. 29-Jan. 2, the first tale, “The Ghastly Deeds of Miss Noralei Gloom,” will be free. So you have a choice – one Noralei murder, free of charge, or her first three murders bundled together in one ghastly grouping for 99 cents!
Excerpt
From the journal of Mr. Hasper Skerrit, August 8th, 1886.
I can’t get that damned native girl out of my mind. Her eyes mock me. Her body teases me. Her secrets confound me.
She speaks many of the Bantu languages but does not claim kinship with any tribe, and no one knows where she comes from. “A long ways off” is all she’ll say. The other native women dislike her and call her yeye shetani -- “she devil.” She calls herself Kehinde.
The women in the village warned us about her, just before we set out on our perilous quest into the uncharted regions. They claimed she had the power to assume a pleasing shape, to delude the eyes and inflame the souls of unwary men and lead them to their doom. But that is utter rubbish, borne of jealousy, for Kehinde is a striking beauty and quite intelligent and fluent in many tongues, both African and European, and the village women pale by comparison.
They even warned us about her attire, her gorget in particular, which is not studded with colorful beads of wood or bone, but black stones bearing strange striations -- devil stones, the women say, and they do not like her armbands either, which are made from the carapaces of giant beetles found only in the Unknown Lands.
As I write this, she is sitting a dozen feet away, watching me intently, her ripe lips forming a half smile. But there is no mirth in her eyes. They are like her stones, dark and deep as the night sky, devoid of warmth, and whenever I gaze into them I feel like I’m in quicksand. I know a thing or two about that dreadful stuff, having extricated myself from its deadly embrace on two occasions, with the aide of Pontisbury and Fortasham and a length of stout rope. But something tells me if I look into Kehinde’s eyes too long, my very soul will sink into their depths -- and no rope on earth is strong enough to pull me free.
Something within me, some sense of self-preservation, whispers ever more fervently, warning me to turn back now, to flee this native girl and this mad adventure into the heart of darkness, but Dr. Alleratt is bound and determined to press on, no matter what, for he is obsessed with finding Anakaddesh, the legendary lost city of the Congo. Kehinde claims she has been there and can lead us to it, and she carries a rune she found in the ruins. Dr. Alleratt says the two strange symbols scratched into the grayish-blue surface of the stone are part of the Thulchulian alphabet -- the Thulchulians being a vanished race from the dawn of time who supposedly built that fabled city. Kehinde carries the rune nestled between her ample breasts, attached to a leather cord, and Dr. Alleratt’s eyes often fixate upon it. He is the only man I know who can stare at a woman’s bosom and think of runes and ruins, but that is his nature.
Yet his single-mindedness can be dangerous at times, here in the wild. Already I’ve saved his life on three occasions, the latest being this morning when he was sitting on a log near the river bank, jotting in his notebook, completely unaware that a crocodile had slithered out of the water and was bearing down upon him. Fortunately I came along in the nick of time and saw the danger. Instantly I raised my Henry to my shoulder and cracked off a shot, striking the croc in the belly, and only then did Dr. Alleratt turn around and see the scabrous monster, which was writhing and thrashing only feet away, its guts spewing from the grievous wound in its side. In moments, the crocodile was dead, and Dr. Alleratt began walking in a slow circle around the beast, calmly jotting down its measurements.
“By gad,” he said, gesturing at the monster’s gaping mouth. “What a magnificent creature! Look at the size of those incisors!”
“Another few seconds and those incisors would’ve been buried in your arse,” I snapped. “You should pay more attention to your surroundings, professor.”
He stiffened. “I deliver lectures, Skerrit, I don’t listen to them. And it’s your job to watch out for dangerous beasts, not mine.”
“You have to take some responsibility for your own safety, professor. I can’t be everywhere at once.”
Before Alleratt could reply, Pontisbury and Fortasham came trotting toward us, followed by the native bearers.
“Run into a spot of trouble?” Pontisbury said, a big grin splitting his ruddy face.
“You could say that,” I replied. “This beastie tried to eat the professor.”
Fortasham blinked his bespectacled, owlish eyes and said, “Another narrow escape. You’re leading a charmed life, professor.”
The native bearers began jabbering excitedly. A lucky escape, even a narrow one, was considered a good omen, a sign the gods were watching out for us. But a few moments later the men fell suddenly silent. I looked up, wondering what was the matter.
Kehinde sauntered toward us, with that damned enigmatic smile on her face, her midnight-eyes regarding the crocodile with great interest. All gazes fell upon her as she knelt next to the monster, running a hand along its side, then she bent down and buried her face in the wound, making slurping sounds, and when she straightened up her mouth was full of blood, her eyes gleaming.
“I love the taste of croc!” she said, grinning wickedly.
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