Eight short stories and a novella to tickle your scary bone
Eight tales of terror and a novella to thrill you and chill you with surprises you may not see coming.
Table of Contents:
LORD OF DARKNESS
Fred finds a large box on his doorstep with a horrific looking ebony statue inside that terrifies him. He abhors scary things and takes it to the city dump for disposal.
JACK IN THE BOX
Harold fixes up old houses and sells them for a nice profit. That is, until he bought the dreaded house on Elm Street.
FORTUNE COOKIES
Mr. Ryder receives two fortune cookies with his Chinese food this time. One says he'll be rich; the other says he'll be dead by midnight.
MR. BLUE
Gillian receives a call with the news her mother has been killed in an automobile accident. When she returns to the old home place, shes finds her mother alive and rich, but Mr. Blue is killing elderly women.
PAYBACK
Jason has located the whereabouts of the vampire who killed his wife and his son. He has three hours of daylight to find him and drive a stake through his black heart.
POPYE & LOVEY
Two users become friends on the net and decide to meet. One is not interested in a relationship. He's told all the girls he's tortured and killed the same story.
THE CANNIBAL
Linda's cat, Bluetooth, and her cocker spaniel, Dinky, are missing. She suspects three juvenile delinquents may be responsible in a neighborhood terrorized by The Cannibal, a serial killer, who devours his victims.
RESURRECTION
Joseph Hyde is a medical miracle. He's still alive after being pronounced dead, undergoing an autopsy, an embalming, and being buried for forty-eight hours.
SUSPEND DISBELIEF
Two army buddies reconnect and become unlikely heroes in later life when sinister villains threaten their loved ones, and they are forced to be even braver now than they were as soldiers in combat.
Excerpt
The Lord of Darkness
Fred Grimes heard the doorbell ring. He hoped it wouldn't be the Jehovah's Witnesses again. It was Saturday. This time, he'd have to tell them to go to hell. Well, maybe not that far, just, sorry, I’m not interested.
Reaching the door, he looked out one of the glass panels. That's funny, no one in sight. How did they get away so quickly? He opened the door a crack and saw a box about three feet high, two feet wide, and two feet deep. He stepped onto the porch and looked in all directions, but saw no one. Who could have put this on his doorstep? He looked for a label, a delivery ticket, even postage, but there was nothing attached to the heavy white cardboard held together with clear packing tape, the kind that wouldn't break.
It was a hot day, his face was burning up with sun, and his back was freezing in the cool blast from his wonderful air-conditioner. He had his thermostat set at 70°. His wife, who had left him for another man, always said it felt like a meat locker when she came in from outside. He dragged the box into the foyer rather than lifting it. He thought of poor Phil Rosen, who'd gotten a hernia hefting a smaller box than this one.
He closed the door, removed his penknife from his pants pocket, and cut the tape that sealed the top flap. Pulling the flap upwards, he peered down into the box. He still couldn't see what was inside since the item was covered with green, Styrofoam peanuts.
Not wanting to make a mess, he went for trash bags in the kitchen and brought them to the foyer. He opened the box, grabbed handfuls of peanuts, and pitched them into the plastic bag. It wasn't long before he uncovered a black fist. Removing more of the packing peanuts, he saw the top of a black head.
He spread the trash bags out and dragged the box on top of them. Then, with his penknife, he cut the two edges of the tape vertically from top to bottom and removed the cardboard front. The Styrofoam fell away, revealing what, at first glance, appeared to be a statue of a horrific gargoyle. It was so ugly he recoiled slightly upon seeing it. It had two small horns protruding from the sides of its head, wild penetrating eyes, and two rows of sharp jagged teeth.
The statue was a black demon carved from some type of smooth stone. He glared at the hideous monstrosity’s torso, its long tail, and cloven feet. Who on God's green earth would think I would want something like this in my house? No one who knew him, that’s for sure. All his friends knew how much he abhorred scary things. He couldn’t watch a horror movie without having a nightmare.
Looking at the monstrous features more closely, he decided it must be a statue of the devil, sometimes known as Lucifer, Beelzebub, Satan, Mephistopheles and so many more. Old Scratch probably had more names than God himself.
Was this a prank, a joke, a delivery to the wrong address? He took a seat on the sofa and looked through his address book for someone who could have sent the statue, but found no one. His wife didn't love him anymore, but he couldn't think of a reason she would send something like this to him. They were still on speaking terms.
No matter who sent it, he didn't want it in his house. He could barely stand to look at it in the light of day and didn't want to think about what it would look like in the dark. He had to get rid of it before nightfall, or he would have to spend the night in a hotel. What better time than right now?
He found some duct tape and old towels in the garage, brought them to the foyer, and quickly wrapped the ghastly thing in them, using the tape to hold them in place. Then, he covered it with black trash bags and more duct tape and dragged it outside to the edge of the driveway. Afterward, he backed his car out of the garage, reluctantly lifted the monstrosity up, and pushed it across the back seat.
Returning to the foyer, he placed the cardboard pieces and Styrofoam peanuts in more trash bags, and put all of it in the trunk.
Breathless, he got in his car and started driving toward the city dump. He was a mile away when he smelled the unpleasant stench of the landfill. He wondered how the people who lived in this part of town could tolerate it. He assumed they must have paid a lot less for their homes than people in his neighborhood.
When he arrived at the dump, the gate was open and he drove in. He continued along a narrow path between heaps of mostly black garbage bags on both sides for a short distance. Then, in as good a place as any, he stopped his Altima, and got out. He opened the back door, dragged the statue onto a pile of other bags, and closed the door. He opened the trunk and dumped his trash bags on top of the devil.
As he drove back to the main road, he was relieved to be rid of the hideous monstrosity.
On his way home he stopped at the mailbox, retrieved the last two days mail, and pitched it on the passenger seat. He’d been about to clean out the garage when he heard the doorbell ring that morning and wanted to get started.
At around four o'clock, Fred was satisfied he had organized all the items in the garage as well as he ever had, and it was time for a beer.
As he sat in the living room watching reruns of CSI Miami, he heard a hard rain on the roof and heard thunder cracking loudly outside. The sun had gone down when he remembered the mail he'd left in the car. He retrieved the small pile, carried it to the kitchen counter, and sitting on a bar stool, started going through it.
The last piece of mail he picked up was an official looking letter from Blossom, Blossom, and Noteworthy, LLC. He tore open the envelope and started reading:
Dear Mr. Grimes:
Please be advised your great uncle, Fauntleroy Fox, has passed away. Mr. Fox had long been a wealthy recluse, who had almost no contact with his relatives during his life. Consequently, his final will and testament specified his estate, investments, and personal items be liquidated and the proceeds be donated to The Save the Polar Bear Foundation. In addition, it also included instructions to take the attached list of known relatives, place an index card with each name in a hat, and draw out one, who would receive his most valuable asset.
Commensurate with his specific instructions, your name was drawn, and you are the lucky recipient of Michelangelo’s only demonic statue, The Lord of Darkness, valued at five million dollars.
His further instructions were to deliver the statue to the recipient’s doorstep in an unmarked box one day before the receipt of this letter.
If the statue is not to your liking and you wish to sell it for its market value, Blossom, Blossom, and Noteworthy has a buyer who will buy it for five million dollars if the purchase can be completed before midnight on August 2, 2016.
If the transaction is not completed by the deadline, a second drawing will determine the new owner, who will have three days to act, and so on until a final disposition is made.
Respectfully
Phineas Blossom, Esq.
Fred couldn't believe his eyes at what he had just read. Today was August 2. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was 9 p.m. This had to be a joke. What else could it be?
He picked up the phone and dialed the number on the letter from the law firm. An extremely authoritative, female voice answered on the third ring, “Hello, this is the answering service for Blossom, Blossom, and Noteworthy. Can I help you?"
Fred could barely speak, but after clearing his throat, he muttered, “I received a letter from Phineas Blossom, Esq. of your firm concerning an inheritance from the Fauntleroy Fox estate. I am the recipient of Michelangelo’s Lord of Darkness and I would like to accept your firm’s offer to purchase it.”
“You must be Fred Grimes. I've been expecting your call. There’s very little time left. Let me put you through to Phineas Blossom, our senior partner."
Fred heard the phone ringing, then a click. "This is Phineas Blossom. Is this Fred?"
"Yes it is,” Fred stammered.
"Are you ready to turn over the statue to us in exchange for a cashiers check for five million dollars? If so, I can have an associate at your residence in ten minutes."
"Yes, er…I’m ready, but not quite at this moment. But rest assured, I will be able to make the sale before midnight."
"Do you still have The Lord Of Darkness in your possession?"
"Yes,” Fred lied. “But it's in a storage building. I'll have to go get it."
"I must remind you, the sale must be completed before midnight."
"I can’t understand why the deadline is so severe," Fred muttered. “I just received your letter.”
"My client will either purchase one of the De Beers Centenary diamonds or The Lord of Darkness by midnight. He wants the devil the most, but, if you can’t meet the deadline, he’ll purchase the diamond. Do you understand?”
"I do. I will call you, hopefully within the next hour, but certainly before midnight.”
"I’ll have a man waiting at your residence to complete the transaction."
"I understand. I'll be calling you." Fred hung up, grabbed a raincoat and an umbrella from the closet, and raced into the garage.
Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at the city dump. The horrific smell could still gag a buzzard, but the gate was closed. The entire area was so much more dark and foreboding at night, a shiver of unease crept up his spine.
Fred had no choice. He would deal with the consequences later. He floored the accelerator of the Altima, snapped the gate from its hinges, and skidded down the narrow path between heaps of rain-soaked, mostly black trash bags as far as his eyes could see.
How could he find the statue among all the other black trash bags when they looked the same as his bag? Maybe the duct tape would help him identify it.
He drove a little less than the distance he thought he’d driven before and got out of the car. He left his lights on so he could see about fifty feet in front of him. He knew the statue was on the right side of the access lane. At least, that would narrow the search a little.
As he knelt down to inspect each bag, he realized some of the bags were moving. He felt a sharp pain in his hand and snatched it back. Some of the bags had been gnawed open and the contents had spilled out. As he looked across the sea of blackness, he saw the glint of what seemed to be a thousand eyes in the headlight beam as a legion of rats scurried brazenly around him.
Lifting his hand into the light, he saw one of his fingers was missing a wedge of flesh and it was bleeding badly. His hand smelled of coffee grounds, spoiled meat, and fouled diapers, a stench so diverse and sickening, he felt the bile building in his throat. He couldn't worry about rabies, disease, or infection, now. Only the five million dollars mattered as he felt every putrid bag of stinking garbage for the devil.
He heard a chorus of howls not far away that chilled him to the bone. Looking up, across the black mountains of garbage, he saw four black shapes with ravenous eyes and yellow teeth bounding toward him in the beam of the headlights.
They looked like guard dogs, but what was there to guard at the city dump? He started backpedaling toward the car, fighting for purchase on the slick Mylar bags underfoot.
No sooner had he turned his back than the first Doberman was on him. He screamed futilely as the other black devils joined the first and tore at him. Their yellow gnashing teeth had turned scarlet when the largest beast ripped out his throat. Fred’s world went black forever.
* * *
At the Purple Puma Lounge, five of Fred’s colleagues from work met over drinks to discuss the most insidious prank anyone in the group had ever devised.
"How much did we have to pay the Shakespearean actor who played Phineas Blossom?” Ted asked, reluctantly.
"A hundred bucks and he was worth it. He's what made the prank work without a glitch. Fred didn’t question a thing he said.”
“I thought I did a pretty good job as the after-hours operator,” Joanne crowed.
“You were fantastic,” Ted agreed. “And cheap to boot.”
Charley added, “Fred has played too many pranks on us. It was definitely payback time, and we got him good.”
“You’re taking the statue back to the pawn shop first thing tomorrow morning?” Ted reminded.
“Absolutely.”
Jim beamed and raised his drink for a toast. “We will always remember this night as the greatest prank ever. Whatever Fred thinks up next will be humdrum compared to this.” They drank heartily.
“I’m sure glad Fred didn’t fuck up the devil transporting it to the dump. You know how scary things creep him out. We should get our entire deposit back," Jim said, sipping his Heineken.
"I can't wait to see Fred's face when he finds out we followed him to the dump and rescued the statue as soon as he left,” Joanne added with a mischievous grin. “Can you imagine him going through all that shit, trying to find the devil when it wasn’t even there.”
Charley pointed to the clock over the bar. “Well, it’s midnight. He’s out five million. The poor son of a bitch.”
They all laughed so hard they could barely breathe.
I have read this story before in the Stories section. But I'm glad you posted it here as an example of the stories in the book. If all of the stories are as good as this one, they will be an enjoyable read. I think the small synopsis of each one is very good. Giving the reader a good idea of what the story might be about before reading.
Everyone tells me they really like my story books. Unfortunately, they aren't selling.
