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Wirral Writer
Amazon
Category:
Horror
Publisher: Alan Toner
ISBN-10: B0096NS4VY
Type: Fiction
Pages: 207
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Horror Stories is a collection of 12 spine-chilling tales by Alan Toner.
Horror Stories is a new collection of fright fiction by Alan Toner, author of the True Ghost Stories series. Twelve terrifying tales covering all aspects of the horror genre - from vampires to demons to ghosts - guaranteed to chill your blood. Among the stories included are Chamber of Horrors, Resurrection Rosie and My Guy. Available on Amazon Kindle, Horror Stories will delight every fan of the horror genre.
Excerpt
CHAMBER OF HORRORS
It was approaching closing time at the waxworks. Another half hour to go, and at 5.30 p.m. it would be shutting its doors for another day. Already the visitors were starting to slacken off, only a few people now wandering through its darkened rooms.
As he stood there near the EXIT doors, clad in his smart navy-blue uniform, which made him look more like a police officer than a simple museum attendant, Flynn smiled a convivial farewell at each departing visitor. His smile lingered just that little bit longer on a gorgeous blonde girl, bottom accentuated beautifully in her tight white slacks, who passed so close by him that her strong perfume assailed his nostrils profoundly. Although he was nearing 60, and had lost most of his hair, along with his once handsome looks, Flynn still had a keen eye for a pretty girl, especially if they were blondes. His roving eyes never left that girl’s wiggling bottom, until it finally disappeared up the stairs that led back out into the street. Cor, what a cracker! he thought wolfishly. Flynn loved his job in the waxworks, for not only did it pay well, but it also provided him with the opportunity to see some very pretty sights! It was surprising how many of these young dolly birds were interested in looking at wax dummies.
As the last half hour of opening time began to tick away, Flynn noticed how cold it seemed to be getting in here. He shivered uncomfortably, wisps of his breath visible before him as the temperature continued to drop. Good job it’s near home time, he thought with some relief. It was getting like a bloody igloo in here.
A sudden click-clack of high-heels coming down from the Admin Office upstairs jolted Flynn’s thoughts away from the plummeting temperature. He turned his head and immediately flashed an amiable smile at the well-groomed woman in the smart black skirt-suit and matching dark hose and heels. It was Leslie, the office manager. She reciprocated his smile.
“Good night, Mr Flynn,” she chirped in her Cockney accent. “See you tomorrow.”
Flynn glanced down at this watch and tapped its face teasingly, then looked back up at his boss. “Hey, what time d’you call this then?” he said. “It’s not quite half-five yet, and you’re shooting off.” He loved winding the women up, especially Leslie. He secretly had a bit of a soft spot for her.
She did seem to be in a bit of a hurry tonight. “What?” Leslie just laughed dismissively. “I’m on flexi-time, aren’t I? I built up an hour the other day, so that’s why I’m getting off a bit early.” She waved a hand. “See you tomorrow, Mr Flynn.”
The attendant smiled, then tutted. “I dunno, these part-timers.”
Leslie, despite being the office manager, was always a good sport, could always take a joke. So damned attractive too. Always so well turned out in those smart suits she wore. Pity she was married, Flynn thought.
His cheeky reflective mood was dampened by the sudden sound of a child crying. The sound was growing clearer as the sobbing figure, accompanied by his mother, slowly emerged from the darkened stairway that led down into the Chamber of Horrors. Flynn turned his head and saw that it was a young woman and a boy. The boy – blonde haired and shaking, and who looked to be around 8 or 9 – was sobbing bitterly, his face buried against his mother’s coat as her hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder. Instant puzzlement and concern washed over Flynn, and he immediately stepped over towards the pair.
“My word,” he said, “whatever is the matter?” He looked down at the boy like a worried uncle. “You okay, son?”
The boy just gave the attendant a brief tear-stained glance before burying his face back into his mother’s side once more. He seemed to be trembling slightly too, as if he’d just had a nasty shock.
His mother, realising that he was too distressed to talk, spoke for him. “He’s okay, he’s okay,” she assured, raising a hand as if to allay Flynn’s concern. “Honestly. He’s just had a . . well, a bit of a fright, that’s all.” She looked back down at her son and stroked his head comfortingly.
“A fright?” Flynn’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “What do you mean?”
The woman heaved a heavy sigh, looking uncertainly from her son to Flynn and back to her son again. She seemed to be struggling to clarify just what the ‘fright’ was that had scared her son so much. Then: “Well, er, he said he saw something down there, in the Chamber of Horrors.”
Before Flynn had a chance to reply, the boy asserted his mother’s claim in a muffled and teary voice. “Y-Yeah, th-that’s right.” He sniffed and brushed a tear away from his cheek. “I did see something.”
“What did you see, son?” Flynn prompted, extending a hand to gently place it on the boy’s arm.
The boy looked up at him. Eyes red-raw from all the sobbing, he said, with a fearful look in his eye: “I saw a . . a thing.”
Flynn stared at the boy incredulously. “A thing?” His brow furrowed in puzzlement. “What do you mean, ‘a thing’?”
The boy sniffed again. With the mutual comforting he was getting from both his mother and the attendant, he now seemed to be gradually calming down, regaining his composure. “That’s what I saw,” he insisted. “I can’t think of any other word to describe it.”
Then it occurred to Flynn just how realistic-looking those horror figures down there could be. So lifelike. And if you really let your imagination run away with you, you would even think you actually saw the figures move slightly. Perhaps the boy had a somewhat fertile imagination, and had just scared himself.
“Er, look, son,” Flynn said. “I’m not disputing your claim that something frightened you down there – the state you’re in is enough. But I was just wondering . . I mean, are you quite sure that it wasn’t one of the wax figures that scared you?”
The boy shook his head vigorously and adamantly. “No, no,” he insisted. “It wasn’t one of the figures. I know
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