The 9 Ghosts of Samen's Bane follows one father's ordeal with the 9 ghosts that have taken up residence in his mind. What do they want? To use him as a conduit for their amazing abilities with the ultimate goal being the destruction of the powerful god and lord of evil spirits, Samen. Full of ancient myth, legends from Indiana's haunted past, and terrifying beings from the twisted mind of Derek A. Schneider, this ghost story is sure to result in many goosebumps and sleepless nights.
Incorporating a number of sites and legends from Indiana's haunted history, The 9 Ghosts of Samen's Bane follows Adrian Dillard as he offers himself in place of his four year old son as the vessel for 9 ghosts children and a conduit for their amazing abilities. For several centuries the Lord of Evil Spirits, Samen, has brought misery to the world and the 9 ghosts wish to resume their quest for his total destruction. In time, however, Adrian discovers there's more to this ancient conflict than the ghosts children are willing to reveal.
Excerpt
Perhaps it was childish of me, but I spent the rest of the night avoiding Michelle. I stayed upstairs for a while, laying in bed and watching the nonstop cavalcade of bile that seemed to pollute the cable channels. Reality television is a giant boil on the ass of human society. That’s just my opinion.
I came down for dinner, and afterward Michelle said she was going to go into the living room and relax until bedtime. Luke and I went upstairs, grabbed some toy cars and let our imaginations run wild. I would occasionally throw in a fart sound or joke; I knew how much the boy appreciated flatulence humor. While the hours passed by and I sat there playing with my son, I kept wondering when this “trip” Jeffery had spoken of was going to happen. The day was almost over after all, and nothing strange had occured since the bathroom incident.
Then, I started wondering if perhaps Michelle was right, and maybe I was just seeing things at the restaurant. Or worse, what if I truly was going crazy?
When nine o’clock rolled around, I helped Luke get ready for bed and went downstairs to find Michelle fast asleep in the recliner. I rubbed her shoulder to wake her up and then helped her get upstairs and in to bed.
I went into the bathroom, had a quick shower, and lay down next to my pregnant wife. As I turned on my side and lifted my arm above my head a sharp pain made its presence known from the muscles in my shoulder. A throbbing reminder of the beating I took from a jammed door. I slid my other arm around Michelle and let my hand rest on her round belly. I could feel the baby moving around inside its womb and couldn’t help but smile.
While I laid there, slowly falling into what would surely be another restless night of sleep, I noticed how the full, harvest moon shone it’s light through our bedroom window, illuminating everything it touched, and I kept reassuring myself that we had made it through the entire day with no visits from phantom children. No trips to unspecified destinations. No talk of some evil creature named Samen who was bent on killing everything that lives. Just a jammed bathroom door, that’s all. A jammed bathroom door.
The dream came again that night, with no change to the oddly strung together events that saturated it.
I still woke up in my own bed. I still heard the laughing voices from the scrapbook party downstairs. I still had the same disorienting feeling of moving through water, down the stairs and looking in to the empty, yet voice filled living room. I walked into the kitchen and saw my grandfather sitting there in the corner, but that was where my dream ended, as something was urging me to wake up.
I sat up suddenly, heart racing and completely terrified. My eyes came into focus on a small figure standing at the end of my bed. By the moons light I could tell it was my son.
“Luke,” I said, trying hard to catch my breath. “What’s wrong, buddy?”
“I’m thirsty, Daddy,” the boy answered in a sleepy tone. “Can I have a drink of water?”
“Yeah,…you can take a drink…out of Mommy’s water bottle. It’s from last night,…but I’m sure it’s good.”
Luke slowly shuffled over to Michelle’s nightstand and took a few drinks out of the water bottle, while I took deep breaths in an effort to slow my heart rate down.
“Aright,” I stated, “don’t drink too much or you’ll wet the bed. Go on and lay back down in your room.”
“Okay. Night, Dad,” he put the bottle down and dragged his tired feet back toward his bedroom.
“Goodnight, big man.”
I laid my head back down on the pillow and listened to Luke crawl back into his bed. I was nearly asleep again when I heard the boy’s voice speaking softly in his room; “I don’t think Daddy is ready.”
My eyes popped open and I listened closer to the room down the hall. What I heard next was a boys voice that did not belong to my son; “We are leaving whether he’s ready or not.”
An icy terror gripped my heart and suddenly my throat felt very dry and closed off. Once again I sat up quickly and tried to scream for Luke as I got off the bed, but I couldn’t find my voice.
Suddenly, Michelle put a hand on my shoulder; the sore muscles screamed, but were ignored for the moment.
“Let go!” I croaked through gritted teeth, “There’s someone in there with Luke.”
Then I felt Michelle’s other hand close around the nape of my neck and squeeze with uncanny strength. I craned my neck around to look at my wife, but I couldn’t see her. Everything in my field of vision was a pitch black like I had never seen before. I remembered thinking to myself amidst the total panic raging in my mind; what happened to the moonlight? Where was the moonlight?
When I turned back and tried to pull away from the strong grip of the hands that held me, I noticed that everything in front of me had come into view again with the light of the moon.
I gripped the edge of the bed for leverage and pulled with all my strength. Just as I thought I might pull away, a third hand landed on my other shoulder and a fourth began to pull at my mid section. Finally, I managed to let out a loud scream just before a fifth hand covered my mouth and I was pulled violently backward and plunged into the darkness.
Then the hands were gone and I was falling, into the seemingly eternal blackness.
With my mouth uncovered and my air passage wide open, I screamed and I didn’t stop until I hit the bottom.
Pray for the light. Pray that you last that long. The Long Hour Before Light is a classic collection of Horror tales, re-mastered by Champagne Book Group
