Nightmare Fuel: The Ultimate Collection of Short Horror Tales (14 page)

"We just have to get back, but be careful on this floor everyone, it's clearly not safe," Rick advised, back turned to the black void.

"Rick!" Susan screamed, pointing behind him.

Pale, ripe, creepy people had started climbing out the floor's gash. The girls shrieked as they all scuttled away from the hoards of undead beings rising from their basement graves. Rick resourcefully began launching chairs at them. They were cheap, plastic and old, but they sent a couple tumbling back into the basement. But within no time, the chairs had been used, and Rick's energy was dwindling as he fought for breath in the chaos. The white coloured faction of the undead were relentless, they just kept climbing. Two had made it from the darkness and were crawling on the ground, approaching the helpless family. Rick was beginning to understand the warnings in the bathroom now. Rick was fixated on the ghostly bodies that continued to writhe and slither at him and his family. But his attention was distracted when his daughters screamed bloody murder. He whipped round to face the back of the church, near where Jesus hung, to see something truly terrifying. Sneaking from the heinous gloom was an old nun. Skin wrinkled and saggy, clothing torn and shredded, but that wasn't what was scary. Her eyes were black and blood trailed from her smiling toothless mouth.

“SINNERS!” she yelled, pointing at Rick, Susan and the children.

Rick jumped and goosebumps made their way onto every inch of their body, he was truly petrified of this woman.

“May the Lord have mercy on your tainted souls!” she shrieked, gums oozing blood, and then broke out into a chilling laughter. As she chuckled hysterically her pitch went from painfully high to unbelievably low, resembling a demon. Rick couldn't help but think of exorcism and possession movies where innocent people speak low and bellow unnervingly when a demon inhabits their body. Which wasn't helping his escalating fear. The girls had begun wailing, sniffling and wheezing in horror.

“What do we do?” Susan helplessly asked, tears lining her eyes and face a deadly white tint.

For the first time in his life, he didn't know. His worst nightmare was to not be able to protect his family. Had it finally happened? How would he battle a demonic nun and famished zombies squirming from their graves?

“I....I....” Rick tried incessantly to think of anything when something grabbed his leg.

Rick jerked to a zombie gripping his ankle, looking up at him with decaying and torn flesh, jaw snapping, hungry for fresh meat. Using his other foot he stomped its head and thankfully it was crushed rather easily. This gave him hope. That was until his eyes fell upon the hoards of them now out of the dark den, all worming their way to him, and even more getting out. He guessed almost a hundred of them were snaking to him, eager to chomp on his carcass. Rick stumbled back, shoving his family to the far window where the chairs had been, only to notice a door handle glistening in the dusk. It wasn't the bathroom, but on the other side of the church, another door with a no doubt equally reasonable space, where they could possibly hide? Out of options and out of luck he hauled his family from the creepy nun and floor-bound zombies and to the door. But unlike the restroom, this door was locked.

“Damn it!” he roared.

Yet Rick continued to bash and kick and fist at the door. The wood was surprisingly sturdy given that this church was on its last legs. But within seconds the wood had splintered, leaving a large enough space for them all to squeeze through. Which they did.

The room was once upon a time an office. A mahogany desk, drawers, filing cabinets and chairs. But there was a coating of dust over everything, cobwebs clung to the corners and the wood had long lost its lustre, tarnished beyond repair.

“We need to block the hole in the door,” Rick shouted to Susan.

Just as they were about to grab a heavy-looking bookshelf Susan paused.

“Susan we need to hurry!” he ordered, confused, scared and irritated.

“Where's Sally?” she asked fearfully.

Rick's heart dropped as he quickly surveyed the room to see only one of his daughters. Without thinking, without assessing the situation, Rick leapt through the hole and went back into the church hall.

The zombies now covered every inch of the floor like a sickly pale fleshy carpet. He had to quickly step between and on them to make his way through the heap of the living dead endlessly grappling at him.

“Forget something?” the old evil nun asked, holding Sally.

Oh God! 
Rick's pulse boomed looking at the devilish nun holding his daughter and seeing her alarmingly sharp claws running along his baby girl's face.

“Get the fuck away from my daughter you bitch!” he rumbled, anger taking over his fear, the paternal instinct clouding his previous terror.

“Speak to me like that again and I'll slit her little throat and throw her in the pit,” she whispered. 
Pit? Oh, she meant the basement, with those things! No no no.

Rick played a balancing act whilst conversing with the unholy woman, crushing skulls and kicking away wriggling fingers.

“What do you want? She is an innocent little girl!” he spat.

“Perhaps, but you're sure as hell not are you?” she winked, making blood stream from the eyeball, crimson matting into thick spider-like eyelashes.

Oh no, she knows! 
Rick's face filled with nervous warmth, hands shaking.

“Y...b....Okay, don't punish her for me, please, I beg you,” Rick's tactic had gone from threatening to pleading. In the middle of his new approach to get his daughter back he heard Susan and Kirsty shriek from the office. They were screaming and asking for help. 
What do I do? 
Rick wasn't sure his heart could take anymore as his lungs were ablaze, struggling for breath, throat becoming papery and dry.

“You choose my dear, I will allow you to save this girl,” her prickly claws stroked Sally's cheek as she sobbed, face a dark red, creased and wet from tears. Rick wanted nothing more than to snatch his daughter from the psychotic nun and punch her square in the jaw, but he knew that wouldn't help anything.

“Or those in there,” the index finger of her claws flicked, pointing to the office.

She has got to be kidding. The twisted bitch.

“Are you joking? I am not choosing who dies! You're one sick fucked up bitch!” he hissed.

“CHOOSE!” she roared, with a demonic growl reverberating underneath her voice, ricocheting off the fragile walls.

“I can't choose, I will not choose,” he protested, stomping on more squishy skulls, almost falling.

“Very well,” she muttered gently, then everything went black.

***

Rick's head was pounding. He lay in bed, nauseous and aching, glazed in sweat. 
How the hell did I get out of there? Wait, where's Susan and the girls? 
Letting his pains fall to the back of his mind he tumbled from bed still wearing his winter clothes and searched the house for his family. “Susan?” he called out.

He paced through every room, turning door handles, checking under beds, opening closets, and continually yelling their names. But nothing. No answer and no one was found. 
What is going on? 
He looked at clock's to realize he couldn't tell the time anymore. It was as if he was gawking at a foreign clock using a language that meant nothing to him. 
How was this even remotely possible? Did I suffer brain damage? 
Then he heard the all too familiar sound of the front door opening. He galloped from the living room through the hall, passing by the kitchen and stopping at the front door to see his wife and two girls enter. He couldn't help but cry. Tears streaked his face as he thumped onto his knees in happiness. He didn't know how this had happened, but he didn't care, he had his family back. Rick rose and jogged to his girls, needing to hold them tight, feel them in his embrace. But the strangest thing happened, he fell through them. Not into them, but passed through them. He bumped into the fridge, discombobulated.

“Sue? What the...” he rubbed his forehead, and none of them turned to him.

“Sally? Kirsty?” he shouted. But not one of them paid attention to Rick, lying on the kitchen floor, beyond perplexed. Using the fridge handle he pulled himself up, unsure whether he should be angry or worried. 
Did he do something wrong? 
Rick followed them into the living room, repeatedly yelling their names and receiving no response. His heart thundered when they all sat down on the leather couch, dressed in black, weeping horrifically. A photo of Rick was on the brown coffee table, surrounded by flowers and candles.

The nun appeared behind Rick, reeking of blood, mould, and death, whispering into his ear. “I had to take someone's soul...” she giggled, as Rick screamed.

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Keep reading for your FREE sample from ‘Frightful Tales #2 He’s Watching Me’

Sample from Frightful Tales #2 He's Watching Me

Her legs almost buckled at the horrifying discovery that there could be an uninvited, potentially dangerous guest lurking in the castle. Laura placed a hand on her chest to steady her over-active breathing. She tried urgently to think with logic,
it could be kids?
They knocked, went unheard, got restless and broke in. Then after seeing candy a few feet into the hall, were brave enough to steal it.
Yes, that was most likely it
. Even though this was a very likely possibility, a part of her feared this explanation was too simple, too good to be true. But her mother often said 'sometimes the simplest explanation, is often the right one'. That it was just cocky, arrogant, greedy kids, and not something more insidious hiding behind the veil of reasons. She was at a crossroads, one part yearning to gallop upstairs and seek refuge in Toby's room. But another part wanting to stay, close to the door, settle, and stop being silly. Then her legs began to move.

Laura still hadn't made a firm decision as to whether to flee, or close the door and stop the bitter cold barging in. But her two pins seemed to have made that decision, giving no choice but to continue onwards and shut the wooden piece. Until she stood, now only metres from the entrance, nothing outside but deceptive darkness: elusive and mysterious, but also deadly. With the ability to cloak the evils of the night, and cloud nightmares until they sneaked up when least expected. She could see the massive field that was this castle's version of a front lawn, but calling it that would be insulting to the astronomical size. It was a mountain of green, with tall streaks of brown bark holding leaves, stabbed into its canvas. Eager to get this over with, Laura reached out, grabbed the handle and pulled, slamming it shut. This time, to prevent any further distress, she locked it. It had many locks and bolts, as if the building held all of the government’s highly classified secrets. Once all locks had been engaged with an abundance of clicks and taps, she made for the kitchen, craving a soothing mug of tea. On occasion, she did indulge in flavoured coffees and frappuccinos, but she knew that to settle her nerves a nice, milky tea was just what the doctor ordered. Perhaps they had a nice selection of herbal fruit teas? Both being doctors and expectedly health conscious, they were sure to have a premier collection of beverages hidden in a cabinet. Upon entering the vastness of the kitchen, she noticed something atop the kitchen counter: a candy bowl.

Laura questioned her memory, or lack of it.
Am I going crazy?
Had she not actually put it on the floor at all, but absentmindedly returned it to the kitchen? Or one of the kids who presumably took the candy, felt guilty. So they grabbed a handful, and then rushed it to the kitchen where they figured it would be kept. But there was something unusual about the bowl. The amount of confectionery hadn't gone down. If Laura didn't know any better she would have guessed that not a single piece had been taken. Which puts a kibosh on the candy stealing theory. But more importantly, a piece of folded paper lay atop the pile of cavity creators. Laura was intrigued. Maybe she missed it before and it was a note from Dr Anderson advising of numbers to ring in case of emergencies.
But why would he put it in a candy bowl? That was strange. Perhaps the wind sent it fluttering into the candy bowl.
She unfolded the piece of paper and read it aloud.

“How was Toby?” Laura whispered, then dropped the note back into the bowl as it rustled against the mountain of candy. Laura's neck tensed as her legs became unsteady.
Someone is watching me.
Laura's heart propelled into a rocket-ship speed.

Laura's skin prickled with goosebumps. Now there was no doubt about it, someone was watching. But these weren't casual glances, someone was monitoring every move. Laura was terrified to say the least. Someone had seen her go upstairs to check on Toby. She stared at the white sheet resting afloat the rainbow of treats as if it was about to pounce. Laura felt as though her whole head was spinning around.
They could be watching me right now.
Then from the chaos of her own unease, she thought of Toby.
TOBY!