Horror Collection: Death In The Night

By Kenneth Guthrie

This collection contains five horror stories designed to be a little scary but mostly to thrill.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lunatic Ink Publishing
• Release date: Oct 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465797919

Kenneth Guthrie

Kenneth Guthrie is a writer of sci-fi, fantasy and crime novels.Profile image credit: Vincent Gerbouin at Pexels.com

Book preview

PRAYER TO THE DEAD

Church

The choir’s song was beautiful. It could be no better. Their success at the competition was assured.

His stool was hard and his body weary.

That’s it for today.

Sigh: Collective happiness ejected verbally.

Boys slumped to bleachers. The organist left. Practice was over.

We have to be on the bus by 10am

Everyone groaned. It was 4am by the church’s clock.

Slumping to his own bleacher he quickly fell asleep. There was a lot to do tomorrow for Father Michael.

Patterns

Blood patterned the wall in a sickeningly splatterish pattern. Entrails slid slowly to a pile on the floor. Small bare feet still jerked rhythmically. The bright lights illuminated it all.

Michael picked up the two tidily aligned shoes near the blood scrawled message.

Let me answer your prayers.

He cringed. Fearful words indeed.

Children’s faces, hidden in the darkness behind, watched wide-eyed. He turned to them.

Billy. Call the police.

Yes, father.

Click. He closed the door and stepped among them.

The rest of you go back to the chapel.

Shadowy faces spun to one another in fear.

Be assured. I will deal with this.

Calmness proceeded, even in the face of such brutality.

Little feet swished along the floor in old worn school socks. The good father stalked the hallway. He knew two things: He was afraid and also he needed to find out what was going on here.

Fields

Darkness. Footsteps running. The world a blur. Father Michael chased the shadow hidden in shadows. It held a bloody telephone receiver. The cord swayed behind it during moments of light.

The grass shot by – gray tendrils of soft moving tenderness in the night. The beast came into the light. Dark hooded and unrecognizable. This was someone unknown. It pounced the fence and ran into the darkness.

A siren sounded from down the dirty little track that ran under the light meant for walkers on their way home after their evening’s work. Michael came to a halt.

Put your hands in the air!

He complied tensely. The other man was getting away.

The one you are looking for is over there.

The spot light illuminated a bulky man with a hand gun.

Sure. Now don’t move.

The light was blinding, yet he waited – if he chased the man he would be shot. A policeman he didn’t recognize came into view.

Who are you and why are you here?

"I was chasing the man who killed two boys just now. I am Father Michael of the church just over there."

He pointed to the well lit building 400 meters away.

Father Michael. Ok, do you have any ID?

He removed his wallet irritably. The man had likely gotten away by now, but in the end the police might well be there salvation.

I see. Please come with me. We will drive you back to the church.

What about the man?

They both looked out into the darkness.

It’s not safe to chase whoever you were chasing right now. You said there were children at the church? We should see to them first.

Nodding, he got in back. That was wise.

Patrol Car

Bullets had meant nothing. Blood ran from the decapitated man’s neck down the front of the cruiser’s windscreen. The other cop struggled in the front with the dark shape as the father tried to kick his way out of the back.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Not just his heart, but the door was taking a beating. The window cracked.

Silence.

The father turned. A dark hollow of a hood greeted him. The man reached over. Click. The door