Creepy Tales

By Matt Dymerski

Five longer tales designed to creep and disturb.

"It Watched Us Play" - Something has been lurking in the old neighborhood.

"A Series of Strange Occurrences" - Some buildings just shouldn't be lived in.

"The Hole" - The ultimate horror fan tells his own story.

"The Heat" - Sometimes darkness would be a welcome relief from the horror.

"The Misdial" - A strange number, an unknown caller... or is it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matt Dymerski
• Release date: Dec 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301542147

Matt Dymerski

I'm an author of horror. I write a wide range; everything from short story anthologies to full-length novels. As an avid horror fan myself, I specialize in finding new ways to disturb even the most jaded horror reader.

Book preview

Creepy Tales

Five Disturbing Stories

By Matt Dymerski

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 by Matt Dymerski

You can follow my work at MattDymerski.com,

or at my Smashwords Author Page.

Creepy Tales

Table of Contents

It Watched Us Play

A Series of Strange Occurrences

The Hole

The Heat

The Misdial

****

It Watched Us Play

Long a skeptic, I recently experienced something which has me questioning my assumptions. I really don’t know what else to do, except talk about it…

I didn’t grow up in the best area. I moved to a different part of the city during the tail end of high school, and I hadn’t thought about the people I left behind in years, so I was caught off guard by a recent message from an old buddy of mine. I ignored him the first four times he messaged me, but his requests to meet grew more urgent. Against my better judgment, I told him I’d meet him at a café in the nice part of town to hear him out.

He arrived looking every bit the low-life that I used to be - cheap but garish clothing, oversized pants, and a furtive nervousness fueled by being out of his element. He seemed agitated by something beyond the dirty looks of the area’s upscale residents. As he sat at the table with me, I was not surprised by his quiet request for help, but his tale was anything but expected.

There’s this building, man… that old dump two empty lots down from the kickyard, you remember?

I did. The ramshackle warehouse had glowered at us from a distance throughout our childhood. It was ancient, part of the town’s original history, and I remembered huge faded letters on the side that hinted at its former use as a factory.

Yes, what of it? I asked.

Well, me and Rick got into scrap metal lately -

Jeff, I can’t be involved in that kind of thing anymore. And you shouldn’t be either.

It’s not that, man. You’re made now, you got out. You’re lucky. I would never ask you back in… but it’s not that. We need your help. We go to break in to the place, see what we can grab - but we can’t get in.

You want me to help you break in? I remember asking him, frowning as he spoke his next words.

No, man, he said, glancing around in masked fear. You know us, we got skills. I’m saying we can’t get in. Rick breaks the lock off, opens the door - it’s bricked. They all are. We go to the windows, they’re barred. All of them. We figure maybe something valuable’s inside, Scotty got a damn blowtorch from the shop - these bars, they look old, but they’re not. You gotta hear me, there is no way in.

I felt a small chill descend over me as I listened to his sincere worry. He didn’t know what he was afraid of, or why, but he knew that something was severely out of place in his neighborhood - my old neighborhood.

Fine, I conceded, but with no small doubt. I’ll come take a look.

He nodded, but didn't look happy. It almost seemed as if he was hoping I’d refuse so he could just forget the whole thing…

I met him in the dim orange light of evening after changing out of my suit and dropping off my valuables at home, as I wasn’t certain the residents would recognize and remember me. Rick and Scotty stood with him at the corner, no need for concealment - our neighborhood was no place for cops.

The old crew back together, imagine that? Rick commented, but he seemed nervous.

Let’s just take a look at this thing, nothing illegal, alright? I asked.

We’re cool, he replied. You got your life, we got ours.

We traversed the old yard, and I remembered games of football and kickball in bright summer light. Not everything about growing up there had been bad… but I could already see the building in question, backlit by the fiery