Frightful Fables: Volume I

By D.C. Phillips

Frightful Fables: Volume I is an anthology of original horror and suspense tales with plenty of twists and turns that lurk around every corner. From a young woman who fakes her own death with disastrous results, to an elderly pet lover whose demise is avenged by a cat’s restless spirit, this collection includes something delightfully dreadful for every aficionado of the macabre. Two companion anthologies, Frightful Fables: Volume II and Frightful Fables: Teen Scream, are already in the works.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 31, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483524658

Book preview

You Can Run, But You Can’t Hide

August 10, 2:16 P.M.

Karen Ward was a bitch with a sense of entitlement and Evelyn Cane, for one, had endured enough. Never the type of person to complain, Evelyn bit her tongue and stood demurely behind the teller’s counter for going on sixteen years now. Each day, the same routine awaited. Zero sick days. No vacation time. Not that she would have taken a vacation anyway; after all, who would she have gone with? Her parents were both dead and her younger sister Tabitha…well, that was another story entirely. But everything was about to change because Evelyn had a plan.

Her head throbbing with a newfound and dizzy sense of determination, she left the bank early that afternoon. She made sure that Marlene, a teller in training and the biggest gossip anyone could find, knew that she didn’t feel well and was leaving for home. The cops would soon be investigating and Evelyn wanted to paint a clear picture for them.

She could hear the beating of her own heart, a pulsing rhythm that reverberated against the walls of the parking deck around her. The deck itself was like a concrete box, one that encased her twice a day, coming and going, for the majority of her adult life. She certainly wouldn’t miss that.

As soon as she arrived at her car, a simple four-door sedan in keeping with the other mundane aspects of her life, she checked all around her. The coast was clear. Rummaging through the contents of her pocketbook, the bulky beige one Karen mocked as a Grandma bag, Evelyn realized she had everything she would need for the next few hours: a simple yet sharp paring knife she had removed from her kitchen, a strip of gauze, a single high-heeled shoe, and a one-way bus ticket to God-knew-where. She had never done this before, living only for the moments ahead, and she enjoyed the thrill.

Evelyn knew what she had to do next, no matter how unpleasant. She braced herself and used the tip of the blade in her right hand to slice the tender skin of her left palm. Rivulets of blood rushed to the surface and gushed from the superficial gash. Evelyn quickly entered her car, head spinning. She placed crimson palm prints strategically along the dash and smeared residue across the leather front seats until the flow subsided.

After applying a makeshift tourniquet and leaving behind sufficient evidence of a struggle, including the single high heel in the floorboard, she took a moment to visualize the headlines: Beautiful Woman Abducted From Parking Deck; Police Suspect Foul Play. Her smile quickly faded. She would have to get going immediately if she wanted to cover as much ground as possible and not cause a scene. Regaining a semblance of composure, she fled from her car and left the door ajar behind her for good measure. She was finally ready to leave these awful coworkers, this awful city, and this awful life. She was finally ready for a fresh start.

August 10, 4:05 P.M.

Karen Ward was not a happy camper. She had just finished the downhill stretch of a ten-hour shift as the head teller at First Community Bank, leaving with a migraine the size of Texas. All because stupid Evelyn Cane had to leave early. That old maid had never taken a sick day in her life; why did she have to pick today, of all times? As stupid as Evelyn was, she knew it was pay day and everybody and their brother would be filing in after work. Oh, well. Karen would step outside, enjoy a nice smoke on the long walk home, and feel a hundred times better. A little nicotine and tar always seemed to do the trick.

The deck was fairly empty; many cars left mid-afternoon to beat the later rush of traffic. Her own car was in the shop, for something to do with the transmission. Now she would take the elevator to the main level and be on her merry way. Her feet ached after standing behind the counter for hours, to the point that she actually considered walking home in bare feet, and she longed to feel the plush cushion of her house shoes at the end of the day. She didn’t, however, long to feel the coldness of her empty one-bedroom apartment.

Truth be told, she was jealous of Evelyn Cane in that respect. Karen resented the fact that someone could be alone and, apparently, so…content. She often wondered how Evelyn did it, how she maintained that sugary sweet smile from customer to customer at the bank. Maybe tomorrow she would take a lunch break and ask Evelyn out to have a chat, to learn her secret. Yeah, right. Like she’d be caught dead with that prude.

Once she stepped out of the elevator and arrived at the upper level, she realized she would still have to walk the length of the deck. Her sigh of frustration was interrupted by the slamming of a door behind her, the door to the flight of stairs that ran parallel to her elevator. She wasn’t alone.

Karen shook her head and continued the trek across the expansive lot. She had always had an irrational fear of being followed, a fear that grew recently with the news of a string of brutal stalk-and-slash murders over the past couple of months. There really were some sick people out there in the world. In any event, she was a grown woman and if she knew how to do one thing, it was how to take care of herself.

Clack, clack, clack. The tips of her heels pounded concrete under a firm stride.

Tap, tap, tap. A second, hollow set of steps followed close behind. As a test, Karen slowed her pace. Clack..clack…clack. She waited.

Tap..tap…tap. As the rhythm from behind mimicked her own, a moment of dread overcame her.

Like lightning, the realization hit her that she had to get away, and she knew that she couldn’t possibly make the seventy-five or so feet to an exit without sprinting. After all, she didn’t want to make any sudden dash that might make her rising fear obvious and alert her follower. Thinking quickly, she glanced to her right and recognized the ugly rust-colored sedan that sat in between two other vehicles. It was Evelyn’s car and the driver’s side door stood open just a crack. Confused but thankful for what appeared to be a miracle, Karen made her way to the car’s side. Throwing herself inside and locking the doors immediately, she turned to face the window and gasped. The man, a gaunt figure with round, sunken eyes