Scared: Ten Tales of Horror: Ten Tales Fantasy & Horror Stories

By Rayne Hall, Jonathan Broughton, William Meikle and 8 more

Ten stories of spine-tingling suspense, edited by Rayne Hall.

In this collection, you'll find scary stories for almost every taste, each penned by a different author with a different writing style and a different taste in horror. This allows you to explore your own preferences. Which story gives you the most delicious frights?

The authors have played with "What if" scenarios: What if the safe world we take for granted is changing and we don't know? What if a seemingly harmless object grows into a menace? What if an everyday occurrence turns into something nasty? What if a minor irritation is actually a sign that something big is underfoot? What if threats are outside our control? Picking up the phone, going to the toilet on the train or buying a birthday gift may be the start of a nightmare.

These stories don't seek to shock you with chainsaw massacres or to gross you out with mounds of gore. Rather, the authors aim to scare you in subtle ways, creating the kind of fear which creeps up on you, grabs you by the throat, and sometimes lingers long after you've finished reading.

To preserve the authors' individual voices, some of the stories are in American English, others in British.

Enjoy the goose-pimples, the clammy hands, the creeping chills, and the pounding heart. When you've finished reading, you can return to the real world and know you'll be safe. Or will you?

1.OUT OF ORDER by Karen Heard
What do you do when the lights go out and the screaming starts?

2. OUR LADY OF THE TOADS by Deborah J. Ross writing as Deborah Wheeler
The large, ugly toad perched in front of the gate was truly worthy of being a witch's familiar.

3. FAMILY HEIRLOOM by Pamela Turner
This weapon has a mind of its own.

4. RING OF STONES by Donna Johnson
Jake Barnes seeks revenge on the cursed creature living in the abandoned well.

5. DEATH COMES FOR MAGGIE MCDANIEL by Grayson Bray Morris
A bully's cruel hand grants Maggie's dearest wish.

6. CREATURES OF THE NIGHT by William Meikle
What if intense fantasies create a different reality?

7. DRUID STONES by Rayne Hall
Modern druids enact an ancient ritual, and a woman watches in secret.

8. THE LOFT by Liv Rancourt
Three women from the church choir learn that evil is everywhere.

9. LIFE IN MINIATURE by Tracie McBride
Street kid Michael thinks it's his lucky day when a do-gooder picks him up off the street.

10. YOU HAVE ONE MESSAGE by Jonathan Broughton
Press * for connection.

Some of these stories have been previously published in magazines, ezines, story collections and anthologies.
They may not be suitable for young readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rayne Hall Ltd
• Release date: Jun 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781501416941

Book preview

SCARED: TEN TALES OF HORROR

Copyright: ©2012 Rayne Hall

The individual stories are © the authors.

Cover design: Rayne Hall

Cover illustration: Stephanie Mendoza © Rayne Hall

Scimitar Press (Smashwords Edition)

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

Please respect the copyright and do not publish or distribute any of these stories without permission from their authors.

All characters are fictional and exist only in the authors' imagination. Any resemblance to people living or dead is coincidence.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

1.OUT OF ORDER by Karen Heard

What do you do when the lights go out and the screaming starts?

2. OUR LADY OF THE TOADS by Deborah J. Ross writing as Deborah Wheeler

The large, ugly toad perched in front of the gate was truly worthy of being a witch's familiar.

3. FAMILY HEIRLOOM by Pamela Turner

This weapon has a mind of its own.

4. RING OF STONES by Donna Johnson

Jake Barnes seeks revenge on the cursed creature living in the abandoned well.

5. DEATH COMES FOR MAGGIE MCDANIEL by Grayson Bray Morris

A bully's cruel hand grants Maggie's dearest wish.

6. CREATURES OF THE NIGHT by William Meikle

What if intense fantasies create a different reality?

7. DRUID STONES by Rayne Hall

Modern druids enact an ancient ritual, and a woman watches in secret.

8. THE LOFT by Liv Rancourt

Three women from the church choir learn that evil is everywhere.

9. LIFE IN MINIATURE by Tracie McBride

Street kid Michael thinks it's his lucky day when a do-gooder picks him up off the street.

10. YOU HAVE ONE MESSAGE by Jonathan Broughton

Press * for connection.

ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS

DEAR READER

MORE FICTION BY THESE AUTHORS

INTRODUCTION

Reading horror is fun. It gives us the adrenaline rush of danger without putting us at risk of harm.

From the safety of our armchairs, we can face monsters, disasters and villains, and whatever happens to the heroes, we readers know we'll come out of it alive.

We get all the thrills – the tingling spine, the crawling skin, the pounding heart – but we're in control of the experience. If we don't like a story, or if the horror becomes more than we can bear, we can simply choose a different story or close the book.

If your daily lives are dull, horror stories grant instant excitement. If mundane worries drag us down, we find distraction in the far more terrible things happening to story characters.

At the same time, horror fiction allows us to mature and grow. It explores how people feel and act under extreme pressure, and probes our own conscience: How would we respond if faced with this dilemma, this temptation, this threat? Would our moral strength and personal courage stand up to this challenge?

Horror questions our preconceptions and invites us to reassess our values. What if what we thought of as normal is the true evil? What if the evil is in those we love, or in ourselves? When the lines between good and evil blur, how do we know, and how do we choose? Reading a horror story can leave us unsettled but wiser.

Fear is personal. While almost every human is frightened of pain, illness, death, insanity and loss of control, and most fear potentially dangerous things like heights, spiders and fire, there are also individual fears shared by few others, perhaps rooted in childhood traumas or even in past lives. One of my friends trembles at the thought of wearing zip-up clothes, another is terrified of butterflies, while a third panics at the sight of a clown's painted face. If a story touches on one of your personal fears, the reading experience may shake you to the core.

The taste in horror fiction is personal, too. Some readers respond to physical pain or the intensity of violence, others to implied danger. A story you find too tame may set another person's heart racing, while a story which did not move them in the least makes you frightened to turn off the lights.

This anthology contains ten stories, each penned by a different author with a different writing style and a different taste in horror. This allows you to explore your own preferences. Which stories give you the most delicious frights?

The authors have played with What if scenarios: What if the safe world we take for granted is changing and we don't know? What if a seemingly harmless object grows into a menace? What if an everyday occurrence turns into something nasty? What if a minor irritation is actually a sign that something big is underfoot? What if threats are outside our control? Picking up the phone, going to the toilet on the train or buying a birthday gift may be the start of a nightmare.

These stories don't seek to shock you with chainsaw massacres or to gross you out with mounds of gore. Rather, the authors aim to scare you in subtle ways, creating the kind of fear which creeps up on you, grabs you by the throat, and sometimes lingers long after you've finished reading.

To preserve the authors' individual voices, some of the stories are in American English, others in British.

Enjoy the goose-pimples, the clammy hands, the creeping chills, and the pounding heart. When you've finished reading, you can return to the real world and know you'll be safe. Or will you?

Rayne Hall

OUT OF ORDER

by Karen Heard

The toilet door on the train says, 'Out of Order': there's a sign. I try the handle anyway, but the door stands firm. Probably for the best, really. I have to sit down, though, or I'll never make the journey. I find a spot between a man who smells like peanut butter and a fat sweaty woman. There's hardly any room to move my arms as I squeeze in between them, but I try to remain calm. I clench my hands into fists and dig my long nails into my palms to distract myself from the push of my bladder. The boy opposite has his legs stretched out into my space. He sways in his seat, his face an alcohol-green, though it's only seven at night. On another day I might have fancied him, but I can smell the sick on his breath from this far away.

The man next to me flicks over his newspaper and rests the read pages on my lap. The woman's jaw clicks as she chews on a McDonalds Chicken Sandwich, the mayo-smothered lettuce plops into the carton as she takes another ginormous bite. I turn on my iPod and the sounds of Kaiser Chiefs drown out the train as I close my eyes and try not to think about my bladder.

The boy sticks his legs out further and kicks me in the shin, laddering my tights. The fat woman stands up to throw her wrapper in the bin. She sits back down on my coat and pins me to the seat. I count slowly up to ten, and try to take deep breaths, but the urge to urinate overpowers my resolve.

I look back, wistfully, at the toilet door to see a man come out of the cubicle. I pull my headphones down to hear the end of a flush from within.

I get up, pull my coat free from the woman's behind, and trip over the boy’s legs as I squeeze my way past.

I change my mind when the door the man just pushed shut flaps open again and I see the confined cubicle inside. The narrow, filthy walls will be no bigger than my old wardrobe once you are locked inside: no way to get out... But then, a little girl in pink darts towards the toilet door and my body threatens me into action with the familiar swelling sensation that comes just seconds before the gush begins. I rush to get there before her and close the door in her face with a firm click. From inside, it's even smaller than it looked, and I have to squeeze around the toilet just to get the door closed. I try the lock – Fine. I take a piece of toilet paper and use it to lift the lid. I test the flush – Fine.

People say I'm anal but I never like to piss on trains. I hate the way the tall walls watch me: they seem to come in closer as I sit, unable to move until my bladder gives me back control of my body. And with these old toilets, you never know if the door is properly locked, or, conversely, if it will ever open again. Do you know what happens to your body when locked in an enclosed space for weeks...? But any port in a storm, as they say.

Halfway through, the train juts to a stop, and knocks me off the seat, but I can't stop and the last few seconds worth splash over the rim onto my trainers.

That's when the lights go out and the train fills with darkness. The train grows silent, so the sounds of my piss hitting the floor fills the train. I look through the frosted window, but there are no lights outside to help. I hit the wall where I remember the flush button to be, but it doesn't work. I quickly find the toilet roll and then smoothe down my skirt. I fumble around for the tap but the dark walls seem to push even closer around me and I know I will be crushed by panic if I don't get out now.

There's a noise outside, like someone kicking at the train door to get in. Then a smash and the cold air of outside hits me through the inch-wide gap under the toilet door.

The next sounds are confusion, frantic footsteps running through the train. There's a heavy crack as if someone has dropped a melon on the floor, followed by something sticky being slapped over and over again. Then the screams begin. Not one person's scream, but a sudden outburst from the whole train, as if everyone just witnessed an event that horrified them.

Oh no.

Oh my God.

No. Please, no!

I back away from the door.

I feel feet pound along the floor, confused screams and chaos – like everyone has decided they must get off all at once – and other strange clashes that you might hear at a particularly viscous game of rugby.

The train shakes.

I search around in the darkness for the lock and wrench it open, but then something crashes into the other side of the door. There's the same noise you get when a punch bag connects with a fist and then a hard object, like a head, smashes into the door again. I hear a loud slap against the floor. It reminds me of wet meat thrown onto a slab.

All is silent then, except for a strange gurgle coming from outside the door. A hot sensation spreads over my foot, and then the other. It's too dark to see what it is, so I bend down and put my hand to the floor. It's wet and warm around my feet, like a hot sauce. I reach my hand to my face, and ever-so-quietly give it a smell. It has no aroma but I can almost taste its vapor in the air when I breathe. A kind of iron-bitter tang, like when you bite the side of your mouth. A wave of cold nausea sweeps up my body, but I remain still and try not to retch.

I'm being punished! I push the thought away: this is no time to be irrational.

I hear the thud of footsteps, can feel them pound the floor as they tread through the quiet train: a number of them, but they walk slowly, calmly now. Some of them drag heavy items behind them as they pass, like they own large tails or something even worse, that I can't yet imagine. I see beams of light through the gap at the bottom of the door, as the invaders, whatever they are, pass by. That's when I remember I've unlocked the door.

I hold my breath and grope for the lock in the dark. I find the cold metal and start to turn the latch. I move it with painful slowness to try to minimise the grate of the metal as it scrapes into place. It clicks ever so quietly as it goes all the way in, and I let out a long, silent breath of relief.

But of course, now I'm trapped inside this tiny box. An image of the wardrobe in my old nursery flashes through my mind, like a subliminal cut. I haven't thought about it in a long time. I shake my head and try to concentrate. It must be the dark that has set off the memory, that's all.

The beings walk up and down the train corridor. Each time they pass by my door, I hold my breath and try not to move.

I hear one set of footsteps approach slower than the rest: the tread of their owner's walk is heavier than the others. They pass my door slowly. I made no noise that I am aware of, but a little further on the footsteps stop, shuffle slightly, and come back towards me. Light floods into the cubicle from under the gap in the door, as the creature stops on