You're Next

By Zia Black

Horror. Hair. Haggis. Death and Deception, a 5 Short Story Collection.

The Best Day of My Life: Will be his worst. Or his last.

The Hair That Wasn't There: A young policeman misses crucial evidence at the crime scene. He must retrieve it before Inspector Black realises. Their lives depend on it.

You're Next: Before Sam marries Bobby, she'll share her darkest secret. A tale of betrayal, abuse, and survival awaits. Can he handle the truth? Can she?

One Night with Carol: Maybe Andrew shouldn't have married a convicted killer. Now she's free, he'll spend a night with her he'll never forget.

Sleep, Baby, Sleep: Naameka has finally overcome her insomnia, but now she can't stop sleeping. A monster haunts her dreams, paralysing her when she awakes. She must cure herself before she's sucked into the nightmare world forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amaria & Sariel
• Release date: Jul 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781501452710

Zia Black

As the daughter of Stephen King’s biggest fan, it felt natural when Zia Black drifted to the darkness of crime and thrillers. Since childhood, her stories have shown the world’s twisted side. Against the predictable and mundane, she loves to be shocked and be shocking. People say it’s all been done before. Zia disagrees, and she’s ready to prove it. On most days, you’ll find Zia lurking in the shadows of her mind, fighting to bring the darkness out…

Book preview

The Best Day of My Life

It didn’t rain at my funeral. Sorry. It won’t rain at my funeral.

It’ll be sunny.

The service will be brief: my favourite song, my favourite flower, and my favourite people. Start at nine o’clock and end before ten. I’ll be six feet under by eleven.

How do I know? Because I was there.

I am there.

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I woke up feeling pretty crap after the nightmare ruined my sleep. Usually an hour on the treadmill would make me feel better, but this time even my daily run didn’t help. In fact, things got worse. Now there was a sharp pain in my calf.

What the hell? I cried, rubbing my leg. Why can’t things ever go right?

My year had gone pretty badly. My ex, Claire, left me for another man. Then my best friend betrayed me. They kept the affair a secret until she got pregnant. Knowing my luck, she would’ve had twins. One for her and one for him.

Thank God I’ll never see their spawn.

Anyway, I thought maybe I’d just sprained my leg. Too impatient to wait for a doctor’s appointment - I needed help now - I decided to self-diagnose. I know, I know. Not the best idea, but the pain couldn’t be that serious...

A quick search online didn't help. There were countless medical websites suggesting so many causes. Maybe I’d over-exercised? Was it a blood clot? There’s cancer in my family! The search continued, and the pain intensified.

Damn it! I shouted, thumping the keyboard with my fist. How can I drive a limo when I can’t even walk?

I just need more rest, I thought.

After a quick call to my boss, who, as usual, was a prick, I limped back to bed. With my leg propped up on the bedpost, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

I wish I hadn’t.

––––––––

Déjà vu set in. I refused to move until the nightmare was over. I wasn’t going through it again, and nothing could force me to. I would sit at the back of church and wait. Eventually I’d wake up. Eventually.

It was easier said than done.

I blinked and suddenly found myself standing by my mother and older brothers, Fredrick and Matthew. She kept crying, No, not the baby! Fredrick wiped away her tears and dabbed her pale cheeks with a handkerchief. Fredrick was crying too. Fredrick, the toughest nut that wouldn’t crack, was in tears. The same Fredrick who helped my mother when the sperm donor left, was crying. He sat consoling Mum, his eyes staring through me at me. For once, I had the urge to protect him, but there was nothing I could do but wake up.

Poor Fredrick, I thought. Don’t worry, mate. This isn’t real. You and Mum will be all right.

I closed my eyes and willed myself to wake up.

Then we were at the graveyard. Everyone gathered behind my family, and the priest said a prayer before stepping aside. My mother placed her hands on the coffin and whispered, Goodbye before Fredrick did the same. A moment later, I watched my coffin disappear underground.

Time to wake up, I said, watching my loved ones walk away. I hope my leg feels better.

I waited. And waited. And waited.

Wake up, man, I snapped. For goodness sake, I’ll be late for the afternoon shift!

When I stopped pacing up and down, I realised the scene had changed. Doves had gathered in the trees overhead, none of them moving. Even my loved ones had turned back to stare at me, all watching in silence. The wind had died and the rising sun had frozen between morning and midday.

They can see me? I gasped. They never saw me last time I had this dream.

Everyone slowly raised their hand and pointed in my direction. The birds swooped overhead and landed on the tombstone. The wind swirled around me, forcing me closer to my grave. Then the sun blinded me, so I crouched down and hid behind my tombstone.

This didn’t happen last time, I said. I'd woken up by now!

I tried to stand, but the sun’s rays burned into my flesh. The wind bashed me back down. The birds squawked as they swooped overhead, their beaks clipping my head. Sore, bruised, and bloody, I lay on my grave and prayed to God.

If you’re listening, please help me...Please!

The sun shone brighter, the wind blew harder, and the birds closed in.

That’s your idea of help? I shouted. That’s why I’m an Atheist!

I considered making a run for it, but my limbs were aching from the abusive wind. Besides, how can you escape from the sun during the day? How can you evade the wind in an open graveyard? How can you run from winged terrors? I had to wait it out.

The birds waddled closer, their beaks at the ready. The sun rose higher until its rays reached over the tombstone and singed my feet. The wind held me down and invisible hands forced me to look at the tombstone.

Let me go, please, I begged. What do you want from me?

The force turned my head slightly to the right, where my eyes settled on my time of death: 10th October 2010 10:00PM.

The phone rang.

––––––––

I woke up.

Where are you? my boss barked. You wanna get fired?

No, sir, I said through clenched teeth.

You. Here. Thirty minutes.

But-

You. Not here. Thirty minutes. Unemployed.

See you in thirty, I said.

After he’d hung up, I slammed the phone down and threw it across the room. Excruciating pain shot through my calf and I doubled over in agony. With time ticking away, I quickly limped into the kitchen to make an ice pack.

Once I ace that job interview, I’ll tell him where to shove it!

I sat at the table and wrapped ice cubes in a kitchen towel.

Who the hell does he think he is? He doesn't own me!

I steadied my leg and prepared for pain.

He’ll regret ever treating me like sh-

A tattoo. I dropped the ice pack and leaned in closer. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. I moved my leg closer to the light and looked again.

Last night I got a friggin' tattoo, I cried. Fredrick’ll go mad when he sees this!

My phone bleeped as the clock struck three. I thought I had twenty-five minutes left. Now I know I had seven hours.

The longer I stared at the tattoo, the darker it got. First it was a faint grey, but within a minute it was charcoal black. I tried to read the cursive digits, but the tattoo was back-to-front. I limped out to the full length mirror in the corridor to read it properly.

It’s a date and time? I huffed. How boring! Matthew got a...

I leaned closer to my reflection and read the date aloud.

10/10/10 10pm?

The tombstone flashed in my memory.

I turned to the calendar on the fridge and confirmed today’s date.

It’s just a coincidence, I muttered, hobbling away to the bathroom.

I took a quick shower and put on my suit for work. The tombstone was still etched into my memory. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t block it out. I tried to stay calm, but inside my heart pounded so loud I could hear my pulse.

It’s just a stupid dream, I said. Just get to work before that bum fires you.

I grabbed my briefcase and headed for the front door. I looked back one last time before turning the door handle.

It broke off.

You’ve got be kiddin’ me! I slammed the briefcase onto the floor. Man, today just sucks!

I slotted the handle back into place and turned it, but the door stayed shut. I banged on the door, as if that’d somehow help, but, obviously, it didn’t. I shouted through the keyhole to my neighbours, but no one came out.

Marsha must be collecting the kids from school, I said. I bet Druggie Derek’s out cold after getting high on his own supply.

The windows, I thought. I've got