Darkest Before The Dawn

By H. M. Reynolds

A sampler of four Science Fiction and Horror short stories. Please leave a review if you like it.

If you want to read more of my books, they are available elsewhere on line and include:
The Eight Hour Hell
Ecocide
The Alt-Worlders
Llyn Ar Bryn Falls
Emergency Protocol 9
Fast Stream Rehab
Probability Man

• Language: English
• Publisher: H. M. Reynolds
• Release date: Oct 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311443984

H. M. Reynolds

H M Reynolds is an accountant by day, adventurer in the unfathomable worlds of the imagination by night.He has been writing for over twenty years, although has only recently taken up writing about himself in the third person.Bristol born he has lived in the area all his life - apart from a significant stint in Cardiff - although one of his most favourite pastimes is travelling other parts of the world.He enjoys rambling, both in the literary and the cross-country sense.********If you like the sampler book I have published on Smashwords please look up my other books on AmazonAlso by H M Reynolds:Novella:The Eight Hour HellProbability ManNovels:EcocideLlyn Ar Bryn FallsThe Alt-WorldersShort Story Collections:Emergency Protocol NineFast Stream Rehab

Book preview

Darkest Before The Dawn

By H. M. Reynolds

Ω

Darkest Before The Dawn

H. M. Reynolds

Smashwords Edition

© 2014 H.M. Reynolds 2014

Also by H.M. Reynolds:

Novella:

The Eight Hour Hell

Probability Man

Novels:

Ecocide

Llyn Ar Bryn Falls

The Alt-Worlders

Short story collections:

Emergency Protocol Nine

Fast Stream Rehab

Contents:

In The Cradle Of Morpheus

Monophobia

The Lurker In The Woodland

Desolation – the Umbrekka Extinction

In The Cradle Of Morpheus:

'My Mummy always told me there were no monsters, no real ones anyway - but there are...'

Aliens (1986)

"Trudging through the blackness, feet on wet mud, feet on stone; fear, weariness; these are my experiences of the last few hours.

My name is Jack. I'm talking out loud to help me stay awake, although God knows I'm too tired to sleep.

I'm leaving the open countryside for the city, leaving the baleful moonlight for the cancer-yellow lamps of the streets. More dreams, more danger.

The solid ground beneath me is a pleasant change from the mud created by the almost perpetual rain, but this is small comfort. The next day or so, I'll be crossing through some of the most dangerous places of all, where the nightmares are most concentrated.

I don't need any actual threat to scare me; I'm on edge, sweating despite the cold, my heart beating fast, my breath shallow. My lack of sleep only makes it easier to see figures in the shadows where there are none.

I can't rest until I get to the rendezvous in the park. Not just because of the importance, but because I'm alone. That may sound crazy, but I have no choice.

If the rumours about Psychotonin are true… It's too good to begin to imagine. We've tried so many things, so many good people have died. These days it's getting hard just to stay alive. I can only dimly remember the days when we did not have to sleep with a buddy to awaken us if we nightmared, just as I can only dimly imagine a future without the nightmares, the bogeymen and the monsters.

I think I heard a noise then; I'm walking faster, wondering which is more insane, the world I live in now, or this man walking down the street talking to himself. The sound is probably just my imagination; I say ‘probably’ and here I am looking over my shoulder, but I know you start to hallucinate when you haven't slept - I've been in that state often enough

Thinking about it, it’s probably for the best I don't have a buddy. There's enough nightmares round here, even if I didn't dream one up myself.

I'm heading down into a dark alley now. My nerves scream against it, but it's the only way forward. There's a railway station next street down. A train has slewed off the tracks and crashed, the debris left there since this all began.

The darkness is thick, potent, the stuff of nightmares itself, before you even include whatsoever it might contain. There's no telling what could be waiting for me: horrors from the unconscious or even a more human assailant, desperate enough to kill me for any food that I might have or simply mad; many have gone insane from lack of sleep.

I take a quick glance at my watch, illuminating its face, not daring to take my eyes off the path ahead for more than a second. The time is 4 PM. In the old days, it would have been daylight now; all times are darkness these days.

Something squidges beneath my feet; I do not dare to imagine what: a rotten fruit, a dead rat, or something else equally mundane, rendered by my imagination into the worst forms."

This is the greatest step forward since the invention of VR, the salesman enthused over the internet, to the millions who would, at one time or another, tune in to play that