Fragments

By Victoria Snelling and C. R. Smith

Eight creepy stories perfect for bedtime reading. From the perils of internet dating to ghosts on the international space station, C. R. Smith and Victoria Snelling's stories are deliciously disturbing psychological tales of horror that will linger long after you finish reading.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victoria Snelling
• Release date: Apr 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311633996

Victoria Snelling

I like cats, music and wine. I never know what to say in these things so feel free to ask questions.

Book preview

Fragments

by

C. R. Smith and Victoria Snelling

Abbey Road copyright © 2014 C. R. Smith

Imelda copyright © 2014 C. R. Smith

Innocent copyright © 2014 Victoria Snelling

Is this the first time? copyright © 2014 Victoria Snelling

Midwinter copyright © 2014 C. R. Smith

The Night Shift copyright © 2014 C. R. Smith

The Third Step copyright © 2014 Victoria Snelling

Virginia Creeper copyright © 2014 Victoria Snelling

1st edition published at DriveThruFiction.com

This edition published at Smashwords

Cover image copyright © 2014 Ian Turner

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Abbey Road

Imelda

Innocent

Is this the first time?

Midwinter

The Late Shift

The Third Step

Virginia Creeper

Abbey Road

by C. R. Smith

I have no way of confirming whether the following story is true or not. It was told to me by a woman I came to know through my job (I'm a social worker). For obvious reasons I cannot use her real name so, for the sake of the story, I will call her Jane.

Just after Christmas 2003 Jane managed to escape an abusive marriage by - literally - running out of the house. Unfortunately there was nowhere for her to go (the provisions for battered women in the UK are worse than piss-poor) and the depression she had, coupled with the associated drinking problem, resulted in her being thrown out of the few shelters we (that is, social security) could get her into. Jane said she spent the next few days on the streets; stealing when she could and selling herself when she couldn't. After a little while, desperate and deciding that suicide would be better than going back to her husband (who Jane swore would probably kill her anyway) she asked some of the other women also working as prostitutes in North London if they knew of any squats that were safe and she could sleep at. There was one, they said, in Abbey Road near Lord's Cricket Ground.

Now most people know Abbey Road for the famous music studios but there was, until very recently, a former private nurses' home. It had been abandoned for over ten years and, naturally, the destitute of London had moved in. The squat drove Westminster City Council insane as every so often the police would raid the property, chuck everyone out, and the building would be boarded up before someone came along a week later and moved back in. The homeless loved the building as it was large, was kept in good repair (to prevent the roof from collapsing), and for some reason was never torn down or redeveloped. Jane said she moved in very early August or maybe late July. In any case it was right before the massive heat wave of that summer. Right from the beginning Jane said the house had a smell to it - like bad feet or cheese. However, as desperate as she was Jane didn't complain and stayed in the east wing of the building with five other people. Thankfully, the building was big enough to give everyone there a degree of privacy and, more importantly, no one had to go near the junkies that were in the west wing and by the basement. For the next week or so, everything went relatively well although she admitted she couldn't remember much of it as she spent most of the time either drunk or working the streets. Abbey Road is in a expensive part of London and everyone in the squat knew that as long as they stayed quiet and didn't burn the place down they could probably spend a few months there before they were thrown out. However, the smell kept getting worse and everyone found that they had to keep moving further away from the junkies so they couldn't smell it.

As the temperature began to rise outside so did tempers inside and fights began to break out between the now seven squatters Jane shared with. The smell by this point was so bad people were sleeping next to each other. But still, no one wanted to go see what the cause was and it was still the best squat in the city. On top of that, as everyone could still hear the junkies moving around, everyone was scared of being stabbed with a dirty needle or being spat at.

Eventually, it's thought one of the nearby residents must have called the police about the smell because early one morning there was a raid. Jane was woken by the sound of the boards over the front door breaking. She said she didn't remember where the others were but she was certain she wasn't alone in the pitch black. Jane said she grabbed only her sleeping bag before bolting. Knowing that there was almost nowhere in the building to hide and now panicking, Jane decided to hide in the basement. Then when it was over, she planned to head back upstairs and decide whether to move on or stay once the police had gone. Of course, that plan forced her to go to the junkies' part of the house.

The first time Jane told me her story she utterly refused to go on beyond this point. I assumed that she had been raped; a sad but regular occurrence in places like Abbey Road. However, after a fair bit of coercion and - I'm ashamed to say - outright threats, Jane finally told me what happened that final day in the squat.

She said that she ran to the door of the room the junkies mainly used and found it locked. With the police bearing down upon her and not wishing to receive summary justice via a policeman's fist, she began to throw her tiny frame against the door. Again and again she hammered the wood until, finally, it buckled and she ran through. The room was empty save for a handful of filthy blankets and the odd discarded food wrapper. The smell, however, was almost unbearable and Jane said she couldn't help but throw up in the doorway. Then, hearing voices only feet from her, she managed to stagger down the stairs. She said it was utterly black and as she descended further she kept treading on small, brittle objects which she thought were needles. Finally, she reached the bottom of