Macabre Sanctuary

By Joan Hall, Mae Clair, Jan Morrill and 7 more

Thrills. Chills. Shadows and superstitions. Things that go bump in the night. Macabre Sanctuary boasts suspenseful fiction designed to elicit goosebumps and raise heartrates.

 

 

Learn the lore of a haunted island.

 

Grapple with the undead while robbing graves Halloween night.

 

Endure a hazing ritual unlike any other.

 

Deal with a demon at an All Souls' Day celebration.

 

See what happens when you court death in the wild.

 

Battle zombies and cannibals in a quest to stay alive.

 

Travel back in time to witness the birth of true evil.

 

Fear prophetic nightmares made manifest.

 

Come to terms with new ethereal realities.

 

Befriend a feline to extend earthly life.

 

 

This collection from ten talented authors offers ghosts and demons, spirits and zombies, cannibals and killers… even a ferocious animal. Historical and contemporary tales of violence and fright keep readers on the edges of their seats. There’s something for everyone who loves spine-tingling, bone-chilling, blood-curdling stories. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: AIW Press
• Release date: Oct 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781944938086

Book preview

Macabre Sanctuary

An Anthology

of  Short Stories

in the Thriller/Suspense Genres

Copyright © 2016 Primacasa Press

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written consent of the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

Primacasa Press is an Imprint of

AIW Press, LLC

Lower Burrell, Pennsylvania

aiwpress.com

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental, and not intended by the author.

ISBN-13: 978-1-944938-08-6

She died in childbirth. The story goes that Andrew’s grief was so great, he neglected his duties. Every night he’d walk to the cliff beside the lighthouse. One night he threw himself over.

The Keeper’s House

by

Joan Hall

Lauren Richards breathed a sigh of relief and turned to her best friend, Hannah Wilson. Glad we’re finally on the ground. I don’t care to repeat that kind of flight anytime soon.

For real. Hannah looked out the window as the plane slowed and began taxiing to the gate. Let’s hope the rest of the weekend is better.

Lauren couldn’t remember a time when she’d been ready for a break from her students so early in the school year. When Hannah asked if she’d like to accompany her on a visit to her parents’ newly purchased bed and breakfast, Lauren jumped at the idea.

The Keeper’s House Bed and Breakfast was adjacent to a one hundred fifty year-old lighthouse. As a history teacher, Lauren looked forward to learning more about the place. But so far, the trip had been less than ideal. Inclement weather had delayed takeoff. Once they were in the air, the plane hit several areas of turbulence. What should have taken two hours at most turned into an eight-hour ordeal.

I’m glad to see the sunshine, Lauren said. It should be a nice evening.

I hope so. Dad says the weather changes quickly here. We’re still fifty miles to Rocky Point. From there it’s another seven miles to the island.

You didn’t tell me your parents moved to an island.

Hannah frowned and ran her fingers through her short blond hair. I didn’t? Yeah, the only way to reach their place is by boat.

Sounds idyllic. Like Mackinac. Lauren smiled at the thought of the island resort in Michigan’s Lake Huron.

Hannah pursed her lips together. Not exactly. Mom said they have a few neighbors, but mostly vacation homes. Pretty dead after summer. We’ll probably have the place to ourselves.

Might not be so bad. Why did they decide to buy a lighthouse?

Mom saw it as a way to preserve history. The previous owners turned the keeper’s house into a bed and breakfast. The man died last spring, and his wife didn’t want to stay any longer.

I’m glad your parents bought it. I hate to see historical sites become ruins.

I agree, Hannah said. Since Shipwreck Island is somewhat off the beaten path, this one would almost certainly have fallen into a state of disrepair.

That’s the name of the place?

It wasn’t the original name, but after so many ships ran aground there, people began calling it Shipwreck Island and the name stuck. Not sure why the lighthouse is called Phantom Cove.

Lauren frowned. It does make one wonder.

The plane pulled up to the gate, and the flight attendant announced passengers could begin to depart.

Bet it’s haunted. Hannah grinned and stood up.

I hope you’re not going to start that again. She knew all about Hannah’s penchant for digging up ghost stories. The previous summer they visited a place called Sleepy Hollow Inn. Whether it was because of the Washington Irving story, or simply an overactive imagination, Hannah had become convinced the inn was haunted.

Don’t worry, I won’t. But if you hear something go bump in the night, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

#

Phantom Cove Lighthouse sat atop a rocky cliff on the south side of Shipwreck Island. Late afternoon sun shone against the towering red and white structure. The adjacent keeper’s house was a two-story brick with a covered porch across the front. Colorful mums lined the walkway leading to the front steps.

It didn’t look like a place a ghost would inhabit—in spite of Hannah’s earlier speculation. However, it was secluded. No other houses were visible. The unpaved roads and lack of automobile traffic gave the area a sense of isolation.

Lauren stepped onto the porch and felt a pocket of cold air. She frowned and looked over her shoulder, trying to figure out the reason for the sudden change in temperature.

What’s wrong? Hannah asked.

Nothing. She took another step and felt the warmth return. It was best not to say anything to her friend. With her vivid imagination, it wouldn’t take much for her to conjure up all sorts of strange events.

But you— Hannah’s words were interrupted when her father walked up.

You girls go on inside, Ed Wilson said. I’ll bring up the rest of your luggage.

The inside of the house was warm and inviting. Built in the mid-1800s, it had withstood the test of time. Large windows on the front side afforded an unobstructed view of the cove. The period antiques and braided oval-shaped rug added to the charm.

Nancy Wilson hurried into the room and embraced her daughter. It’s so good to see you, honey.

Thanks, Mom. I’ve missed you and Dad.

Glad you could join us, Lauren.

Thanks for inviting me. I love it here already.

It is charming. Sometimes I pinch myself and wonder how we were able to purchase the place at such a bargain. Even the furniture was part of the deal. Nancy gestured toward an old-fashioned spinning wheel sitting next to the rock fireplace.

Bargain? Hannah asked.

You might say we got it for a steal. The previous owner was anxious to sell.

Why did she want to dump the place? Hannah frowned and looked around the room.

She didn’t dump it. Just didn’t want to stay here after her husband died. They didn’t care about the furniture—wanted to modernize the place. We found most of the vintage pieces stored in the basement. Can you believe it?

A small, tailless black cat scurried across the room and ran up the stairs.

When did you get a cat? Hannah asked.

Tinkerbell came with the house. She’s gentle and loving, but like most cats, is something of a roamer.

It would have to be a black cat. Hannah shook her head.

You’re too superstitious, Lauren said. She turned to Nancy. Remind me to tell you about our trip last summer.

Nancy laughed. Knowing my daughter, I can only imagine. Come along upstairs and I’ll show you to your rooms. You probably want to freshen up. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.

#

Lauren’s room was on the front side of the house. The antique poster bed and matching dresser were fine quality—not cheap replicas. In one corner of the room was an old-fashioned cradle. An old silver-plated hand-held mirror lay on the dresser.

She picked it up and looked at her reflection. Between the boat ride and the humidity, her shoulder length brown hair was a mess. There was no time to use the straightening iron. A quick brushing would have to suffice. It was times like these when she envied Hannah’s short curls.

An enticing smell came from the kitchen below. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten in several hours.

A soft knock came to her door. It’s me, Hannah said.

Come in. Lauren laid the brush down and turned around. I don’t know what your mother is cooking for dinner, but it smells wonderful.

Yeah. Hannah walked to the front window. Don’t you think all this is strange?

What?

My parents being able to buy the place so cheap. Wouldn’t that send up a red flag to you? I’ve heard of people abandoning houses because they’re inhabited by spirits.

Really, Hannah. You watch too many of those ghost-hunting shows.

Maybe so, but it’s still weird. A historical lighthouse. Antique furniture. Why sell it for next to nothing? Even the cat was part of the deal.

The woman probably couldn’t take care of the place after her husband died and wanted to sell before winter.

You could be right, but I still think there’s something odd about the whole thing.

Whatever it is, there’s no sense in us trying to figure it out. Let’s go downstairs for dinner. I’m starving.

#

The clam chowder was delicious, Lauren said as they gathered in the living room for coffee and dessert. The evening had turned chilly. Hannah’s father lit the fireplace. Tinkerbell walked into the room and curled up on the hearth.

It is cozy, but a bit too isolated for me. Hannah looked out the front window. I’m concerned about the two of you spending the winter away from civilization.

We’ll be fine, Nancy said. Other families stay on the island year round.

What happens if there’s an emergency? You can’t use the boat if the water freezes over.

There’s a small landing strip on the east side of the island. Besides, the mainland isn’t far.

But how will you communicate? I haven’t been able to get a decent cell phone signal since we arrived.

I know it’s hard for you to imagine, but even back in the dark ages we had other means of communication. Ed smiled as he said the words.

Dad! Hannah shook her head and sat down.

We have a short wave radio for emergencies. We’ll make it.

I happen to like it here, Lauren said. But I’m curious as to how Phantom Cove got its name.

Not sure. Ed sat down in an armchair and reached for his shirt pocket. Times like these I sure miss having a good smoke.

Glad you gave those things up, dear.

Ed glanced toward his wife and cleared his throat. Yes well, as I was saying, I’ve heard a couple of stories about the name. Some say it’s because of the shoal. They said the moonlight would play tricks, making sailors believe they’d reached the deeper waters of the cove. Ships would run aground and break apart.

Sure it’s not some other reason? Hannah asked. Like maybe the ghosts of some of those sailors?

Hannah, you’re too much like your grandmother. Ed got up and poked at the logs in the fireplace. You allow your imagination to run wild. I’m sure Josh Tuttle knows the answer.

Who’s he?

"A local