Bedtime Stories (A Horror Short Story Collection)

By I.D. Blind and Reina Blind

Do not let the title fool you. These are not stories for kids.

A famous surgeon receives unexpected guests. A woman discovers a secret within herself. What happens when you get inside a car with a total stranger, or when you get a present you didn't ask for? And what to do when your best friend bullies you into desperation?

Some might call these tales horror, others mystery. I call them Bedtime Stories and hope you will enjoy them.

A bonus story, Dreammercialism, was first featured on my blog.

• Language: English
• Publisher: I.D. Blind
• Release date: Jan 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386284338

Book preview

Dr. Cooper

Dr. Cooper returned home. Two complicated surgeries in the last eighteen hours had completely exhausted him. He tossed his coat on the couch, turned on the TV and strode into the bathroom. Cooper sprinkled his face with cold water and stared into the mirror.

Hey, Doc, he spoke to his reflection, good job. His lips spread into a wide smirk.

No one else would master this, he thought. 

Wiping his hands with a terry towel, Cooper walked into the kitchen of his enormous mansion. Some said that doctor’s habitat was too big for a single man, but Cooper didn’t like to limit himself.

I’ve earned it with hard work, he would say whenever someone discussed the size of his house.

Cooper shuffled to the fridge after a can of cold beer. But the thing he saw near the cans made him gasp and jump back. On the third shelf, in a pool of blood, lay a pair of human kidneys.

Cooper blinked and stared back into the fridge. Nothing. Just fruits and cans of beer.

Now that’s a glitch, he mumbled, and snatching the beer, went to the living-room.

And still, how clearly Cooper saw them: the crimson organs soaked in blood. As if it wasn’t enough that he was seeing human organs in the hospital every day, now they had managed to creep into his fridge.

I need a rest, Cooper thought. Settling himself in the couch in front of the TV and sipping cold beer, he began flipping through the channels, when the hallucination returned, this time on the TV screen:

For the best kidneys ask— Cooper heard before he clicked the remote controller. His hand shook and he splashed the beer on his pants. For almost a minute Cooper was vigorously pushing the Back button, but couldn’t find the kidney commercial.

What the hell, he muttered, wiping his crotch with a napkin. His cellphone rang, but he didn’t hurry to answer.

After fifteen insistent rings, Cooper brought the phone to his ear.

Yes! Who’s this? Who? Goddammit, I’d warned you to use the other number. Yes, I will do it.

Cooper disconnected and went to bed. He had a tough job tomorrow.

The next day Dr. Cooper was as tired as he was delighted. He celebrated his victory with lobsters and black truffles, savoring them with his favorite Dom Perignon. What would he buy with so much money? He didn’t need a new house and drove one of the best cars. Sometimes he thought about retiring and spending the rest of his life somewhere on the Caribbean islands, but each new phone call delayed his plans for another month or two. The crown was heavy, but he wasn’t ready to take it off yet.

Cooper spread across his soft bed and drifted into sleep. He woke up in darkness, from a whisper nearby. Someone was gently calling his name. Cooper strained his ears. It was a low, female voice coming from one of the corners of the bedroom.

Doctor Coooper.

Cooper rose in bed, looked at his sides, but his sleepy eyes didn’t spot anyone around.

Doctor Cooopeer, came from the darkness, I’ve come to take what’s mine. Give it back to me.

Icy fingers closed around his leg, just an inch above the ankle.

With a cry of terror Cooper jumped out of bed, threw himself to the other side of the bedroom and switched on the light. He was alone. His mouth had gone dry. Cooper rushed to the first floor, turning on the lights everywhere he passed, and entered the kitchen after cold water, drank half of the bottle and emptied the rest on his head. A shiver ran down his spine. He leaned against the fridge and took long, deep breaths.

He had to gather all his strength and dare to return to his bedroom. For a very long time Cooper was sitting silently in his bed and squeezing his ankle.

It’s just an exhaustion, he calmed himself down at last and plunged into a sound sleep.

The next two days Cooper gave himself a break and spent some time in the fresh air. The rest seemed to help, the visions stopped, and soon he returned to the endless donor searches.

At the end of the week the doctor performed one more successful surgery. It wasn’t just a life he saved, but the life of a rich client, who thanked him the way Cooper loved the most. A known recluse, Cooper celebrated his victories in solitude. He couldn’t stand guests in his house. They poked their noses everywhere, asking him inappropriate questions about his antic furniture and art collection. Reclining in the bed with a tall glass and a bottle of champagne, he began musing about his future purchases. He’d been long dreaming about a white yacht crossing the seas. And he couldn’t get that Picasso canvas out of his mind. His mood was splendid, and the slow gulps of champagne were slacking his strained muscles, but later he convinced himself that he’d drunk too much, when coiling guts crawled out from under his bed, enveloped him in a tight embrace and slathered sticky blood into his skin. Their touch was cold and wet, like an ice taken out of the freezer. Wriggling out of that cold grip, Cooper threw himself out of the room, dropping the bottle on his way and breaking the glass.

Later, when he gathered the courage to go back to the bedroom, all he saw there where crumpled white sheets over the bed.

Get a grip! Cooper yelled at himself. You’re not a child. He leaned his hands against the desk. These were just hallucinations caused by booze and exhaustion. Get some sleep and all will be fine.

But that night he didn’t dare climb into his bed. He chose the couch in front of the TV, and after three hours of brainless movies, sleep overtook him.

At midnight someone walked into the living-room. The footsteps started at the doorway and paced slowly to the window. With much effort Cooper raised his sleepy eyelids. A man in a hospital clothing was standing near the window bathed in the moonlight.

This has to be a dream, Cooper thought, a dream or a vision.

But no matter how many times he pinched his own skin, he couldn’t wake up. Cooper tried to speak, to ask the stranger what the hell he was doing in his house, but the words had got stuck in his gullet.

I’ve come to take mine, the man in the hospital clothing said. You’ve taken what’s mine.

The hair on Cooper’s neck bristled. No. He shook his head. It’s a lie! He staggered to the door. Away! he yelled. Go away!

The stranger continued to stand by the window. Cooper ran out into the dark corridor and rushed upstairs. He locked himself up in his bedroom, switched on the lights and sank to his haunches between the bed and the wardrobe.

His fears dispelled with the crack of dawn, but his head was aching and all the bones in his body felt sore from sleeping on the floor. Slowly, Cooper stood up and walked into the bathroom. After lying for a while in a hot tube, he rose and shoved his head under the spray of hot water. That shower felt like blessing, cleaning his mind and sending every bad thought into the sewer.

A sudden shiver ran down his backbone, and Cooper opened his eyes. There was a naked woman in the tube with him. Her head was bowed down, dark wet hair covering her shoulders as white as the bathroom tiles. Her stomach was ripped open, her organs missing.

A cry of terror rushed out of Cooper’s throat. He tried to leap out of the tube, tripped over the edge, crashed on the floor and blacked out.

He woke up in the afternoon, with the worst possible headache, waddled to his bedroom, raced into his clothes and ran out of the house.

His patients needed him. In the hospital, Cooper put on his scrubs and was soon in the operating room. A woman was lying on the table, sleeping under anesthetic. Cooper was a professional. Once inside the operating room, he ridded his mind of all the thoughts and fears and began his work. By the doctor’s orders his assistants were passing him the scalpel, the scissors and tampons. Everything was going smoothly, until Cooper noticed that the patient’s eyelids were raised, and the immovable pupils were staring at his face behind the mask. His hand quivered, then he heard her voice:

"Doctor, you took it away