In Tooth and Claw: Tales of Horror and The Supernatural

By Dan Soule

If dreams come true, then so do nightmares. Especially when demons hide - and devour - in plain sight, or the wrong psychopath is recruited for their dream job. When a telephone rings for a forgotten boy in an old red telephone box, or when the sinister origin of a curse is locked within a children's nursery rhyme, then the horror will follow you darkly into your dreams. And it will still be there when you wake. 

 

Click the buy button and join the growing zombie horde of readers spellbound by horror author Dan Soule’s storytelling. Let the eight stories fester in your putrefying claw as they worm into your mind. 

 

Praise for the author:

"Dan Soule is a cinematic writer - a master at focusing the reader's attention on the seemingly mundane details of a setting as he steadily builds the mood of his narrative from a whisper of uneasiness to a crescendo of full-blown cosmic horror" - Paul Guernsey, Editor & Publisher of The Ghost Story.

 

“Dan Soule crafts characters that feel so authentic, so real, they become part of you. When he puts them through the ringer, you’re not just scared for them, you’re scared for yourself. His stories aren’t just guaranteed to scare you, they’re guaranteed to devastate you.” 

Caitlin Marceau, Editor & Publisher, Sanitarium Magazine.

 

"A Dan Soule story is a treat, which makes this collection a feast. He knows how to grab you from the beginning, keep you guessing through a tight and fast-paced narrative, then give you the ending you need but maybe didn't want. Dark, compelling, and engaging throughout, you won't want to miss these excellent tales of horror."

Joel Caris, Editor & Publisher, Into the Ruins.

Click the buy button if you enjoy short stories by the likes of Dean Koontz, Stephen King and Ray Bradbury. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rotten Row
• Release date: Aug 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9781688204898

Book preview

Dad

Introduction

Dear reader, I hope you are well and welcome to In Tooth and Claw. I love short stories and I hope you do too. They have a long tradition in horror. Ray Bradbury, Clive Barker and, of course, Stephen King are all brilliant exponents of the form. Heck, even Frankenstein came out of a short story competition on the shores of a lake outside Geneva, probably involving a lot of laudanum and absinth. In a roundabout way, Dracula is also said to have stemmed from a story written at that wild literary party, later influencing Mr Stoker.

This expansion of an idea speaks to the duality of short stories. They are self-contained pieces, something more than mere chapters discarded on the cutting room floor, the novel’s rejects. Although, they do sometimes come from there. They offer a kind of intense reading pleasure different from the slow burn of the novel. A short story doesn’t have the time or space to build slowly. It must do everything, build character, tone, world build, move the plot on, and quickly. They must rip you out of your everyday life, or seamlessly slip you between realities with a quickness of hand and leave you, if not satisfied then, moved, affected in some way. This is why, there is the other part of that duality. While self-contained, a short story should hint at greater worlds, and in that they can be a tempting, dangerous thing: glistening, dark pools, whose surfaces are so inviting, but whose depths might swallow up your imagination, leaving only a ripple spreading out on the membrane of perception, as the full moon rises.

But I digress. Let us return to more practical matters.

All the stories herein have been previously published in various magazines, both print and online. Four of them – ‘Plight of the Valkyrie’, ‘The Breed’, ‘To Kill a Quisquilia’ and ‘The Breed: Last Watch’ – appeared in the sadly now defunct Devolution Z horror magazine, which for a couple of years put out a monthly offering. ‘The Switch’ was published by Storgy.com, who at the time I knew very little about other than their effervescent online literary magazine. I’ve since become closely involved with Storgy. If you haven’t checked it out, you should. It manages to be both prolific and high quality. It’s also free. ‘Witchopper’ is the longest story, technically a novelette, and featured as a serial on Storgy in the run up to Halloween a couple of years ago. It started out life as a very different story about a possessed orange typewriter that killed its owner through obsessive typing. Yeah, I know it sounds like a dumb idea, and it was. But there was a story within that story, which eventually became Witchopper. There was always a lot to that idea, and as I write this there are some 55,000 words of a novel by the same name sitting in a Scrivener file waiting to be finished soon. ‘Only Some Things’ is short and sweet and came out of a walk around the lake (no laudanum was involved, promise) at Stirling University, while I was working there one Spring. I wrote the draft that evening, and somewhat like the campus, the story is, I think, a little beautiful but isolating. ‘The Lostling’ is of a similar ilk and came runner up in GhostStory.com’s Turn of the Screw flash fiction competition. It even paid me quite well, a $100 no less. A little more and I’ll be able to buy that mansion in Castlerock, Maine.

I hope you enjoy the collection, and if you do please know there is another free anthology, Night Terrors, available for free on my website at www.dansoule.com for all those who sign up for my Rotten Row Reader’s Club. Basically, it’s a monthly newsletter filled with information on what I’m up to, tips on where to get free stories, and of course advanced information on my forthcoming books.

1

Plight of the Valkyrie

Henry Mortimer wanted to die but couldn’t. He just lay there all day in a hospital bed waiting. The doctors and nurses passed him by. They didn’t notice him, there was no special reason they should. Another old man on a geriatric ward, small and unassuming, still dressed in cardigan and cords, brown leather shoes popped up on the neatly turned down bed.

The night shift would be on soon and he was sure the right someone would be along sooner rather than later. He could feel it wouldn’t be long now. Besides, Ethel in bed four didn’t have long left; they’d be giving her all the attention she needed. Well nearly all. Some things they couldn’t do, and they knew it. It warmed his heart, after all this time, that they still put all that effort into making her comfortable. Henry chuckled at the euphemism. Nobody heard him.

Charlie in the next bed was due to go soon too, but that one would catch most of them by surprise.

Charlie coughed, introducing himself. Waiting room for God, this.

Henry smiled. Yes, I suppose it is, in a way.

Charlie Crocker, like in the movie, pleased to meet you.

Henry Mortimer, he said offering a hand over the gap between them.

Bloody hell, your hands are freezing, mate, said Charlie. They need to get you a blanket.

I’m alright.

Here comes the night shift, Charlie gravelled, nodding to the administrative station at the end of the Victorian ward. I look forward to the nights.

Why is that? asked Henry.

Look, that one: Nurse Valerie. Charlie cocked his head, gesturing to a middle aged nurse in scrubs, reading over charts. She wasn’t pretty, nor was she ugly; she was quite unremarkable in appearance. Heads never turned in a crowd to look at her, even when she was young, and the truth of it was that this was just as she wanted it, no unnecessary attention.

You like her? asked Henry, knowing the answer.

Lovely bum, said Charlie. What you in for, mate?

Me? Oh, tiredness, I suppose, extreme tiredness.

I shouldn’t even be here, wheezed Charlie.

Is that so?

No room for me down in oncology. Lung cancer, you see. But as I’m an old bugger and I am going to croak it soon enough. I guess they thought they’d give me a trial run in the departures lounge, explained Charlie. So what do you do?

Do?

Yeah, do, for a job, or what did you do before? I was a cabbie. Forty-five years driving people around. I’ve got some stories I can tell you

I was a doctor a long time ago, a surgeon actually, said Henry, but then I changed professions.

What to?

Pathology, I suppose, said Henry, I…

Good evening, gentlemen, interrupted Nurse Valerie Curry looking down at a chart.

Evenin’, Nurse Curry, said Charlie, like a school boy at registration.

I’ll get you your meds, Charlie. And who do we have here? Val flicked the page back and forth looking for a name to go with Henry’s bed.

Henry, Henry Mortimer, he said.

You’re not on the chart, replied Val still scanning the page.

Are you sure, dear? I was sent up this morning. Would you check again? asked Henry.

Nurse Curry flicked the page once more, tracing her finger down the list of names, and as if by magic, Ah, there you are. I don’t know how I didn’t see that, Mr. Mortimer. I’ll get you a gown. Hey, you cheeky sod, Val broke off, turning to Charlie who had just pinched her bum. Charlie Crocker, you keep your hands to yourself, she said scolded lightly, tucking the old man in tightly. Charlie grinned innocently as she left to finish her rounds.

Alarms started to bleep at bed four. Val and the junior doctor on duty strolled over to Ethel’s bed. There was no need to run. The end was expected, and she had a ‘Do Not Resuscitate’ order. They checked the readings, pushed some meds and made a note on her cart. Val squeezed her hand and they left for nature to take its course.

God speed, croaked Charlie. Hey, where are you going? he whispered.

Now in his gown, Henry had hopped out of bed and padded over to Ethel. Only Charlie noticed him, looking around as though on watch for his truanting classmate. Henry lent down to Ethel, taking her hand. The old woman opened her eyes, and Henry saw her face smiling up at him, as if he were an old friend. Henry patted her hand and she closed her eyes. A flat beep rang quietly, followed by the shuffling of scrubs as the young doctor and Nurse Curry came back down the ward.

Mr. Mortimer, you shouldn’t be out of bed, said Val.

My apologies. I didn’t want her to be alone at the end, explained Henry, already walking back to his bed.

The young doctor appeared too busy turning off machines and filling out the necessary paperwork to notice Henry. Nurse Curry came over to the two old men when they had finished with Ethel. Now you two get some rest, she said pulling out a syringe from the pocket in her scrubs and perching on Charlie’s bed.

The young doctor walked back down the ward, head in a chart.

It’s usually tablets I get, said Charlie.

This is better. Won’t hurt a bit, said Val finding a vein with the skill of an old pro. "It’ll help you sleep as well. There, all done. I still can’t find any records for you

Reviews for In Tooth and Claw

[becky weippert · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

One of my favorite authors. I really loved this book!