Speak Evil: Tales to Die For

By Sophie Duncan and Natasha Duncan-Drake

This Halloween, Poppy, Alison, Jack, Tymon and Coralea enter an elevator, perfect strangers going their own ways, only to find themselves stuck for the evening. To pass the time, they take prompts from an app to tell spooky stories about the evil that lurks in the shadows. Are these just stories, or is something more sinister afoot? Get ready for a collection of terrifying tales, in the style of classic horror anthology films.
If you enjoyed the classic horror anthology films of the past, you'll love this collection of short spooky stories. Buy now before the price changes and immerse yourself in the Halloween spirit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wittegen Press
• Release date: Oct 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781912583485

Sophie Duncan

Half my time I am a project manager developing IT solutions. The other half, you'll find me scribbling away at many a story that just won't leave me alone. I've been writing since I was a wee thing, and publishing since I discovered the internet in 1994 or so.So what do I write? Contemporary and urban fantasy have mainly been my playground, but I have done some real world settings as well. I do like mystery and have been reading (and watching) Agatha Christie since I was a child. I've also been known to do a bit of poetry.Style: I have been told I do angst well, so if you want your heartstrings twanged, or your tummy to tie in knots until the end, then I'm your gal. I am, however, a happy ending junkie, although I do throw a hint of realism in there sometimes as well. I like a few twists and turns on the way in some of my plots, although I have written my share of PWPs as well. I have to admit a small obsession with eyes: I believe they are the seat of beauty in a person, so I play with them in creature fic and use them for expression in others - personal hang up, sorry. Also, I have never met a cliché I didn't like and I am a firm believer that cliché is fine if you do it right.Writing is a passion and there's nothing better than writing for an audience. Any writer who says they don't care about feedback must have had an ego amputation :) If you life my scribbles, I'd be very glad to hear from you.

Book preview

Speak Evil

Tales to Die For

Sophie Duncan & Natasha Duncan-Drake

Speak Evil: Tales to Die For Copyright © 2020 by Sophie Duncan & Natasha Duncan-Drake. All Rights Reserved.

Smashwords Edition

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 permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

Cover designed by Natasha Duncan-Drake

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Sophie Duncan & Natasha Duncan-Drake

Visit our website at www.WittegenPress.com

First Edition: October 2020

Wittegen Press

ISBN-13 978-1-912583-48-5

To horror lovers everywhere – have a great Halloween!

Contents

Stuck in a Lift

A Greater Justice

Alison's Score

The Vampire

Tymon's Score

Grandma

The End

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Also By Natasha Duncan-Drake

Also By Sophie Duncan

About the Authors

Acknowledgements

Stuck in a Lift

POPPY REALLY WASN'T IN THE MOOD for a Halloween party, but she had promised Johnny that she'd be there, so, dutifully, she had spiked her hair, applied plenty of black eyeliner and lipstick and found a black dress. The witch's hat had come from Poundland. The bottle of red wine under her arm had cost only a little more.

Wishing away the headache she's had since she woke up, Poppy stepped into the lift that would take her up to Johnny's 8th floor flat. She found herself in the company of a vampire whose outfit looked as cheap as hers: ratty Dracula cloak, sticky fake blood running down his chin and he was carrying a pair of plastic bendy fangs. The young man gave Poppy a small smile of costume camaraderie, but that was it, this was, after all, a British lift.

Poppy hit her floor number and he picked a different one, so there were at least two Halloween parties happening in the building then. Silence fell as the lift riders stood as far apart as they could manage. However, they were not alone in their awkward poses for long. They had ridden up from the parking level, and the lift stopped on the ground floor. Poppy and her companion both stepped back away from the doors as they opened.

Ground floor offered much more ordinary-looking riders, two women. One was a thirty-something, Poppy guessed, in jeans, but they were expensive-looking jeans and her jacket was tweed. Her neatly cut hair was looking somewhat windblown, though, revealing the beginnings of the storm that Poppy had driven through. Her companion could not have been more different, though, older, late forties maybe, grey at the temples of her natural afro. She was hauling two shopping bags, but she held herself tall, even though she could only have been five foot-ish, that was totally covered by a black mac.

Nobody made eye contact, not even when faced with a vampire and a witch, and after the usual shuffling and button pushing, the four corners of the lift were filled. It was quite a big space as London lifts went, which was good, because on the 3rd floor, the lift stopped again and no-one was getting out, and the next rider had to be six foot 4 and broad. Tattoos and a buzz cut added to his imposing presence. He stood in the middle of their quintet, everyone looking forward, not a word being said.

That's when it happened: the doors closed, the lift began moving upward, the lights flashed and there was a jolt. For a second, Poppy's heart entered her throat, as the lights flickered and dimmed. Thankfully, they didn't go out completely, but the lift stopped.

What was that?

It was blond thirty-something who spoke, her tone expressing the worry that was creeping up on Poppy.

Give it a minute, the black lady advised smoothly, clearly with experience.

This happen a lot here?

That was not a British accent as the vampire laughed nervously and Poppy shared another, more anxious smile with him. Somewhere east of Warsaw, Poppy thought, but she did not know her accents well enough to identify where.

Not often, but enough.

Poppy took a little heart from the way the woman sounded more frustrated than concerned. However, that courage dribbled away slowly as they all stood there in complete silence for what felt like an age, not even the lift whir for company. Eventually, though, it was the big man who leant past