Tales Better Left Untold

By Colin Douglas

A young girl wants to go to sleep but can't stop staring at the monster lurking in the corner of her bedroom. Read this and more in this collection of horror stories that will grab you by the throat and demand you continue reading.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781329818941

Book preview

Tales Better Left Untold

TALES BETTER LEFT UNTOLD

BY

COLIN DOUGLAS

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

©2016 All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchases.

ISBN: 978-1-329-81894-1

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Places, likewise, are fictitious, or used in a fictitious manner.

DEDICATION

For my darling Lynnely-love, without whom I would still be lost in loneliness and would have published the term blue ray player.

The Monster In the Corner

Anne stared intensely at the thing in the corner of her bedroom, and the thing stared back at her. She could not see its eyes, of course, as it was settled deeply in the shadows, but she could see the outline of its dangling, broken jaw traced by the moonlight. The simple fact that something could have received so much violence and yet sit silently in the corner, staring at her, proved its fierceness, and Anne knew that if she looked away once—if she but blinked—she would be finished.

Of course, there was always Heaven after this. Perhaps she could look down from Heaven and see where her mother had gone. Maybe Anne would finally know why Mommy had left her three months earlier. She would see the world from her pleasant perch, and suddenly all of her questions would be answered. Wasn’t that how it worked?

But instinctively she wanted to live, and so she continued to feel her heart knocking on the inside of her chest. It would be better to be alive when she found her mother again. It would be better to face her.

Anne flinched and inhaled sharply when the light of the moon through her window briefly lit upon an eye. She did not quite see the eye, but there was definitely a quick reflection of light above and slightly left of that horrible dangling jaw.

She thought of calling for Daddy but remembered too clearly the bruise on her upper thigh where he had recently kicked her. In his current mood he would be furious with her for waking him up in the middle of the night.

If only he had allowed her a nightlight. The monsters in the shadows always shied away from the light. She would have run to the light switch immediately if not for fear of the thing catching her just before she reached it. She could imagine its breath on her, an evil grin, a raspy sort of laugh as it tore into her flesh.

She was startled by a fly that buzzed madly past her ear and then zipped off into the corner with the thing.

Then it moved. While she stared, shaking in her bed, in spite of all that was holy, it moved! Mostly, she heard it. It was the rattle of bones as it shifted slightly to the right—and a sigh; she was sure she heard it sigh, heavily. But she also saw it move and she could not help but scream.

A shriek sounded from her throat like a kettle until her father stomped up the stairs, burst through the door, and flipped on the light. (The thing instantly vaporised, leaving only a plain chair in the same corner, with Dotty seated upon it.)  Anne jumped out of bed, grabbed Dotty from the chair, and jumped back under the covers.

She squeezed the doll hard enough to suffocate it as she locked eyes with her father. There was anger in his eyes. She could see it in the way his brow scrunched and his teeth peeked only out the left side of his mouth. She could see it in his clenched fists. She could swear she felt it in the air. But mostly, she could hear it in his silence.

True rage was always silent; rage never had anything to say.

But then his brow softened a little—and his lips pressed themselves back together. He inhaled deeply, softly, meditatively. And then he spoke: What is the matter?

His voice was deep and monotone. This was strenuous emotional control.

Nothing, Anne responded, safely, but Daddy’s left eyebrow rose questioningly, doubtful. It was just…uh… she swallowed the fear that seemed to stick in her throat. I thought I saw something in the corner. It looked like a monster.

A monster, he repeated, condescendingly.

Anne responded quickly, If you could let me have the light on—or a nightlight…

You must learn to sleep with the light off, my little Raggedy Anne. The dark won’t hurt you.

In spite of his refusal, Anne calmed down somewhat. When Daddy called her Raggedy Anne it meant he wasn’t angry anymore—it meant she wasn’t doing anything too, too bad. This was his pet name for his daughter, and it meant that for now he loved her.

Okay, Daddy.

He flipped the switch and the light went off again Good-night, Raggedy.

Goodnight, Daddy.

He closed the door, and again it was dark.

And again the thing was in the corner, the moonlight outlining its wasted face and bony body. Anne heard a soft rattle as it slowly inhaled. The sharp exhale almost sounded like a growl, and Anne suddenly wished that Mommy was there. Mommy would have been happy to hold her and cuddle her and ward off the ghosts.

Mommy had truly loved her. Even after the betrayal—the leaving without a word of goodbye—and no matter what Daddy said on the subject, Anne still believed Mommy had truly loved her.

Anne slowly and cautiously, without shifting her gaze from the corner, reached toward the nightstand behind her. She felt around randomly until she touched the small rectangular picture that she always kept by her bed. She pressed it against her chest.

Though she couldn’t see it in this lack of light, she knew the picture from memory and holding it against her helped bring this happy image of her mother to mind. She held the image just behind her eyes as if it were an impenetrable wall between her and the thing in the corner.

The woman in the picture did not have the same smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks as Anne had, but she did have the same long, blond, curly hair and the same penetrating, blue eyes.

Quickly searching through the images in her mind like they were magic talismans, she settled on one of her last memories of her mother—one of Anne being held firmly in her mother’s arms while they hid in the closet. Daddy had been storming around the house and smashing things at the time, but this part was edited out of her memory, and she now heard only her mother’s comforting whispers in her ear.

It’s okay, Raggedy. I won’t make you put up with this anymore. I promise.

But, Mommy…

Shhh. It will be all right. Just remember that I love you. I will always love you.

I know, Mommy. I love you, too.

I need you to always remember that. No matter what happens. No matter how things seem. Even during times that I'm away or have to work, I will always love you, and I will always protect you.

Anne kept replaying the conversation over and over in her mind, imagining herself bundled up in her mother’s arms. This was the last time Mommy had spoken to her.

By the next day she was gone. The image broke as Anne thought of this, and the thing in the corner seemed to move again.

She breathed sharply and pressed the picture harder against her. She heard the thing in the corner rattling as if a breeze had passed through it. But she remained silent.

Finally, she saw its fingers reach up and rest on the windowsill. The moonlight illuminated them, and it was clear that they were merely bone without flesh. They began drumming rhythmically on the windowpane, as if the thing was restlessly waiting for something.

Anne screamed for the second time, tears of fright streaming down her face, and almost immediately she heard loud footsteps charging up the stairs again.

Daddy! she shouted. Please, Daddy, turn the light on.

This time, Daddy didn’t bother with the light. He forced the door open, slamming it loudly against the side wall and leaving a large dent where the knob had hit. "Now you’re going to regret this," he growled as he stepped toward the bed, one hand clenched into a tight fist and the other reaching out toward his young daughter.

But before he grabbed her by the collar of her loose nightgown, there was a rattling sound from the corner. They both turned toward it, and the thing stood up, stepping fully into the moonlight.

It was practically a skeleton, its torn and rotting skin clinging to it like plastic wrap. Its eye sockets, although empty, glinted from deep inside. Its jaw dangled more hideously than Anne had previously imagined. The left side of its head was stripped of hair and skin, revealing a skull cracked in a spider web formation of lines. Its left arm was broken almost completely above the elbow but still dangled by a thread of sinew.

With flies buzzing wildly around its head it took a step forward. It reached out with its good arm. It grasped Daddy by the throat, silencing the screech that had just begun to sound from inside him, and Anne felt wet and sticky drops pelt her face as the fingers penetrated.

Yet in spite of its violent malevolence and hideous ruin of a body, Anne could focus on only one thing—the long, blond, curly hair, so much like her own, that still hung down the right side of the thing’s skull.

GPS

With an aren’t-I-being-silly kind of smirk, Jack popped the GPS unit into place on his dashboard and flicked the on switch. Immediately the screen turned a bright blue with the Magic Moonbeam logo glowing blood red in the centre of it.

Jack pushed himself back against the driver’s seat, his jaw suddenly hanging open as if it had unhinged, and his eyes focused on the screen.

Please enter your destination, the sexy, disembodied voice requested as a full touch-screen keyboard appeared.

Jack quickly rolled down the window of his old, beat up Ford truck. Hey, Tammie, check this shit out! he yelled across the driveway.

His wife was just then stepping outside, her battered purse slung carelessly over her shoulder. She was carrying two large, awkward suitcases and had to push her lower jaw forward and blow her straight, red hair out of her face in order to see Jack. She mentally threw him her what-a-jerk expression that he would have remained oblivious to if it had jumped off her head and bitten him.

After setting down their luggage, she turned to lock the door to their rotten one-bedroom house.

Come on, already, Jack called, Get your ass over here, and see this thing!

I’m locking the door, asshole!

There’s nothing to steal, dimwit. Even if there was, it wouldn’t take an expert to break into that pit.

Tammie finished locking the door, anyway, and bent over to slip the key under the frayed doormat. Another day, Jack might have leered at her as her mini-skirt hitched up and revealed the tight ass split by her thong. This time, however, he refocused his attention on the GPS unit.

He picked up the five sheets of Google maps he’d prepared and shuffled through them for their destination. He started spelling it out for the machine while he waited for his wife; God, she took forever with everything!

Finally, as he finished typing and hit go, the door opened. Tammie pushed the passenger seat forward and shoved the suitcases roughly into the back, but Jack barely noticed.

Holy shit, it’s working, Tammie muttered as she slapped the seat back into place and slid sideways through the door. She slammed the door shut as was always necessary with the twelve-year-old pickup. Is the moon out?

As if synchronized, they leaned forward together and scanned the sky. Although the sun would still dominate for another three hours or more, the moon, faded but clearly visible, waited patiently off to the side for its time. Yup. And it’s almost full, too.

That’s just creepy. Tammie opened the glove compartment and put in the large flashlight she had brought from the house.

About as creepy as the old man who sold me this thing for five bucks.

It’s got to be a coincidence, though, right? Tammie gazed nervously at Jack, and Jack turned his icy blue eyes towards her while pushing his thinning, over-long hair away from his face.

He curved his lips into a grin and studied, for the millionth time, her sparkly green eyes. He loved those eyes. They shimmered like rare gems inside the frame of her fiery hair and above her freckled nose. Of course it’s a coincidence, you dumb slut.

Pig!

Whore.

Scum sucking bastard.

And suddenly they were kissing deeply, Tammie’s hot, wet tongue in Jack’s mouth, and Jack’s chest pressed against hers, his hands at her hips.

Then he released her, both of them smiling now. This is going to be a great trip, Jack said.

The best.

Jack faced forward and they buckled themselves in. Excitement still bubbling inside him over the fact that he had actually won a trip to a luxurious beachfront cottage, Jack drove his beat up old truck to