Scares and Snares

By Clinton A. Seeber

This is some really scary stuff! Don't believe me? Huh? Huh? Huh? Well, find out for yourself at your own peril! This is my second book of short horror/weird fiction stories. Within its pages - my "Egyptos" series of short stories is continued along with some other stand alone stories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clinton A. Seeber
• Release date: Dec 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005893569

Clinton A. Seeber

I am a mystery. I am an enigma. Currently, I am like unto an evanescent wisp of vapor. What exactly am I? I have not yet become what I shall be. Only time will tell.

Book preview

Scares and Snares

by Clinton A. Seeber

Published at Smashwords by Clinton A. Seeber

Copyright 2017-2020 by Clinton A. Seeber. All Rights Reserved

Dedication and Foreword:

This small compilation of short stories is dedicated to my father - Bruce A. Seeber. He passed away on February 19, 2020 at the age of 73 years.

This book was originally supposed to contain ten stories and have a different title. But as my self-imposed deadline drew near - I realized that I was only going to have seven stories ready for it. I don’t consider this a bad thing - as I always strive for quality over quantity. Every odd numbered story (1, 3, 5 & 7) is a stand alone, original short horror story. Every even numbered story (2, 4 & 6) is a continuation of my Egyptos series of short stories with a new protagonist. This brings the total number of short stories to eight. I plan on two more stories in the series which will be published in a future book. And that’s all that I really have to say about that. Please enjoy these stories and be scared!

Table of Contents:

Ridley’s Repayment

The Venerable Bell Tower

Scree’s Last Christmas

The Ragged Doll

One Hell Of A Party

Deliha’s Demise

The Simple Story Of A Daughter Forlorn

Ridley's Repayment

I awoke to a loud crash. I instantly turned over and sat up in bed, removing my hand from my crotch. I was sweating on an unseasonably warm October night. The fact that I wore only my low-cut socks and undies (thin boxer-briefs they were) and had three box fans running and whirring with the window open meant squat (oh, for my central AC was broken). I sat there still, wide and weary-eyed, in the darkened little bedroom, listening for any further sounds. Nothing!

What the fucking hell? Had that crash that I thought I had heard all been part of some dream that I had been startled out of and could not now recall? Yes – yes indeed, that had to be it! Because all I could hear now was the whirring of the fans, the faint ringing that I could hear in my ears anytime that I listened for it and the chirruping of crickets coming from the nearby woodland past the back lawn and the wooden fence that surrounded my isolated little country homestead.

I sighed and sought to relax, tucking my knees in and folding my thick, hairy arms around them and began to gently rock myself, closing my eyes. I laugh to myself – for what have I to fear? I am not only a stout-hearted country boy, I am also a stout-bodied descendant of flaming, hot-blooded Celts. I am, after all, a six-foot-four, nearly nineteen stone, imposing individual with woodpecker hair and an alabaster face like a badger’s with bristly red hair as thick as wool covering my chin and jaws. And I had earned my massive muscles in a way far superior to steel barbells and steroids – by chopping wood with a heavy, two-handed, wooden-handled axe and toting three massive wooden logs over each of my shoulders for yards and yards at a time. I was not yet forty years of age, being a couple of years away. Even though I had not been logging as much in recent years, I had tried my hands at bear wrestling, and even more recently at entertainment style professional wrestling. Before my bicep injury a few months ago, I had been on the verge of signing with one of the largest promotions in the world. I would have relocated and became quite wealthy. But, anyhow, I digress. I will always be a logger at heart, and I’m not scared of a damn thing! I am Ridley the Red!

Bang! There it is again! Definitely for real this time. I turn my head to look at the red digits on the black clock. It is 3:15 A.M. My gosh! I remember now that today is October 31st – All Hallows Eve. This is a worldwide holiday created by my ancestors.

Anyway, I must go take a look. I sit upon the edge of the bed briefly before standing up and stretching out. I then open the drawer of the nightstand upon which the alarm clock rests. I fumble around with the various and different household objects contained within until I locate my heavy duty steel flashlight. I then turn the flashlight on by giving the front of it a little twisty turn, and a ray of bright white light shoots out before me. I turn and walk toward, and then through, the open doorway of my bedroom and out into the hallway, the soft carpet underneath my feet being exchanged for cold, hard wood.

Farts and fiddlesticks! The small door at the other end of the hallway leading down to the basement is ajar – and I had not left it open! Only one thing to do –