The Pendant

By Teresa van der Kraan

Brian Patricks is an unlucky kid. He wants to get the girl, to make quick money, catch the eye of his attractive new neighbour. He would do almost anything to turn his luck around. When a mysterious new shop moves into town, a sinister salesman offers to sell him a pendant that promises to make all of his dreams come true. Brian thought that he had nothing to lose.

In the tradition of 'The Monkey's Paw', the Pendant is a modern horror fable exploring that age-old adage: 'be careful what you wish for'.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Teresa van der Kraan
• Release date: May 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005512095

Teresa van der Kraan

Teresa van der Kraan was born in Australia to European parents, and has been interested in writing fiction since a very young age. She has been involved since age 14 in local writing initiatives and centres in her home town of Armidale, NSW. As of 2014, Teresa undertook university study at the University of New England (UNE), graduating in 2018 with a Bachelors Degree majoring in International History. She completed her Honours degree in 2019, on the subject of veterans in Weimar Germany, and as of 2020 has begun writing her PhD thesis on German and Austrian fascism. In her free time, Teresa is a horror movie addict, and loves to spend time with friends and her cats.

Book preview

The Pendant

An Abner Hillcrest Novella

Teresa van der Kraan

Smashwords Edition, 2021

Copyright 2011 Teresa van der Kraan

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2009

I.

"I’m so unlucky, I groaned, for what must surely have been the umpteenth time in the past two hours. I slumped hopelessly across my bed, allowing my controller to fall from my hand, clattering onto the wooden floor. I’m not gonna play again. I quit, you guys. Game over."

My two closest friends, Cole Gregg and Alice Porter, were seated upon the floor at the foot of the bed, slumping against one another for support as they quaked with laughter. My inability to triumph at even one round of Dodge Racer served as an endless source of amusement to the pair of them.

Folding my hands underneath my chin, I lay moodily upon my front on the bed, patiently waiting for my friends’ glee to subside. I was used to it, of course. I gazed drearily into my reflection in a full-length mirror positioned between my television and a rather dusty window that overlooked the neighbouring house, as well as —on the left, one story below— the outskirts of the village cemetery, its gloomy grey monuments rising beyond a scattering of pine trees.

From the mirror, a blue-eyed sixteen-year-old boy stared back at me, his blonde hair in its usual determinedly scruffy condition, a smatter of freckles across his nose. Brian Patricks. What a joke. I was not altogether unfortunate in the looks department, I assured myself reasonably; yet Alice still prefers Cole.

As if to cruelly re-enforce my observation, Alice and Cole rose simultaneously to their feet, holding hands. I averted my gaze from them, as though this display of affection was unseemly. I did not look upwards until Alice, still laughing, addressed me directly: Hey, don’t take it so hard, Brian. You’re bound to win sooner or later.

Huh? I said, gazing blankly up at her pretty face, before realising that she was, in fact, still talking about Dodge Racer. Oh, yeah. Guess I’ll win eventually. Margin of error, I suppose…

Well. We’re heading downtown now, Cole announced with his usual air of pomposity. I liked Cole a lot, but he also had a tendency to get on my nerves. He strode over to the door, towing Alice along with him, as though her hand was permanently glued to his. Care to accompany us, Brian?

I didn’t reply at once. My gaze strayed from my reflection in the mirror, to the cemetery beyond the window, and finally to the television, the screen of which had been split into independent segments for each player, my division now flashing the bright red words: You Lose!

Yeah, why not, I sighed at last. I pulled myself up from the bed, switched off the television, and snatched my jacket from a hook on the back of the door as I exited the bedroom.

We proceeded down the curving wooden staircase —Cole and Alice still glued together at the palms— and soon arrived in the spacious kitchen, where we bid a hasty farewell to my mother and father, the former cutting celery at the counter; the latter reading the newspaper at the table.

Don’t stay out too late, Brian, please, Mum advised as I left the house. Dad voiced agreement with his wife merely by grunting, his eyes not leaving the paper.

I won't! I called back.

Stepping out into the yard, I finally caught sight of something that temporarily drove Alice from my mind. Our next-door neighbour, Valerie Clarkson, was hanging out her washing in the adjacent yard. Her long black hair cascaded down her back in thick curls, a floral-print dress snugly hugging her voluptuous contours.

Hi, I called out automatically. Valerie turned, smiled politely, and waved in return, before refocusing upon the remaining articles of clothing in her laundry basket. At least she knew I existed now—though not much more than that.

Hmm. Keep dreaming, my friend, keep dreaming, muttered Cole, clapping me bracingly upon the back with the hand that was not joined to Alice.

Minutes later, as we were strolling down the cobbled lane that led into the heart of the village, Cole saw fit to inquire: And how old is that Valerie? Thirty-some?

Her birthday’s in a few days, I returned, gazing mildly up at the overcast sky, and feeling a few weak drops of rain tickle my face. But, you know, if someone’s, like, older than twenty-nine, then it’s rude to ask. I shrugged.

Alice laughed, squeezing