Bone and Blood

By Cassandra V. Wyatt

~~~ NIGHT TERROR ~~~
A mother awakens in the dead of night to find an uninvited visitor in her room.

~~~ WE’RE ALL INFECTED ~~~
A young girl discovers the true horror of a zombie apocalypse.

~~~ BLUE EYES ~~~
An obsession with blue eyes goes too far.

~~~ PISTOLS AND POETRY ~~~
A ravishing seductress captivates one man’s attention.

This is the place where the world shifts and reality sheds its’ skin to reveal the evil that lies hidden beneath a façade of normality.
This creepy anthology will lead you along twisted and obscure pathways filled with the ghastly and the unbelievable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandra V. Wyatt
• Release date: Jul 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005942717

Cassandra V. Wyatt

Cassandra V. Wyatt is a native New Yorker (the Bronx, born and bred), and Florida transplant. She is a mother of one and a lover of most things four-legged and furry. She lives rather quietly and simply with no exciting hobbies like parasailing or skydiving. A lifetime lover of reading and writing, she has written and self-published 14 novels and a few short stories with more on the way. Her favorite genre is horror although romance, psychological suspense and action/thriller have infiltrated her repertoire. She believes she does each very well but that’s for you to judge.

Book preview

BONE

AND

BLOOD

By Cassandra V. Wyatt

Copyright 2021 © Cassandra V. Wyatt

Smashwords Edition

Cover Image by Fred Pixlab on Unsplash

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this eBook. This ebook remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. It is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and is not to be re-sold or given away. If you enjoyed this ebook, please encourage your friends to purchase and download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

Table of Contents

Blood

Who is the Monster?

The Car

Dog

The Tunnel

The Pregnancy

Night Terror

The Oak

Blue Eyes

I Loved Them More Than Life Itself

A Vampire’s Kiss

The Imposter

We’re All Infected

The Disposition of Dead Flesh

The Cabin

The Factory

Banshee

The Quake

The Wood

Pistols and Poetry

About the Author

Other Works by Cassandra V. Wyatt

Connect with Me

A

steady

stream

of

blood

flows

from

an

open

wound.

Ragged

bone

protrudes

from

rotted

flesh.

Blood

Blood. It’s a rather fascinating thing isn’t it? I mean, it’s red, my favorite color, and it not only carries oxygen, nutrients and all other sort of goodies to hungry organs and cells but it also carries waste products away from those same cells. There are four blood types and red blood cells live and they die. It contains platelets that help clotting so you don’t bleed to death should you get cut. Without blood, we die: it is literally life.

All very fascinating, even now as the blood gushes from the massive gash in my stomach.

I’m sitting with my back against the headboard; my murderer standing over me. My focus is on the red-stained knife blade and the droplets on the tip. Every thump of my slowing heartbeat forces more blood through the opening in my stomach.

I look down.

The edges of the wound were smooth. The only thing that really made it messy was the tangle of spilled intestines that were now sitting in a clump on my lap. An ever-widening stain surrounded my body turning the once pink sheets a deep crimson. I wanted to touch my intestines to see what they felt like. I wanted to run my finger across the smooth slickness and lift them just to test the weight of them.

But I couldn’t do any of that.

The loss of blood weakened me leaving me incapable of movement. I was dizzy and could feel consciousness fading as the color of life faded from my skin. My head drooped; my chin rested on my chest. Through bleary eyes, I watched as the murderer eased the knife into my protruding entrails. Oddly, I felt no pain and idly wondered if there was really a point in stabbing an already dying man.

The shadow of Death loomed over me; he leaned over peering into my slowly closing eyes; waiting for my spirit to leave my body. I glanced down again. The wound was covered in clotted blood and the stain on the sheets had spread to form a rather appealing, abstract design.

With the last of my strength, I lifted my head and stared into the darkened hollows of his eyes as a steady flow of blood dribbled down his skeletal cheeks. He opened his mouth wide to reveal blood-speckled barracuda teeth beyond which a shadowy vortex swirled.

I felt the shredding of my spirit as it passed between those teeth and was sucked into Death’s waiting jaws.

I was granted a glimpse of my murderer as I moved from one plane to the next. He was a stranger; a man with an axe to grind and a festering hatred in his heart. He seemed almost inhuman as he stood in blood-soaked clothing still holding the knife from which my blood had dripped.

He smiled showing teeth as jagged as Death’s and twice as repugnant. He gestured to himself then pointed at me and mouthed something. He said it again until I understood:

"It’s not over."

His features crumbled as his form became no more substantial than smoke. Then he followed. Straight through Death’s jaws he came, pursuing me even as my spirit was being whisked away, pursuing me relentlessly beyond death.

Who Is The Monster?

I raced down the alley, my chest burning as my lungs struggled to draw air. Quickly glancing over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of its’ shadow as it stalked me. Running faster, my legs cramped as I pushed my body to its’ limit.

The biting cold that blanketed the city seeped into my pores freezing my insides, causing my bones to ache. I was driven by nothing less than pure, unadulterated fear and the sure knowledge that if I allowed myself to be caught, I would die.

Another quick look over my shoulder confirmed what I already knew, the thing or whatever it was, was not far behind. Previously, it followed with the furtiveness of a big cat, but now it seemed not to care that I knew of its’ presence. The sound of shuffling footsteps accompanied by toenails clicking on the ground, reached my ears. It dragged its’ long, curved claws across the brick walls further announcing its’ presence.

In my haste to escape, I ran into an old steel garbage can and tumbled headfirst to the ground. The thing took advantage of my vulnerability and sped up, hoping to overtake me as I lay helpless on the ground. I quickly scrambled to my feet just as it reached out to grab me with one grossly deformed hand.

I ran headlong down the alley mindless to the rats that scurried to get out of my way and the stench of trash that spilled out of ripped garbage bags piled nearly as high as my head. As I raced past the few homeless occupants who had taken refuge in cardboard boxes and makeshift tents, I had no concern for their safety; I knew that the thing that pursued me had no interest in them, its’ sole focus was me.

I was 7 years old the first time the thing came for me; I was in bed, sound asleep. I was dreaming of a touch against my cheek, a soft stroke actually, and I awoke. It was bent over me, its’ golden, red-tinged eyes gleaming in the darkness as it caressed my cheek. I screamed loud enough to wake the dead and jumped out of the bed, taking a moment to look at my grotesque intruder.

It wasn’t unusually tall, about 6’, but the body was gnarled and bent; with nothing that appeared normal in structure. The neck was twisted forcing the head to lean back and slightly to the right. The left shoulder dropped down as though broken and the right was hitched upward. The forearm was bent at the elbow while the hand curved stiffly downward. The torso bowed deeply to the left and there seemed to be no hips to speak of, just legs that bent backward where knees should be and feet that were incredibly oversized with toes of equal length that were spaced widely apart.

I raced to my parent’s room, flinging the door open I hurled myself across the room, all but flying through the air as I launched myself toward their bed.

Mom! Dad! Wake up!

They didn’t move so I hollered at them again.

Mom! Dad!

There was still no movement so I began to shake them as violently as my little 7 year old body would allow and still they did not awaken. I heard a sound by the door; The thing had followed me and was watching from across the room.

With no rescuers to help me and the doorway blocked, I did the only thing I could do, I ran to the window and began screaming at the top of my lungs. I awoke in a hospital, the concerned faces of doctors and nurses staring down at me; but the faces of my parents were nowhere to be seen; I was convinced the thing had gotten them. From that time on, it regularly stalked me and haunted my dreams.

Now here I was, 16 years later, running for my life down an alley that seemed to go on forever. Every corner I turned led to yet another corner. I felt like I was in a maze with no exit. There was moisture on my face and it took me a moment to realize I was crying.

I continued to run, my footsteps thudding against the concrete almost in tandem with my heart as it thudded in my chest. I began to gasp for breath and could no longer hear the thing behind me but I didn’t dare look back. Then the unthinkable happened: my muscles began to cramp. It started in my thighs and worked down to my calves. I pushed on until my muscles spasmed into hardened knots and the pain became so insufferable I toppled to the ground in a fetal ball. The pain was so intense I could only utter a silent scream.

Tears leaked from my closed lids as I tried in vain to massage the rigid knots of muscle. I could hear myself whimpering and in the midst of the fear I felt nothing but anger at my weakness. I began to drag myself toward some cardboard boxes and black plastic garbage bags hoping to seek refuge until my body was once again functioning normally.

As I cowered amidst the filth, I saw a familiar shadow appear on the ground; growing larger as it drew closer. The thing was oddly silent; there was no dragging or shuffling of feet, no scraping of nails and no rasping breath. And for some reason I found the silence of its’ approach more frightening than its’ possible intentions toward me.

Without warning, it peeked around the box and looked into my eyes. In those eyes, I saw things no one should ever see and once again, I screamed.

~~~~~

Doctor, what’s wrong with her? the nurse asked.

Maybe she’s coming face to face with the demons of her subconscious. As long as she remains semi-comatose, we may never know, the doctor responded.

It’s so sad.

The doctor looked down at his patient and sighed. Her eyes were disturbingly wide open and her open mouth formed a perfect O. He wondered what images ran through her troubled mind.

Some patients he could help; some he couldn’t. He had already come to the conclusion that this was one of the ones he couldn’t. She had been brought to him at the age of 7 when she was found, covered in blood, in a bedroom with her parents. She was