The Dying Light

By Matthew McCain

Horror has many faces. From the terrifying imagination of Matthew McCain comes a massive collection of shocking horror stories that will haunt you deep into the night. Laced with menace, suspense and mind bending twists and turns, The Dying Light is a force to be reckoned with.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781664138261

Matthew McCain

Matthew McCain is the author of a dozen books including The Hunting, Scribbles: A Drug Story and Just Under Nine. He lives in Hooksett, NH.

Book preview

Copyright © 2020 by Matthew McCain.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 10/22/2020

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

808186

CONTENTS

Mr. Nightmare

Murder Me

Chains

A Killers Grip

The Pullover

Hide Away

Below The Gums

Insane The Brain

The Devil in The Darkness

The Cornier

9-1-1

Claim Asylum

Broken Mirror

The Boy

The Subway Ride

Suspect Zero

Self-Inflicted Feticide

Void in The Sky

Dinner with Barbara

The Hanging

Dying Light

The Blast

Bonus

Afterword

I’d like to

dedicate this to:

Tamara Carmody

For being a light in a world of darkness

MR. NIGHTMARE

A LONG TIME AGO, but not in the too distant past, seven-year-old Mikey Trudel Jr. sat on edge in the basement of his house, playing his new video game his father had bought him on that cloudy spring day.

The video game console had been available for a number of years, but it wasn’t until the spring of 1998 that Mickey’s parents could afford spending the money on such a thing. They’d been hoping to get it for him sooner, to help take his mind off the home drama they couldn’t keep him from, but Mickey’s mom, Kristie, had always been one to look on the bright side and believed it was better late than never.

It had been a rough year for the Trudel family. It hadn’t even been six months since Kristie found out she had another miscarriage. As bad as the first was, the second was devastating since she was passed the six-month mark. She found out about the unborn baby two days before Christmas. Had the baby been born, he would’ve been named after his grandfather, George, who had died only three weeks prior.

Between the loss of the baby and her father, Kristie had been stressed to the max. Her blood pressure was skyrocketing, and the suspicions of her husband’s infidelities only made matters worse.

Why does everything have to be a big fucking deal with you? It’s only laundry! Mike Sr. shouted at her about a month after the loss of the baby.

I told you, it’s not just laundry, my work shirts were in there! Now they’re all wrinkled and probably shrunk. I told you not to put them in the drawer!

Isn’t there anything I can do, right? Mike asked, throwing his hands in the air, unaware that Mickey was listening from his bedroom door at the top of the stairs.

Apparently not! I always have to do everything myself!

The fuck you do! Mike shouted, slamming his hand on the kitchen table.

As the yelling only grew louder, Mickey shut his door with his eyes filled with tears while his heart raced after jumping from the loud bang his father’s fist made. Since he had privately joined the conversation midway through, he was under the impression that they were fighting about him. He stayed in his room that night and every night after, before eventually overcoming his fear of the basement and began spending time down there.

45312.png

The Trudel home basement was divided into two sections; one side was completely furnished with carpet, a spare bedroom, a living room, and a back door that led out to the sizable backyard and surrounding woods. The other side of the basement was the complete opposite. Exposed pipes, hard concrete floors, low lighting, and where Mickey assumed all the monsters spent their time during the day.

It was a big deal for Mickey when he first decided to start staying down there independently. The only time he would go down was with the company of his father. And he refused to go down at night.

On that spring night while playing his video game, Mickey was old enough not to go down there on his own, but still young enough to always insist on having a light on. He was nearly scarred for life one night when the power suddenly went out, and he was propelled into pitch-black darkness, with nothing but the company of some type of creature he always believed occupied the basement.

That experience had only been a few months prior, but to a seven-year-old child, a few months is another lifetime ago. Besides, as soon as he found out he was getting a video game console, any fears of being slaughtered by something horrible disintegrated into happiness and joy.

Mickey was too young to have a T.V. in his room, and his father refused to give up the massive one in the living room; the only place it could be set up was in the basement. At first, Mickey wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but when his father explained what a video game was, he was more than willing to give in to his fears and risk it.

That cloudy spring day has blossomed into a midsummer thunderstorm. Lighting jetted across the sky as the winds howled and the rain crashed into the windows of the house. Since the basement was windowless, the storm didn’t faze Mickey at all. In fact, he didn’t even know it was raining until Kristie forced him to shut the game off for the night and head to bed.

Let’s go, Mickey! I’m not gonna ask again, Kristie shouted from the top of the stairs.

Just a few more minutes, please? Mickey pleaded, knowing he was only moments away from completing another level.

I told you, not on a school night. You can play it tomorrow when you get home.

Tears formed in the corner of Mickey’s eyes. Please?

Loud footsteps approaching the staircase door sprung Mickey to his feet and rushed him over to the T.V. to shut it off.

You heard your mother! Now, shut it off! his father shouted down.

I’m coming!

Don’t use that tone with me, Mickey! I told you what would happen if you started giving me an attitude about that console, didn’t I?

Mickey started up the stairs; his head drooped down. Yes.

You don’t want me to take it away from you, do you?

No…

Then, don’t make me.

Mickey closed the door to the basement and stepped into the living room in time to see it get lit up by a flash of lightning coming in from the multiple windows that were draped in paper thing white curtains. It spooked him.

You want me to tuck you in or your mother? his father asked.

Thunder roared across the sky. You! I want you to!

Mick smiled, still amused by Mickey’s fear of storms. Alright then, let’s head up.

Like a bat out of hell, Mickey sprinted up the stairs, hoping to get to his bedroom before another bolt or crackle of thunder scared him again. Jumping up every other step, Mickey made it to the third floor long before his father did, but stopped short of getting in his bed. His heart began to thump in his chest.

Standing at his bedroom door entrance, Mickey fixed on his bed, specifically the bottom half of his bed. The small lamp beside the left part of the bed was still lit up from when he turned it on earlier in the day, but even still, it wasn’t enough for him to jump in bed by himself with confidence.

The yellowish tint the lamp gave off was enough to keep the shadows at bay but did little to the darkness that engulfed under his bed. Mickey was slowly adjusting to the darkness that surrounded him when he slept at night because he always had a nightlight on, but the darkness beneath the bed was something he struggled to get passed. The only thing that came close to it was the darkness he