A bouquet of horror: 12 short stories

By L. N. Nilsen

Hi there, friend! Maybe you have a moment? Maybe you are sitting in a terminal somewhere in the world waiting to board? Maybe you just have a moment to yourself, without stress, without schedule? Look here, I have picked a bouquet for you. Isn't it beautiful? Here is a flower for forgotten forests, one for immoral time travel and another for cats of various sizes. A flower for petty circuses, another for awkward keys and many more in the bouquet. Here you go, I think you'll like it. Have a nice time!

- L. N. Nilsen

• Language: English
• Publisher: Egenutgivning L. N. Nilsen
• Release date: Oct 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9789916403846

L. N. Nilsen

Författaren L. N. Nilsen har berättat historier i många år men först nu kommit sig för att skriva ner dem.

Book preview

A bouquet of horror

A bouquet of horror

Copyright

A bouquet of horror

DOG LIFE

The dog's name was Cujo. Stan had only been eight years old when he had watched the movie based on Stephen King's novel. He saw it with his brother and his friends, even though the others did not know he was there since he had hidden behind the loose panel on the stairs. He had almost screamed in horror a few times but managed to keep quiet and remained undiscovered. He knew he would have received a beating otherwise; it was way past his bedtime and his thirteen-year-old brother Trent was supposed to watch him as his parents were away for the weekend.

Trent had loathed Stan from the beginning, nor were they real brothers; Trent's father had remarried to Stan's mother after Trent's mother died in childbirth when Trent was three years old. Stan had not yet developed into the steady muscleman he was now, as a child he had only been fat. Obesity and his eyes in different colors caused him to be teased by both his brother and classmates at school. Stan grew up in the countryside in a small rural community where only a handful of people knew about heterochromia and even fewer knew it had nothing to do with witchcraft and/or evil spirits.

Stan was regularly beaten for some mischief as a child, either by his brother or by his father. The abuse continued in school, this time by tormenting spirits in the disguise of classmates while the teachers looked the other way, his odd looking eyes made him an easy target. Once Stan reached his teens, he suddenly grew to reach an impressive 198cm of length and the baby fat was distributed more evenly over his length. He found himself becoming a firm piece of man. In high school he was still often involved in fights, although more often handing out beatings than receiving them. He still received a lot of comments regarding his eyes, however, most preferred to present their opinions in a whispering tone well outside of his hearing range.

Brother Trent had stopped growing at 177cm so all of a sudden roles were reversed. Trent had quickly compensated by using weapons, first blunt clubs, later sharp edged weapons to finally level up to firearms. He had become known as something of an expert in the field and he could also, for a reasonable fee, find weapons for each and everyone. His services were much appreciated as a certain illegal trade of valued products and services existed in the area. Trent sold weapons to both buyers and sellers. He remained neutral in price wars and territorial disputes, partly because he managed to involve Stan in his business, Stan who had developed into a very effective debt collector. He mostly just needed to show up and display himself in full length for the debtors to suddenly cough up the money they owed for various products.

Neither Trent nor Stan drank as they had seen up close what liquor could do. Their father was imprisoned after drunkenly beating Stan's mother to death, she died of her injuries after a few days of pain. Since they lived in a small community, Stan's father could easily have escaped punishment but unfortunately he had made the mistake of marrying the daughter of the area's largest producer of moonshine. Stan's grandfather used the agreement he had with the local police to get Stan's father convicted of murder. The grandfather was a bitter, old bastard whose wife had also died under mysterious circumstances, but he had adored his daughter for some unfathomable reason. Stan's father had never understood this and treated her just as he treated everyone else who was weaker; like shit. Trent had followed his father's example and in the absence of other role models, Stan did too.

Stan did well as a debt collector for his brother, Trent ran the business and told Stan exactly what he should do, how he should do it and when. Stan did not need to think much and that suited him, he was probably not that smart, he reckoned. He could not read nor write well, so he relied on his brother. Their relationship was better now that they were adults; it was more equal. As a sixteen-year-old, Stan had beaten Trent badly and that had been the turning point. Trent had made a comment about his eyes, Stan had lost his temper and turned on Trent with his fists. This happened just after Stan's father received his sentence and was taken to prison and if Stan had been able to stop and think for a while, he would have understood that he took out his anger, loss and frustrations on his brother. Trent could not defend himself against Stan's rage, he had tried in vain to protect his head from the hard punches that Stan handed out. Stan had developed a considerable strength and also had weight to put behind the punches so Trent had ended up quite badly hurt. However, this completely changed their relationship. Trent realized that he could benefit from his brother and Stan allowed his brother to take care of him. He had never been informed of his dyslexia, of why he could not read nor write; Stan thought he was stupid.

One day in October, Stan was on his way to pick up a payment from one of the neighbors. Trent had explained that this neighbor was a good business partner, so Stan should only give a reminder if he did not get the money. Stan knew what it meant, he should break down the door and thus prove to the neighbor that he was not safe, he’d better pay. Trent had carefully explained to Stan that he was only allowed to touch the door, nothing else. The neighbor organized dog fights and Trent made big business because of them. Stan understood; business was business, one must also protect possible future benefits.

Stan drove up to the neighbor’s house and got out of the car only to be met by commotion.

-Shoot that fucker! Hurry up, shoot! Do not let it get away!

Stan froze for a second before realizing that the shouting did not apply to him, something else was going on. The voices came from the backyard so Stan walked over, around the house, careful not to be hit by any stray bullets. He stopped at the corner of the house and peeked cautiously around it. He saw the neighbor and his sons chasing one of their pit bulls, the dog had come loose and tried to escape. It seemed like the dog had defended itself well since one of the sons was bleeding from a large wound on his hand. The dog was now covered in blood and sweat and was trapped in a corner. The neighbor had managed to get hold of the other end of a piece of chain that hung around the dog's neck so the dog had nowhere to go. One of the sons put the barrel of a rifle against the dog's head and pulled the trigger. Stan watched in silence as the dog collapsed.

Stan did not know if the neighbor had a sixth sense or had simply heard the car door, but all of a sudden the man turned around and looked at Stan.

-Well, it's you, he muttered quietly as he squinted at Stan.

The barrel of the rifle he kept hanging aimed at the ground was raised a little, then lowered again.

-I know why you're here. I have no money for you today, this fucking dog would have earned me everything I needed if only we could have taken part in tonight's fight. Now I have nothing and I am also one dog short. Damned bad luck that it got loose!

The neighbor stared at Stan and spat on the ground next to him. He knew Trent had told Stan not to hurt him, at least not too much.

-You know why I'm here, right?

-Yes I know. Damn unlucky that you came by tonight. Everything would have been fine if you had just stayed away until after the weekend.

Stan thought about the neighbor’s words. Was this statement proof that the neighbor was aware of the debt, hence the reminder was unnecessary? Stan sometimes enjoyed destroying things, but he also knew that there were other methods available and that each situation had its own solution. He looked around distractedly as he was trying to make a decision. His gaze fell on a cage nearby. He saw a small puppy-sized figure in it. Surprised he walked closer to get a better look. Yes, it was a Cujo dog! A puppy, but certainly a St. Bernard.

The neighbor saw his gaze. He looked at the puppy and back at Stan while getting a cunning look in his eyes.

-That is the runt of the litter, I got it from a colleague earlier, nothing to have but might do as bait dog for a round or two. He is not worth much but you can take him as down payment on the debt. Shall we say 10%?

Stan did not really know what to do. He wished he could call Trent and ask, but he knew Trent did not want to talk business over the phone and especially not in front of a customer. He studied the puppy for a while and then he decided. He could handle the matter with Trent, if required he could pay the 10 percent himself. Now he wanted the dog.

-Agreed, he said while holding out his hand to the neighbor.

They shook hands as confirmation. The neighbor opened the cage and Stan reached for the puppy. It growled a little when Stan lifted it. Stan gently took it in his arms and went back to his car and put it on the seat next to him.

-Don’t you make a mess now, he said to the softly moaning pup.

Stan was just about to start the car and drive off when he noticed that the neighbor had followed him, gesturing for Stan to lower the window. Apparently he wanted to talk. Stan did as asked.

-You know, something came to mind. I have a pregnant bitch here, she will have her litter any day now. What would your brother say about a puppy instead of money? We can train it here if he wants and then the puppy can fight for money. You both know my reputation in the industry so you are comfortable with presenting the proposal, right?

Stan nodded. He knew there was a lot of money to be made in dog fights, so he thought Trent might be interested.

-I’ll present the proposal.

Three years later, Stan was watching while the neighbor and his sons incited a pit bull on a small bait dog. Trent had approved the proposal and the dog currently in training was his, it had turned out to be a very lucrative investment. Stan had advanced in his career, partly anyway, nowadays he could add dog snatcher to his resumé. He had snatched the little dog that was used as bait in the training. Trent had concluded that Stan was the only one who could make longer trips without fear of getting caught in a society where the police functioned as they should, so Stan had driven around quite a lot in recent years. He had his dog, Cujo, with him all the time both as company and also as camouflage. No one could believe that a dog friend would be involved in dog fights. Cujo had grown quite big now, he weighed almost 100 kg. Trent used to joke that