Night Terrors Vol. 15: Night Terrors, #15

By Scare Street, Justin Boote, Erica Schaef and 13 more

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the scariest of them all…

An ancient South American cathedral extracts a heavy price from a visiting photojournalist. Ghost hunters stumble across a cursed field from which there is no escape. And a friendly neighbor discovers the new girl in town is more than she appears…

Peer into the depths of Scare Street's latest collection, a fun house mirror full of terror and nightmares. This spine-tingling tome is packed with fourteen tales of supernatural horror. And every page reveals a distorted reflection of your own worst fears…

Go ahead, take a look… What do you see when you look in the mirror? Is it your own face, looking back at you? Or something else… a dark doppelgänger returning your gaze?

Your evil twin leaps from the silvery glass, wrapping its clawed fingers around your throat. It wants out, into the real world. Leaving you trapped in its mirror realm—your reflection frozen in a scream for all eternity…

This volume features the following short stories:
1. Do Not Open by Justin Boote
2. The Cathedral of Smoke by Erica Schaef
3. The Last Pay Phone by Douglas Ford
4. Spinne by S. D. Campbell
5. Fields of Blood by Azzurra Nox
6. Norma's Tea Party by Derek Clendening
7. 19 Clayslaps Road by Bob Johnston
8. Of Darkness and Doughnuts by Veronica Zora Kirin
9. Dragonsbreath by Warren Benedetto
10. Dark Eyes by Michael D. Nye
11. The Ocean Above by William Read
12. Wanderola by John Gallant
13. Premature Burial by Peter Cronsberry
14. The Watcher in the Woods by Ron Ripley and Kevin Saito

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scare Street
• Release date: Jul 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201937980

Book preview

Do Not Open

By Justin Boote

By law, I am obliged to inform you of anything untoward that may have happened in the last three years, said the real estate agent. The potential buyers, Mike and Sarah, glanced at each other in surprise then also at their son, Kevin. He seemed far more interested in the video game he was playing on his console, so they let her continue.

There was an... umm... incident with the previous owners, about a year ago. Their son disappeared one day—he was six, about the same age as yours, I assume—and the police suspected the parents may have been involved. His body was—has—never been found.

A hand went instinctively to Sarah’s mouth as she gasped. Mike put an arm around her shoulder. So... what are you saying? he asked. What’s that got to do with this house?

It had taken them almost two months to find it. Mike’s transferal from one bank to another required a certain haste, so as soon as he had seen the unbelievably cheap price for this one, he had almost wept with relief. If it hadn’t been available, he might have lost the promotion he’d sought for the last five years.

Well, during the police investigation, they spoke to neighbors who said they’d heard chanting and singing coming from inside late at night and strangers coming and going, too. Apparently, they were very nice and polite neighbors but never allowed them into their home. They were quite secretive, it seemed. So, when the police came with a search warrant, they found all kinds of... weird stuff in the basement.

What kind of weird stuff? asked Mike, but he thought he could already see where this was going.

Books. Horrible books with depictions of creatures of some kind, doing things to people. The walls were decorated in strange shapes. Writing in some funny language. But the Kennedys said it had been their son doodling on the walls and the books were already there when they’d moved in. Just threw them in the basement and forgot about them. They found no evidence they’d done anything to their son, so they couldn’t charge them. But the neighbors never believed their story. The Kennedys moved out soon afterwards.

Mike looked at Sarah, who had lost a little color to her face. He’d already had to promise her that he would make a thorough search of the house as soon as they moved in, for any unwanted guests—spiders, bugs, mice, or rats. Sarah was not the type who could sit through a horror movie without screaming or cowering behind a cushion. She refused to watch the midday news because of the barrage of real-life horror stories and, in Mike’s private opinion, was far too protective of Kevin. Mike had wanted to get a puppy so that Kevin could learn responsibility. What if it attacked him when it was older, Sarah had asked. Sarah saw potential horror and disaster everywhere.

Well aware of what she was now thinking, Mike knew he’d have to choose his words carefully. So, the police never actually found evidence in the house of any wrongdoing? The boy might have been kidnapped by a stranger?

That’s the hypothesis the police are working on now, said the real estate agent.

Well, that’s it, honey. Nothing to worry about, he said and kissed his wife. We’ll take it!

The look on Sarah’s face suggested she might cry at any moment.

***

They’d agreed that Kevin and Sarah would move in with Mike on Saturday—two days after all the furniture had arrived. Her argument had been the upheaval and stress of furniture arranging. But Mike thought it was her fear of him stumbling across the books the real estate agent had mentioned or even a dead body down there in the basement—apart from rodents or some bug infestation. So, while the movers brought in and built the closets and fitted the electrical appliances, Mike decided to check the basement first. Just in case.

It was hot and stuffy down there, the air thick with the smell of mildew and dust particles that hovered in the air like distant stars. When he reached the bottom and looked around—a single grimy lightbulb hanging from the ceiling providing the only illumination—he grinned when he saw how big it was. It covered the entire length and width of the house. He imagined his pool table down here, a bar in the far corner, and a mini gym in the opposite. Mike wasn’t overweight but was conscious that sitting at a desk all day wasn’t going to help him stay that way.

But for now, he was more interested in finding anything the real estate agent said had been left behind. What he did not want was Sarah dying of fright through a vermin epidemic down here or Kevin finding the books. Fortunately, the walls had been painted white to cover the scrawls and nothing was scurrying across the floor. Everything else had been cleared out too; just a few empty shelves against the far wall and what looked like junk piled up in another corner—boxes, chairs, and old, rusty gardening tools. As he moved around, visualizing how it would look when he’d finished installing his toys, and also checking for anything suspicious, he noticed a smaller room set off from the rest of the basement. Curious, he headed over.

He tried to open the door and was a little surprised to find it was locked. He pulled his set of keys and found that none fitted. He thought briefly of forcing the door but decided against it; the movers would be finishing soon and would want paying. Instead, he’d investigate further while arranging his gym and minibar. He didn’t think either Sarah or Kevin would be coming down a lot anyway.

***

Can I go play on Dad’s pool table? asked Kevin.

Oh, I don’t know, replied Sarah. When she’d heard the real estate agent tell them someone might have been murdered in the house, she had wanted to leave immediately. The idea of living here knowing that some poor child could have lost his life had triggered emotions in her she tried her hardest not to think about. It made her uncomfortable just being in the house, unable to avoid imagining what kind of sordid activity had taken place. Had the boy died in the very room where Kevin slept? His blood on the walls and floor?

She shivered at the idea. Only last night she’d had a nightmare where she found a skeleton under Kevin’s bed. She had crawled underneath to drag it out but then it had grabbed hold of her arm, a terrible, pitiful whimpering coming from its dead mouth, then told her Kevin would be next... She had woken up screaming.

But they’d been here two weeks now and Mike had found nothing disturbing in the place, not even a dead mouse, so maybe her fears were unjustified. But she just couldn’t help herself. It was part of her makeup, imagining the worst, seeing danger everywhere. She guessed it was the sight of seeing her sister run over and killed by a car when they were little that caused such thoughts; that danger lurked in every corner, nothing and nowhere was safe. And Mike had had to bring them here, of all places.

Please? asked Kevin again, startling her from her thoughts.

Well, okay, but leave the door open and don’t touch anything else, she said, resigned.

Kevin yelped with joy and ran off to the basement.

Kevin spent little time playing. He came up shortly afterward saying he was tired. He’d seen a door in the basement open and it had smelled horrible and made him sleepy. Sarah rushed downstairs horrified, cursing herself for allowing him to play down there alone. What if this room was where the boy had been hidden? Or it was full of some toxic material like asbestos? But when she reached the basement and saw the door he’d mentioned, it was locked and no struggling on her behalf could open it.

***

Do Not Open

Mike flipped over the letter and checked for more information, an address, anything.

Nothing.

It was a simple piece of paper with nothing else to indicate exactly what they weren’t supposed to open. He’d found it in his mailbox when he arrived home from work that afternoon—not even his or Sarah’s name on the envelope. Eventually, he figured someone had just dumped it in his box instead of throwing it on the ground. He threw it away.

Kevin stood at the top of the stairs.

Hey, Kev. How about a kiss for your dad?

But Kevin remained there, looking down at his dad, expressionless and solemn.

Hey, what’s wrong, Kevin? You not well?

Kevin didn’t answer. He stood still like a statue for a few seconds, staring absently then turned and ran back to his bedroom.

Weird, thought Mike. Maybe he’s been punished for something. Which was strange. Kevin was almost the perfect kid, rarely demanding and seemed quite happy and content with his lot, unlike many other kids he’d seen at parks and stores, always wanting more, crying and screaming if their demands went unattended. If Kevin was told the latest video game would have to wait, so be it. Mike headed to the living room where Sarah was watching one of her soaps.

He sat and kissed her. What’s wrong with Kevin? When I came in, he just stood at the top of the stairs, never even smiled let alone come running to hug me. He did something wrong?

No, not at all. He went down to the basement, played pool by himself for a while, then came up and said he was tired. Wanted to sleep, so I let him. I hope he hasn’t picked up a bug or something down there. I don’t like him being in the basement. That’s where one’s supposed to store junk, not play. She smiled when she said it though. She often teased him about what he got up to alone or if maybe he had a secret lover stashed in some dark corner somewhere.

Well, I guess he’s just bored, then. Thank God school starts soon. Instead of going up to see him, Mike decided to hit the pool table himself for a short time and release some of his own built-up tension and boredom.

When he walked down to the basement, he stopped. There was a faint pungent smell wafting toward him. The air-conditioning was switched off, but even so, he always left a window open to maintain good circulation of air. What he was smelling now was as if something had died down there. But he hadn’t spotted a single bug, mouse, spider, or anything, which, in itself, he had thought rather odd. Evidently, the previous owners had had their own disliking of such creatures and had eradicated them successfully. Better for Sarah.

When he reached the bottom, he looked around, checked all the corners, under the worktable, yet the smell seemed to be emanating from behind the locked door. He tried it, pulling hard, but to no avail. A vision of some vermin cemetery came to mind—forcing the lock and hundreds of tiny skeletons falling out on top of him. He shivered at the thought then decided that this weekend, when Sarah took Kevin to the park or shopping, he would indeed get to work on it. In the meantime, a game of pool, a gin and tonic, and a session on the stationary bike would do. By the time he’d finished, the smell of his body odor would far exceed any dead mice.

The door rattled as he smashed pool balls into pockets.

***

Do NOT, under any circumstances, open the box. It is dangerous.

Mike stared at the handwritten letter once again left in the mailbox and unsigned. His original idea of someone having dumped it there to avoid littering now seemed unlikely. But what box was it talking about? He hadn’t seen or found any unopened boxes since they’d moved in. Could it have been meant for the previous owners perhaps, not knowing they’d since left? That seemed more probable, yet Mike and his family had been living there a while now and considering the history of the previous owners, any friends or family would surely know.

He thought of showing it to Sarah and asking her, but this would set her off with a thousand terrible thoughts running through her head. Instead, as before, he threw it away and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He could hear the television on in the living room, so he headed there to greet his wife. But before he reached her, he glanced to his left and saw that the basement door was open. This was odd. Yesterday, Sarah had prohibited Kevin from going down there again—at least for the time being. He had spent almost all afternoon asleep in his room, Sarah having to wake him for supper. And at supper, he had looked decidedly pale, hardly eating and saying nothing. She had wanted to take him to the doctor straight away, but Mike had insisted they wait till the morning—he was probably just tired, thoughts of his new school probably worrying him. As soon as he finished supper, Kevin had gone straight back to bed again and hadn’t stirred till this morning.

Mike flicked on the lights and stepped down into the basement. Hey, Kevin. You down there?

No one answered but he thought he heard a faint sound. Whispering perhaps or rustling. Kevin? Again, no answer. Curious, wondering if mice were indeed making a new home for themselves, he crept down the stairs trying to keep as quiet as possible. If there were mice, action would be required. He had a sudden vision of potting a ball at the pool table and dozens of mice scattering everywhere from the nice little nests they’d made in the pockets.

When he reached the bottom, he looked around. And frowned.

Kevin was sitting in front of the locked room, staring incessantly at the door. There was a strange, sly grin on his face that Mike did not like at all, as though he’d discovered something reserved exclusively for adults and thought it highly exciting. His mouth was moving slightly as though talking to himself, and Mike realized this is what he had heard—Kevin whispering.

Kevin. What are you doing? For some reason, goosebumps had broken out on Mike’s arms, his mouth was suddenly very dry.

Kevin turned abruptly to face him, startled. The smile disappeared immediately, replaced by a smirk. It was so brief that later he would be unsure if he had really seen it, but in that moment, he was quite convinced.

You shouldn’t be down here, pal. What are you looking at?

Kevin said nothing but stared at his father with what might have been contempt. He was squinting, his lips pressed tightly together, his eyebrows furrowed. Mike started to feel uneasy; he had the terrible notion that at any moment, his own son might launch himself at him like some rabid beast. He also knew that under no circumstances did he want his son to sense the unease now crawling over him like a swarm.

I asked you a question. What are you doing down here?

Nothing.

You shouldn’t be here. I thought Mommy told you it was forbidden.

Kevin shrugged, glanced back at the door, a thin smile now on his lips, then rose and ran up the stairs. When he reached the top, he turned back to look at Mike. Mike saw that look again—it was of rage, disgust. Then Kevin stuck his tongue out at him and ran off.

Mike was stunned. What the hell had happened for Kevin to suddenly start acting like that? He had never, never, been rude to his parents or others. Sometimes, he wished he would say a naughty word or something, just to see a little character in him. He didn’t want Kevin growing up to be the butt of the bullies or seen as a wimp. Mike knew far too well what that feeling was like.

He decided he was going to keep that little incident to himself. What concerned him now was why Kevin had been so fascinated with the locked room. He headed over to it again and tried the door, pulling on it with both hands. It didn’t budge. Annoyed with Kevin still, and curious as to what Kevin found so interesting about it, he decided it was time to open it once and for all. Find out what the hell was in there. He grabbed a crowbar and was just about to start prying the door when Sarah appeared at the top of the stairs.

Mike, supper’s ready. Any chance you can tear yourself away from whatever you’re doing and come and eat?

Dammit, he mumbled. The last thing he wanted now was to open the door and a potentially nasty surprise for Sarah to see. He could still visualize the rodent cemetery toppling down on him. Coming!

At the dinner table, Mike said nothing but kept casting glances Kevin’s way, unsure what to say and not wanting to provoke another tantrum from him. Sarah evidently never noticed anything strange as she babbled away about their day together and plans for the weekend. When they’d finished, Kevin said he wanted to go to his room and read, so they left him to it. It was still bugging Mike later when he went up to put Kevin to bed. He thought of mentioning it to him as he headed up to his room then stopped just outside.

It appeared that Kevin had an invisible friend. He could hear him having a conversation; two distinct voices clearly discernible. But what they were discussing froze Mike’s blood.

You have to kill him. Before he finds it and opens it.

But how?

In his sleep. It’s easy.

Then giggling started.

Shh! He’ll hear us.

When should we do it?

Tonight.

What the hell...? thought Mike. His mind was empty, failing to establish any meaningful excuse or rationale, random thoughts jumbled and flipping through his head. A movie Kevin had overheard. Some computer game he was replaying in his head that he should definitely not possess. Some TV program. But one thought did resonate within him: Open it.

He was very tempted to just walk away, pretend he hadn’t heard anything, but something told him there was more to this than just childish inventions. He burst in.

Kevin spun around, the grin on his face disappearing and replaced by a sneer.

Who were you talking to, Kevin? Answer me, now.

No one.

I heard you. What were you talking about? Before whoever opens what?

But instead of answering, Kevin remained silent, staring defiantly into his father’s eyes as before. Mike was tempted to head over to him and slap him. He had to, in fact, forcefully restrain himself from doing so but then, if he did, Sarah would want explanations. What would he tell her? As he glared back at Kevin, unsure how to proceed, he studied his son’s face carefully. There was something different about him that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. And then he saw it. Kevin had dark brown eyes. Mike could have sworn that it wasn’t the light from his bedside lamp that made them now look green.

The transformation triggered a ripple of fear to run up his spine. And the look on his face must have been noticed by Kevin for he abruptly looked away and lay down in bed, covering himself with the blanket. Mike was about to approach and check if he’d imagined it or not then thought better of it. He turned and left the room, closing the door gently. Instead of heading to bed himself, he decided he needed a stiff drink or two. His nerves were not at their best.

When he, at last, did head up to bed, the phantom conversation still troubled him. Even if Kevin had been reciting from some game or TV program, what kind of thing was that to say? Kill him? He knew that many computer games were particularly violent these days, but surely, Sarah wouldn’t allow any of those to fall into Kevin’s hands. She detested violence of any sort, said horror movies gave her endless nightmares. But besides, that wasn’t the real thing that bothered him. It was the reference to opening it. Could Kevin have found the note he’d thrown away and invented some mental game with himself and his invisible friend?

As the alcohol in his system worked its magic and induced drowsiness, he decided he’d have a little chat with Kevin tomorrow. At the least, if he had access to some graphically violent game, it would need removing if he was going to continue talking like that. Sarah would be horrified.

When he arrived home the next day, he was surprised to see Kevin was not at school. He could hear him upstairs laughing. It should have been his first day although he hadn’t been particularly excited about it. In fact, Mike had