The Uncanny and the Dead

By Ezra Arndt, Allie Pino, C.M. Rosens and 5 more

SPOOKY BY ASSOCIATION presents a horror anthology of mortality, memory and transformation, featuring tales of tormented souls, eldritch horrors and the unquiet dead. The stories range from eerie and unsettling to lighter paranormal with a noir edge, from psychological horror to body horror, written in American and British English.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Spooky By Association
• Release date: Jan 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201345211

Book preview

THE UNCANNY AND THE DEAD

A SPOOKY BY ASSOCIATION ANTHOLOGY

EDITED BY EZRA ARNDT

© All Rights Reserved 2022

Copyedits by C. K. Knight

Cover Design by Ezra Arndt

Graphics: Canva CC free for Commercial Use, designed by C. M. Rosens

A picture containing arrow Description automatically generated

CWs: abuse (physical), suicide/death by drowning, murder, and blood.

American English

On Reflection by Michelle Tang

I’ve never been the type to believe in ghosts. I’m a good Christian man, which means the only spirit I know belongs in the Holy Trinity. Now Tiff, on the other hand, she bought into all that tripe, but I hate talking about that no-good, fickle—

The room in the cruise ship. That awful cabin. Someone had decorated the door with a big old congratulatory print-out, two white balloons taped up on either side. Guess they didn’t get the memo that my honeymoon had turned into a oney-moon. Get it? Because I’m single? Not by choice, no, but it’s never Tiffany Schmidt’s fault, is it?

Cabin 7402. The moment I stepped into that room, I knew I wasn’t alone. That’s because Ricardo, the steward, was still in there. I kid, I kid. My mama always told me, Jimmy, what you lack in smarts you make up for with your funny bone. I sure miss my mama. Daddy died when I was just a kid, so we only had each other. When I got into my cabin and got a whiff, I thought of her. She used to wear this scent, you see, clean linen and lavender instead of that chemical lemon disinfectant they always use in cruise ships. Mama’s perfume tickled my nose whenever I smelt it, but it made the middle of my chest feel warm and quiet-like. 

I slid open the balcony door and stepped into the moist Florida heat. I was looking out the balcony at the pier and the beach, thinking of my mother, and when I turned around there was a figure reflected in the mirror. It was just the blur of a white dress, there and gone so fast I couldn’t pick out any details, but I was sure of what I saw. 

So I saw the flash of white and I told myself that I must be tired, I’d been through a lot, it was a trick of the light, all those clichés, but then I started thinking. Lots of old, sick people like cruises. It was a matter of statistics that some of them might die in these here rooms. I was reminding myself I didn’t believe in ghosts when the bathroom door just...swung open. Now the ship hadn’t begun to move yet; it was still as anything. Matter of fact, my welcome glass of bubbly didn’t even have a ripple, that’s how still the ship was, but a ripple of something sure moved through me. Ghosts don’t exist, I know it, but something felt...wrong...in this room. Tiffany would’ve called it bad energy and maybe would’ve tried to burn some dried plants before the room steward caught her, but I didn’t have anything like that. I said to myself, Jimmy, my boy, it is high time you got out of here. I drained the glass of champagne and skedaddled.

I left the room and dodged stewards with suitcases, families with kids, and seniors with canes like I’m in Pamplona running against the bulls. The crowds don’t get better when I reach the lobby. I waited in line to see the concierge, and after way too many minutes of watching couples hold hands and sneak furtive touches and stare into each others’ eyes, let me tell you, I’m not going to win any sportsmanship awards. I’m not bitter; I’m a sweet guy, everyone says so, but man it makes my blood boil when the world rubs the things you lost right in your face. 

Anyway, I got up to the desk and the young man there was so thin I could probably break him over my knee like kindling. I never would, of course, I’m the gentlest man you’ll ever meet. The kid’s name tag saidread Javier from Venezuela, and he gave me a polite hello without looking up from his computer screen. I told this smooth-cheeked kid that I need to change cabins, using as mild a voice as the Virgin Mary would for her sweet baby Jesus. 

Javier told me that the ship was full and there was no way a room change could happen. I told him what my stateroom number was, and the kid didn’t flinch. He was asking me what the problem was when he finally glanced up at my face. I don’t even think he was listening to my made-up excuses of a bad smell and a broken bathroom door. Instead, he stared at my eyes as though they were streaming FIFA or something and said he’d keep me updated if another cabin should come up. 

I made my way to the dining level and ate a quick lunch at the buffet, wishing I’d brought something to look at, even a book. I’m no reader, except for the Good Book, of course, but what I wouldn’t give to have anything that’d block the sight of all that marital bliss. All I had on the table was the small stand-up menu of drinks, and my eyes were glued to those bright-hued beverages while I chewed my burger and guzzled my beer for all I was worth. I flipped from one sticky page to the next until I landed on a picture of a Bloody Mary. The sight of all that red... I slammed the menu shut so fast I startled the old geezers beside me. A couple of deep breaths like I learned in anger management class, but they didn’t work, and the bad thoughts were coming, so I stood up and tossed my cloth napkin on the table. 

A small Filipino man rushed over to clean up, and I gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder as though everything was cool, that all that red wasn’t filling my vision until I could barely see the exit. 

Dinner was superb, I said. My voice was strained. I’d said the wrong meal. More heads turned. 

After a brief detour to the closest bar, I made it back to my stateroom and walked out onto the balcony. While I was eating, the ship had pulled out of the port and was picking up speed. The railing was dusted with salt from the sea, and my forearms felt gritty as they leaned on the tacky surface. In the heavy, humid air, I tried to catch my breath. I took a big drink of my gin and tonic, and that helped too. Eventually, my eyes focused enough to see how far up I was and how dark and deep the water below me looked. I stepped back a pace. It was the kind of depth that could swallow you up, sins and all, and no one would be the wiser.

I turned back to the room and noticed my luggage stacked in the corner. I took my time and unpacked, the back of my neck prickling all the while. I scratched at my chest before I remembered not to, and the sharp pain made me gasp. 

No matter how many times I tried, how many drinks I drank, I couldn’t relax. I thought going on this trip alone would be a chance for some R&R, and anyway, it was already paid for. I never dreamt I’d feel trapped — a whole week in a creepy room with no place to escape. 

Man, just thinking of spending the night in here gave me the willies. I couldn’t even tell you why—I never got scared.  Now I was like a mouse that’d seen a cat, all weak-kneed and sweat-slicked skin, and over what? Well-oiled door hinges and a trick of the light? I shook my head. In an hour, there was a muster drill all passengers had to attend. I sat on my bed, fully dressed, checking the time like I worked for the Olympic Track and Field Commission. 

After twenty minutes I thought, yeah, that’s long enough. I couldn’t stay in here a minute longer. The room just...pressed in on you, till it felt like you’d been jammed in a suitcase, or someone was squeezing your heart. I made my way down to my station, a lounge, and sank into the cushioned chair. As was usual for this particular cruise line, the decor on the good ship Reflection was gaudy opulence, all dark wood with polished gold accents. 

There was a staff member in the lounge near my seat, a pretty little thing even with the neon green hat and matching vest they have to wear during these drills. I smiled at her, and she hesitated a tick before she came over. We made polite conversation, though she was shy and kept her gaze on the people trickling into the room. Eventually I felt she’d relaxed enough for me to get a little information from her, some idea about what was wrong with my room.

So, Anna, have you ever heard of anything creepy going down in cabin 7402? Anyone ever die in there? 

The question surprised her enough to make eye contact with me. Her hand flew up to her neck and she gripped at the crucifix hanging from a thin gold chain. She lost her smile and shook her head.

I won’t say anything, Anna. Please, I just gotta know I’m not crazy.

I haven’t heard any stories about your room, Sir, she said, before she excused herself to help an elderly woman.  

I girded myself with her words until I could laugh at my silliness. After the drill, I went back and dressed for dinner, and the room was just a room. I made my way to the opulent dining room. I enjoyed the grub, ordered and ate enough for two, and hey, why not? It was all included.  The evening program was a show, some song and dance number I wouldn’t normally watch, but I stayed until the theatre was empty even if the lead guy couldn’t carry a tune. 

After the show, I headed to the casino and stayed there as late as I could, but eventually my early morning flight and the drinks I’d been wetting my whistle with threatened to do me in. I got up from the poker table I’d been losing money at and headed back to 7402, listing heavily against the narrow walls of the ship’s corridors. I stumbled through my night routine and crawled into the king-sized bed, just shy of the center. Right in the middle was a groove where they’d pushed the two single beds together. That was an express train to the chiropractor, right there. It wasn’t long before I drifted off. 

I woke up in the middle of the night.  The room was black, the wan moonlight shining through the balcony doors the only source of illumination. Low clouds obscured the moon and stars, and it was so dark I could barely make out the shapes of the furniture around me. I don’t know what brought me out of my gin-aided slumber, but even though my head spun from the liquor, my skin was crawling. You ever get that feeling, where it feels like every hair on your body is standing at attention, your pores are leaking sweat, and your body is frozen? All I could move were my eyes, and they were next to useless. Except there, in the corner, was that black shadow shaped like a person? Was it coming closer? My inability to see clearly made my eyes near useless, and worsened my dizziness, so I clenched them shut. My right eye throbbed for a few heartbeats but I paid it no mind. No, 110% of my attention was focused on the sounds that were crossing cabin 7402. Oh God, the sounds. It was the swishing and sliding of layered material, like a woman walking in a ball gown. The fabric moving and rubbing along itself shifted closer to me, and the room was so small. I fought to quiet the gasping rasps of my breath, to master my fear, sure that the stranger could hear the galloping thuds of my heartbeats.

When it sounded like this dress, and the person wearing it, was right up beside the foot of my bed, I swear on the Holy Bible that the mattress moved a little, the way it would if someone had bumped against it. There was the faintest whiff of a smell too. Not my mama’s, but a familiar one. I couldn’t place it. It violated my nose, cast hooks in my brain, like when you see a familiar face on the TV and can’t remember where you saw that actor before. 

I’ve always thought of myself as a brave guy. I never shied away from fights and slept like a baby after horror movies. In the near-total darkness, drowning in a scent that both puzzled and terrified me, too close to a figure that had no way into my locked room, I wasn’t brave. Something in my hindbrain whispered, Jimmy, my boy, you are in danger, and I began to shake. 

My eyes stayed shut, afraid of what I’d see if I opened them. I couldn’t even say the Lord’s prayer, words memorized since childhood dried into dust and blown away in my terror. And, a small part of me wondered, what if I angered the spirit by praying?

I lay there, trembling and sweating beneath covers that offered the scantest of protection, eyes and nose leaking tears and snot. I was completely powerless, and no one would come to save me. 

Eventually, the smell that filled my nose faded away, and a light from behind my clenched eyelids told me the sun had risen. When I dared look, the room was as I had left it. I was alone. I