Lockdown Phantom #4: Lockdown, #19

By Black Hare Press

Supernatural stories for LOCKDOWN.

 

Entwined by Trynda E. Adair

The Intention of Fire by Morgan Chalfant

Emily by Maxine Churchman

The Clock by R.F. Cooper

Play With Me by R.A. Goli

Ghost in a Gramophone by Dana Himrich

Pizzicato by Nerisha Kemraj

Fraternity Initiation by Andrew Kurtz

The Last Reunion by Jacqueline Moran Meyer

A Whisper So Quiet by Kelly Matsuura

Nackenschmerzen by Beth W. Patterson

Thems That Wait by Kimberly Rei

The Writing Desk by MacKenzie Richardson

Halloween Feast by MacKenzie Richardson

The Box of Souls by Lamont A. Turner

Green Hill Haunting by C.L. Williams

• Language: English
• Publisher: Black Hare Press
• Release date: Oct 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215902462

Book preview

LOCKDOWN

PHANTOM #4

A close up of a logo Description automatically generated

Compiled & Edited by

D. Kershaw | Maggie Pawsey| S. Jade Path | S.N. Graves

Also available and coming soon

from Black Hare Press

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DARK DRABBLES ANTHOLOGIES

WORLDS

ANGELS

MONSTERS

BEYOND

UNRAVEL

APOCALYPSE

LOVE

HATE

OCEANS

ANCIENTS

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HELL HARE HOUSE PRODUCTIONS

SEEING

RAINMAKER

THE DOUBLE HELIX CONUNDRUM

TESATO’S CODE

THE PUB AT CROKER’S CROSSING

SANCTUARY

THE DEVIL AND THE LOCH ARD GORGE

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OTHER VOLUMES

DEEP SPACE

WHAT IF?

KEY TO THE KINGDOM

DEEP SEA

BEYOND THE REALM

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Twitter: @BlackHarePress

Facebook: BlackHarePress

Website: www.BlackHarePress.com

LOCKDOWN PHANTOM #4 title is

Copyright © 2022 Black Hare Press

First published in Australia in October 2022 by Black Hare Press

The authors of the individual stories retain the copyright of the works featured in this anthology

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this production may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

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Cover Design Dawn Burdett www.dmburdett.com

Formatting Ben Thomas  www.blackharepress.com

S. Jade Path linktr.ee/sjadepath

Editing  D. Kershaw  www.blackharepress.com

S. Jade Path linktr.ee/sjadepath

Maggie Pawsey

S.N. Graves www.sngraves.com

Special thanks to the Lockdown Read Team

Alice Lam • David Green • Holley Cornetto • Jennifer Hatfield

Jodi Jensen • Lyndsay Ellis-Holloway • Stacey Jaine McIntosh

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PLAY WITH ME

THEMS THAT WAIT

FRATERNITY INITIATION

EMILY

NACKENSCHMERZEN

HALLOWEEN FEAST

A WHISPER SO QUIET

THE BOX OF SOULS

THE INTENTION OF FIRE

ENTWINED

THE LAST REUNION

THE WRITING DESK

GREEN HILL HAUNTING

PIZZACATO

GHOST IN A GRAMAPHONE

THE CLOCK

ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

PLAY WITH ME

By R.A. Goli

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Darla stepped out the back door, laundry basket in hand, scruffy terrier at her feet. She plonked the basket onto the ground, barely avoiding dumping it straight onto the dog’s head.

Out of the way, Finn.

He scooted aside, then bounded around her legs as she hung the washing. A sudden gust of wind blew, spinning the clothesline around. The shaking branches of the old oak in the corner of the yard drew her attention. Planted long before the housing estate was built, its knobbly trunk and gnarled, sparse branches gave Darla the creeps. She shivered, wondering if she should have put a jacket on before coming outside. Finn started barking at the house. Darla glanced at the back door, expecting Nicholas to walk out. He didn’t, and Finn kept barking, standing stiff, his front right paw raised. Darla walked over and rubbed his head.

It’s alright, boy, it’s just Daddy coming home.

The dog looked at her, then back at the house, but sat quietly as she continued her mundane chore.

Once finished, she headed inside, holding the door open to let the dog through.

Well, come on, I don’t have all day. Finn let out a little whine, not moving from the grass.

Stay out, then. She let the door close behind her. She dumped the basket in the laundry and went to the kitchen to start dinner.

She froze mid-step, her heart pounding. What the hell? Every second drawer and cupboard door was open. Even the fridge door.

For fuck’s sake, she muttered as she stormed over to close the fridge, her initial thought of milk turning sour. She and Nicholas had bought the house a few months earlier, and this was the third time he had done this. It was starting to really annoy her. He was always a bit of a prankster, but she was tired of it.

Nick? She paused, waiting for a response. Nick!

What? His deep voice called from upstairs.

Come down here.

Hang on, he said. Though she couldn’t hear his sigh, she could imagine it.

They had needed a bigger house because they had planned to start a family, but now, they weren’t getting along. Doubt about whether she wanted children with him at all seeped into her mind, like pessimistic seeds being planted for later.

Hurry up, she called, just as she heard his footfalls on the stairs. She grimaced. That would irritate him. She could feel a fight coming. So what? He deserves to be yelled at after this.

What? he said when he walked into the kitchen.

She held out her arms in the universal ‘what the hell?’ gesture.

So, you’re up to this shit again? he said.

Me? It wasn’t me; it was you.

Why the hell would I do this?

Well, why would I? I was hanging the washing; this is what it was like when I came in.

Well, how could I have done this? I just got home from work and jumped straight in the shower.

Darla could feel tears prick the back of her eyes, and she did her best not to let them spill.

Do you think it’s funny?

He threw his hands up in the air, then started slamming doors and cupboards shut. He glared at her once he’d finished.

I’m sick of having this argument. He walked away before she could say anything else.

They’d been having the same fight over and over again. She wondered if it was because neither of them wanted to talk about what was really bothering them—the fact they had bought a big house with a spare room and had nothing to fill it with. When she heard the television come on, she let out a muffled sob.

***

As the weeks crawled by, summer turned to autumn and the crooked tree dropped the rest of its leaves. Instead of the beautiful autumn colours of reds and yellows, the discarded foliage was a dirty brown lump, piled around the trunk’s base. The branches were left barren, like arthritic, wooden fingers reaching towards the sky.

When Darla stepped outside, the wind picked up, scattering the dead leaves across the yard. They crunched underfoot as she and Finn walked towards the washing line. She threw a few of the dry clothes into the basket, spinning the line around to access the next side. She liked the rotary