The Impossible Door & Other Stories

By Jonathan J Snyder

Whether it be a door that should not be in the basement or a strange figure in the heat of the day, there is always something terrifying to be found. The Impossible Door and Other Stories is a chilling anthology of horror short stories of Jonathan Snyder which blurs the line between what is real and what is from another world. You may never look at a street lamp the same way again or wish you had more cats to protect you.

Each story, penned by a lover of horror, is a finely crafted piece of darkness, designed to unsettle the mind and awaken your deepest fears. A total of nine stories to keep you up at night!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Epic Worlds
• Release date: Jan 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223642817

Jonathan J Snyder

From the heights of the caffeine high to the lows of floors and under furniture comes the tales of Jonathan Snyder. These good stories are forged with love and obsession, destined to keep the author from going insane. Supported on his quest by a beautiful princess who became his wife and two fierce warrior children who remind daddy that there is the world to take on.

Book preview

The Impossible Door

& Other Stories

Jonathan Snyder

Epic Worlds

Copyright © 2024 Jonathan Snyder

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

H.

For being a wonderful writing buddy and sharing your dark humor and story ideas!

Sometimes I wonder if you're actually the monster I need to be careful about.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

It Happens at Eight in the Evening

Reservoir of Ghosts

Mulch Man

The Flea Market

The Impossible Door

Green lights are not Safe

The Hitchhiker

In Truth, Cats are Man's Best Friend

Moonstone Cemetery

List of Stories

About The Author

Books By This Author

It Happens at Eight in the Evening

It was honestly the second week when Jason Hughes noticed the strange man and the house at the end of the street. The house itself had been known for quite some time among the teenagers of the neighborhood and anyone who bothered to look in the historical files at the library could see the dilapidated old house had been there as far as the records go back. The poor excuse of a home sat at the edge of town, the last street moving on past Jason’s own home, another 500 feet and ended right at its rotted picket fence.

It was in the week of summer break from college that Jason found himself sitting on his step dad’s porch staring out at the failed construction project, the trees that seemed to lean in to protect it (even though their branches never seen to grow anything but patches of ugly old brown leaves) and anyone walking by it always picked up their pace.

You know anything about that dump? Jason asked his dad as he stepped on the porch to grave the morning newspaper he never got in the morning.

The Alden house? the pot bellied man with graying hair asked freezing as if broken from a trance. The sports commercials blaring through the screen door. Nope. In my day we’d avoid that place. A few kids tried to do challenges there but no one ever stayed.

Why?

Dunno, the man said, tossing the newspaper in the trashcan by the door and letting the screen slam loudly.

It was only an hour later when the first weird thing happened. Jason had started his second beer (after flipping off the tired cop who really had no interest in getting involved in underage drinking) and had downed half of it when he saw him.

An old man was walking briskly down the sidewalk, his cane with a silver knob clicking against the cracked cement, brown suit tailored perfectly, and a mustache the same gray as his head. He did not look in either direction nor seemed to pay attention to the random stranger hurrying by. Jason was about to ignore him and finish the last of his beer when the man slowed down in front of the Alden House.

Jason raised an eyebrow as the man, instead of continuing forward, turned into the sidewalk, through the rotting gate, up the unkept path, between the long grass, up to the door knob, inserted the key, and went in. The college kid glanced at his watch and saw it was eight pm.

Dad. Someone just went into the Alden house.

So what? came the half distracted response followed by a bellow of cheer as the sports team his step dad was rooting for won a point.

The clock ticked away. Jason kept glancing down at his watch until eight thirty when the door opened again, the man stepped out, locked up, and retraced his steps back out. Then continued on his merry way as if he did not stop by what was probably a haunted house.

Over the next week, Jason saw the strange man enter the weird abode every day at the exact same time and leave at the exact same time. Asking questions throughout the day did not elicit anything interesting than the librarian stating the house was owned by the town, the police officer said it was a vandal that they’d patrol for, and his friends thinking it was some dumb loser looking for a place to do drugs. None of these fit the look of the man or the precision that he showed.

It was the thirteenth day that Jason had finally had enough. Waiting until the man had gone into the house, the college kid sauntered across the street, dived into the yard when nosey Rebecca Morsley wasn’t looking out her window, and ducked behind the left side of the house through the tall grass.

The seeds of the thistles and grass stuck to his clothes as he made his way to the window hoping that the swishing and gripping of the grass around his feet was not so loud that the weirdo had heard him. Jason knelt down and tried to find a clear enough spot to peer through the grimy window. A cricket somewhere near his feet began to sing out mistaking his red sneakers for a mate looking to get busy. The little guy sang his heart out while Jason gently scrubbed at a pane. Though it was not much, he could make out the man in the far corner of the house setting out utensils on a gingham tablecloth which he must have brought with him. They showed near the rot or decay that surrounded him. The stranger moved out of view and Jason focused, hoping to get a better look at what was on the table near