Night Terrors Vol. 2: Short Horror Stories Anthology
Listen to a sample here:
đŁ Narrated by Johnny Raven and Stephanie Shade
Nightmares canât really hurt you⌠can they?
An evil from beyond the stars haunts a young boy and his father at Roswell Airbase. The survivors of a sunken warship take refuge on a deserted island, and discover they are not alone. And terror checks in at an old motel, when a vacationing family finds themselves trapped in an ancient curseâŚ
Scare Street journeys into the night to bring you a new volume of skin-crawling terror. This macabre collection contains thirteen chilling tales of supernatural horror. And each story will sweep you away to a world of dark dreams and fantastical nightmaresâŚ
Some believe that if you see yourself die in your dreams, then your heart will stop. But thatâs just an old wivesâ tale, isnât it? After all, the icy chill of death lurks within every story in this ghastly tome. And your heart hasnât stopped yet.
In fact, with each turn of the page, you can hear it beating faster and fasterâŚ
This bone-chilling supernatural collection contains:
1. Live Bait by Jude Reid
2. The Hungry Worm by Michael D. Nye
3. The Magician Needs a Volunteer by Matt Brandenburg
4. Lab Incident, 1947 by Martin Zeigler
5. A House Divided by M. B. Vujacic
6. Sundown and Shadows by Michelle Tang
7. The Old Coach Inn by Kris Ashton
8. Ashes to Ashes by Robert Douglas
9. Folie-a-Deux by Gina Easton
10. Do Something Funny by Clark Boyd
11. Fertile Soil by Brian Sperl
12. Night Dive by Drew Starling
13. Home Sick by Ron Ripley
7 hours and 19 minutes
215 pages
Live Bait
By Jude Reid
We were all dead from the moment the torpedo hit the Grangemouth. It just took some of us longer to realize than others.
There were five of us in the lifeboat: my brother Iain and I, a Lieutenant of Marines named Horton, the shipâs telegrapher Charlie Senguptaâlisted at fourteen years of age, but who looked closer to twelveâand a big Maltese stoker who spoke no English but whose name, Charlie told us, was Joe Abela. We had the luxury of a weekâs water supply meant for ten, but at Horton's insistence, we kept the ration short. Abela was suffering more than the rest of us, an eight-inch gouge torn out of his thigh by a piece of shrapnel.
The wound opened every time he moved and gave off a sickly, pungent smell of decay.
There must have been other survivors. Weâd seen the other lifeboats cast off during those last, desperate moments on board, and surely not all of them had been pulled down with the ship as she broke deep and took on waterâbut once we were out in the open sea, we might have been the only men alive in the world. Half our crew had been killed outright as the U-boatâs torpedo ripped a twenty-foot hole through the stern, most of the rest drowning below decks as she sank. I thought we were lucky, those of us who found a space on the life-rafts and made it far enough away that the ship couldnât drag us under in her wake. If Iâd known what was to come, Iâd have gone down with the Grangemouth and thanked God for my good fortune.
On the first day, we put our backs to the oars and headed on an eastward bearing, thinking we might retrace our shipâs route across the Aegean, but we soon gave up any hope of that. We had tarps to shield us during the blistering heat of noon and the freezing nighttime air, a case of flares, and a portable wireless transmitter-receiver that would have been a lifesaver, if only it had been working.
Close to dawn on the third day, Charlie woke us with a yell, the boat rolling wildly under us.
âSit down before you have us over,â Iain said, eyes still closed.
âItâs land,â Charlie said. âLieutenant, wake up. Thereâs land ahead.â
The boat pitched as Horton got to his feet, leaning across the side as if getting three feet closer would make a difference to the quality of his view. âThe boyâs right, by God,â Horton said. âCould it be Malta, do you suppose? Ask Abela, Charlie.â
The lascar knew a few words of Maltese and seemed to have a natural flair for languages. Abelaâs eyes remained unfocused, but he answered the boyâs halting question with a few words of his own.
âHe says thereâs lots of islands out here. Too far south for Malta, he thinks.â âIâll take a desert island over another day of this,â Iain said, getting up from the bottom of the boat. âUp you get, Gus, give me a hand.â
Horton nodded with approval. âTake the oars, men. Give way together.â
Iain rolled his eyes at me. Horton seemed to have appointed himself cox of our crew, maintaining rigorous attention to discipline that the rest of us had more or less lost in our new role as castaways. My brother had never shown much reverence to the officer class, and he reserved special contempt for the Grangemouthâs Marines, who were, in his opinion, an inferior sort of seamen compared to the rest of us. I was sure that when the water ran short, Horton would be first over the side.
I took the other oar, and between us, we navigated toward the rocks. The worst heat of the day was yet to come, but my mouth was already dry and my skin chafed with salt. Charlie was leaning over the bow like an eager dog, the waters below us turning from midnight to a clear pale turquoise.
"Doesnât look like much,â Iain muttered, as we got our first sight of the islandâlittle more than a bare rocky spur sticking up from the ocean.
âItâs land,â I reminded him. âCount your blessings.â
Iain and I dragged the boat up the beach, while Charlie helped Abela limp his way through the shallows and settled him with his back to a rock. Even that small exertion had turned him grey with exhaustion, and thick greenish pus was leaking through the bandage around his thigh. Horton was already striding away from us. âHello?â he shouted. âAnyone home?â
I glanced at Iain, who shrugged.
The report of a pistol echoed off the cliff face, and the rock erupted in a shrieking cloud of black, fluttering shapes that obliterated the sun. Seabirdsâgannets, cormorants, shearwaters, and petrelsâtook the air, screaming at the invasion of their home, feathers and droppings littering the rocks. The shot had come from Hortonâs Webley revolver, which was pointing skyward.
âDid you see something, sir?â I asked.
He shook his head, a brisk, impatient movement. âLet off a shot to attract attention,â he said. âIâve no wish to wait any longer than necessary for the natives to arrive.â If there were humans on the island, I thought, theyâd be heading straight in the opposite direction right now.
"Nobody home, sir?" Charlie asked, and Horton shook his head.
"Hurry up," he snapped, putting his foot upon a rock as though he were a game hunter and the island was his prize. âInland. Thatâs where weâll find water and shelter if thereâs any to be had.â
I glanced back at Charlie and Abela. The big manâs eyes were closed. Charlie was looking up at me with a pleading expression.
âBest to leave a lookout on the beach, sir, Iâd have thought,â I said. âBe a shame to miss a ship if one came in sight.â
Horton scowled at me, turned, and strode away. âBe quick, then. Those two can wait for now, weâll get the work done. See if you can catch us some fish for supper.â
âAnd whatâs he to use for bait?â Iain asked. âShipâs biscuit?â
Horton ignored him, and Charlie flashed me a quick smile of thanks. Iain and I hurried to catch the lieutenant, and the three of us picked our way across the rocks, following the line of the shore and attempting an uneasy scramble up the sloping rocks. The stone was warm under my hands, the clear sky holding the promise of scorching heat to come. Used to masts and rigging as we were, Iain and I made light work of the climb, and soon we were at the top, our legs dangling over the edge.
âGood view,â I said.
We were perched on a flat plateau of scrub grass and bare rock, spattered with bird droppings and downy feathers. To the west, a gentle slope led part-way down the hill, ending abruptly in a sheer cliff that promised a fatal drop onto the rocks below. No smoke, no houses, no boatsâonly the mirror of the sea that stretched to the hazy horizon.
âIâd have preferred a bit more land and a bit less ocean, if Iâm honest with you,â Iain answered.
âYouâre never happy.â
Horton, scarlet-faced and sweating, heaved himself over the cliff edge where he lay, gasping like a landed fish.
âNothing up here,â Iain said with a cheerful smile. âMight as well head down, eh?â Horton glared at him. I hurriedly passed the Lieutenant my canteen, and he took a few grudging gulps of water, wiping his mouth on the cuff of his shirt.
âThere might be land westward,â I said, pointing into the hazy distance. âOnce the mists clear, weâll get a better look. And if we could get a beacon going, theyâll see it miles out to sea.â
I didnât add that there was nothing to burn. Iain knew, and I think Horton did as well, that by the time the sea brought us enough driftwood for a half-decent fire, the water weâd brought would be long goneâand us with it. The little island had looked like salvation from the life-raft, but now it seemed weâd simply swapped one death for another.
Charlie was waiting for us when we got down. It must have been close to noon by then, our shadows barely visible on the yellow sand. Heâd made good use of the time, emptying the boat of the tarps and the precious jerry cans, dragging them up the beach.
âI found a cave,â he said, pride beaming from his round face.
âGood lad,â Iain said, and even Hortonâs sour expression seemed to soften.
From the outside, our new home wasnât much to look atâlittle more than a fissure in the rock shoulder height and half as wideâbut inside, it opened into a roomy cavern, lit with one of our surviving electric lanterns, shadows receding into the hillside. It stank of fish and rotting seaweed, but the shade was welcome after the burning light outside. Abela was propped against the cavernâs wall, all but insensible, a thick film of sweat coating his skin. I put a hand to his brow and brought it away hot and clammy. âNot so good?â I said to Charlie, who shook his head.
âI washed the wound and put sulfa powder on it,â he said. âNot sure itâs doing much good though.â
âHeâll not last long in that state,â Iain said under his breath, and I was forced to agree.
âOne of usâll have to keep a lookout on the shore,â I suggested. âIn case a ship passes, we can maybe attract their attention.â
âAnd hope they see you waving your shirt?â Iainâs voice was thick with scorn. âTheyâd best have keen eyes.â
âWhat about the wireless?â Horton said.
âItâs broken,â Charlie said. âMust have been damaged, maybe the shock when the torpedo hit us.â He looked at his feet, the dim light not quite hiding the color that spread across his face. I thought back to our desperate scramble from the Grangemouth onto the lifeboat and the clatter as heâd dropped the case that held the wireless. I decided to keep my silence.
âCan you fix it, then?â Horton asked.
Charlie spread his hands. âI donât know.â
âWell, strip it down and try,â Horton said, as though explaining to a child. âYouâre hardly going to make it worse, are you?â
Iain had wandered away a little distance and was listening intently to the depths of the cavern. A moment later, he turned and motioned for me to join him. âDo you hear that?â he asked me.
Get ready for chills and thrills! Once you've made your purchase, keep an eye on your inbox for an email from BookFunnel.
Inside, you'll find not only your download link but also some nifty instructions on how to transfer the book to your favorite device.
And that's it! You're just a click away from diving into a world of frightful excitement.
See you in the shadows! đť
- Fast Shipping & Easy Delivery
- Safe Transactions
- 30-Day Money Back Guarantee