Thrillobytes: bite-sized horror
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THRILL-O-BYTES
By
Iain Rob Wright
ALSO AVAILABLE BY IAIN ROB WRIGHT
NOVELS
The Final Winter (Silk Raven Associates 2011)
Animal Kingdom (Grand Mal Press 2011)
ASBO (Silk Raven Associates 2012)
AUTHOR’S FOREWORD
Hi there, Readers. Collected here for you are several sick little tales that will hopefully make your skin crawl. They are short, but they are most definitely not sweet. I really hope you enjoy them…
You can visit Iain Rob Wright at his official website: www.iainrobwright.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Published author, Iain Rob Wright, was born in 1984 and lives in Redditch, a small town in the West Midlands, UK, with his loopy cocker spaniels, Daisy and Oscar, his fat old cat, Jess, his many tropical fish, and the love of his life, Sally. Writing is the passion that fills his life during the small periods of time when he isn't cleaning up after his pets.
Horror is his beloved genre, and his many inspirations range from Stephen King and Richard Laymon to J A Konrath and Brian Keene, as well as a whole host of other twisted minds.
Check out his official website for freebies, news, and updates at: http://www.iainrobwright.com
TABLE OF CONTENTS:
1. Short Stories:
1. NIGEL - Picking up a hitchhiker? What’s the worst that can happen?
2. The Peeling of Samuel Lloyd Collins – A grizzly tale inspired by body horror movies such as Cabin Fever and Outbreak.
3. Animal Kingdom – Flash fiction that was the inspiration for the full length novel of the same name
4. Zombies are Dead – Zombies are boring, but they’re here to eat your brains anyway
5. The Hunt – A short story taken from the end of the novel Animal Kingdom. The hunter becomes the hunted.
6. FANGS FOR COMING – Dating on the dark side
7. COLD SHOULDER – Set during the events of the novel The Final Winter. Marriage can drive a man mad.
8. NEWS AND WEATHER – Set during the events of the novel The Final Winter. Reporter Jane Hamilton finally gets some footage to die for.
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2. A – Z of how to Survive a Horror Movie
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3. Additional
Preview of the full length novel, The Final Winter
Preview of the full length novel, Animal Kingdom
Preview of the full length novel, ASBO
Q & A with Iain Rob Wright
NIGEL
Nigel saw the girl at the side of the road and slowed down, turning off his lights so as not to blind her. The girl was young, early twenties, and had hair so blonde that it seemed to light up the darkness around her.
Nigel pressed the switch for the passenger window and leant over. “You need a lift?”
The girl looked at him and smiled. To Nigel the expression seemed to have a hint mischief about it. She sauntered over to his car and placed a hand on the roof. “Hey honey! I surely do.”
American? Nigel frowned. What was a young American girl doing walking along an English country-road at close to midnight? Guess, it doesn’t matter, Nigel thought. If the gal needs a lift. I’m happy to oblige. He unlocked the passenger door and pushed it open. “Get in.”
“That’s mighty fine of ya darlin.” The girl hopped into the seat beside him and offered her hand. “My name’s Marline.”
Nigel accepted the handshake and introduced himself back. “My name is Mark,” he lied.
“Well, Mark,” Marline pulled shut the door on her side. “Where ya heading?”
Nigel pressed down on the accelerator and pulled the car away, putting his lights back on a moment later. “I’m just on my way to work. I’m a lorry driver and I gotta take a delivery to Amsterdam, so I’m off to pick up my truck.”
“Amsterdam? Betcha going there for more than jus’ business.”
Nigel examined the girl. The cheeky grin was still on her face and for a moment he didn’t know how he should respond. He wanted to say whatever he thought she would like the most. “I…er, may find the time to fit in a little bit of pleasure.”
“I know exactly what ya mean. Life’s too short to miss any chances to party.”
Nigel nodded, keeping his eyes on the road, but catching brief glimpses of the young body sat beside him. In the darkness of the car’s interior, the only thing he could see clearly was the pale flesh of Marline’s thighs. He cleared his throat as he took a shallow bend in the road. “So, you like to party then?”
“Uh huh, every day of ma life.”
Nigel snuck another quick glance at the girl’s thigh and felt himself getting hard, the fabric of his jeans fighting back against his growing erection. “How do you like to party?”
“I like ta fuck! How bout you?”
Nigel’s grip on the steering wheel tightened momentarily and the car swerved back and forth. After taking a deep breath, Nigel forced out a reply. “I like to fuck too. In fact I’d like to fuck you.”
Did I really just say that? Shit, she started it.
Marline was silent and Nigel felt as though his beating heart would burst right through his chest. He felt sick.
After another agonising moment, Marline finally replied to his comment. “Well pull on over and let’s find ourselves somewhere nice and quiet then.”
Nigel swallowed and a lump stuck in his throat. Without speaking, he pulled the car onto the verge, beneath some trees. He was a bag of nerves, which was surprising as he had fucked hundreds of women in his lifetime (and not all of it was against their will). Sometimes women liked to have sex with him voluntarily, but they weren’t usually so young and feisty.
Gonna enjoy having my way with this one. Might even let her live.
“You okay there, honey? Looks like I’ve lost you to the fairies.”
Nigel turned off the engine and looked at Marline’s beautiful face, full of soft features and gentle contours. He composed himself; didn’t want to scare the girl by allowing her to glimpse at the beast beneath his mask. “Come on let’s find us a place to party,” he said.
“Hell yeah!” Marline squealed in delight and pushed herself out of the car, slamming shut the door behind her.
Nigel shut his own door and pressed the central locking button his key fob. The car squeaked and lit up before going dark and silent. Nigel rubbed at the stubble on his chin and grinned. Time to get to work.
When he looked up Marline was not there.
“Marline, sweetheart. Where’d you get to?”
“I’m over here!” Her voice seemed to float out of the nearby trees. “Ya gonna come find me, sugar?”
Great, she expects me to play childish games just to get a bit of pussy. Obviously she doesn’t realise that I’m having it whether she likes it or not.
With a sigh, Nigel entered the treeline of the woods, watching his step carefully as he navigated his way over tangled roots and fallen branches. “Come here, sweetheart. This isn’t the way to party.”
“Sure it is, honey. Gotta have you work up a sweat before we get down to the main event. You want the prize, gonna have to work for it.”
You’re testing my patience, bitch.
As calmly as he could, Nigel laughed and said, “Okay, sweetheart, but don’t make me wait too long or else I may lose interest.”
“Oh you won’t lose interest in what I got. It’s ta die for.”
Yeah, and that’s exactly what’s gonna happen to you, sweet Marline, just as soon as I hump the shit out of every one of your holes. Even your ears will be bleeding once I’m done with ya.
“Oh no, what ever will I do if ya find me. Please be gentle, now.”
That’s the last thing I’ll be.
Nigel couldn’t help but laugh as he picked up speed, more and more certain that he could see the young girl up ahead.
“Jeepers, the big strong man found me. Now what are ya gonna do with me?”
Nigel’s jaw dropped. Marline was backed up against a tree, with her arms behind her, and was completely-
Naked!
“Hell girl,” Nigel quipped. You don’t waste no time!”
Marline smiled, the same mischievous smile that she’d shown him at the side of the road when he’d picked her up. “Like I said, life’s too short to miss out on partying. Come get me, big boy.”
Nigel’s grin was so wide that it stretched the skin at the corners of his mouth. Can’t wait to kill you sweetheart. Only question is if I gut you with my knife or strangle you to death. Think I’ll go for strangling; let you look into my eyes while I murder you.
Nigel reached Marline and instantly reached out for her breasts. The girl put her knee up to block his advance. “Not so quick, sugar.”
Nigel sighed. “No more games.”
Marline shook her head. “No, no more games I promise. Just close your eyes because I have a present for you.”
Nigel shook his head. “No.”
Marline pouted, her plush lips bunching up into a moist circle. “Pwitty pwease! I just wanna give you something to remember me by.”
“Fine!” Nigel shook his head, impatient, but did as she asked of him; eager to get started. He closed his eyes.
The pain was blinding. The sharp stab at his ribs seemed to radiate through his entire body until even his fingertips were aching. He dropped to the floor, trying to catch his breath. But couldn’t.
“How’s that feel mate?”
Mate? Nigel looked up at the girl – who had suddenly lost her American accent – and saw that her mischievous grin had become a malevolent smirk. The girl had planned this all along; the blood-soaked blade in her hand made him sure of that fact. “W…Why?”
“Why what, you fat fuck?”
Nigel gripped the gushing wound in his side and felt hot blood run through his fingers. “Why…this?”
Marline (if that’s even her real name) began to laugh so loud that the sound added to Nigel’s already-substantial pain, rattling around inside his skull. The young girl – now a mask-less monster, the same as Nigel – stared down at him with disgust etched across her face. “What? You mean it’s okay for you to go around murdering young girls, but it’s not okay for me to go and stab you back. You fucking hypocrite!”
Nigel tried to rise up to his knees but failed and fell back down onto his side. “H-How did you…know?”
“Cus you killed my girlfriend!” Marline spat at him, but there was too much pain seizing Nigel’s body that he didn’t have the capacity to feel it his face. “Name was Dannielle and all she wanted was a lift, but you gave her a lot more than that didn’t you? Good thing she managed to make a secret phone call before you raped her.”
Nigel put a hand up in front of him. “You have…me mistaken.”
To Nigel’s horror, the young girl ran her tongue along the blood-drenched blade, savouring his blood, and then she pounced again. The blade entered Nigel just below his collarbone. It didn’t hurt as much as the first stabbing, but was enough to knock the wind out of him again.
Marline crouched beside him and got right in his face. Absurdly, Nigel was aware of the smell of peppermint on the girl’s breath. “I don’t make mistakes,” she said to him in a whisper. “I’ve been watching you for a long time, Nigel; seen the girl’s you’ve raped and murdered. I even know that you almost got caught last winter when the Police got an anonymous call to search your truck. Guess you must have had a good little hiding place for all those pinkie fingers you cut of your victims for them not to have found anything. You’ve totted up quite the little kill spree since then, but it ends now.”
But that was a lie, Nigel found out, because an hour later Marline was still hacking away at him with her blade and squealing with delight.
The girl really does like to party, thought Nigel, as he screamed for help that would never come.
THE PEELING OF SAMUEL LLOYD COLLINS
Thursday
My big toenail fell off today. That leaves three on my right foot and two on my left. It stung at first, but now my toe just feels…hot. I’m keeping the nail in an ashtray in the kitchen.
My name is Samuel Lloyd Collins and I suppose, in a way, this is my last will and testament, except I don’t have anybody to leave anything to, so I guess this is really just my last testament. Or maybe writing this is merely the closest thing I have to company.
I don’t have to be alone. I could go next door and take part in one of their endless political debates that echo through the walls and keep me awake at night. Sometimes I think about yelling at them to ‘keep it down’, but what would be the use? Politics are high on everybody’s agenda right now. One would expect them to be.
Everyone has their own theory on how ‘The Peeling’ started, but I personally think it was the Arabs. It’s always the Arabs, isn’t it? Saddam is dead and the Yanks finally got Osama. So what choice did they have left but to go for broke? Everyone assumed their master plan would culminate with a nuclear attack on a major city, but in many ways this virus is worse. We may have snuffed out the leaders, but their passion for killing, it seems, will never die. You cut the head off a chicken and it runs around like a maniac, spraying anyone nearby with blood. That’s what ‘The Peeling’ is: arterial chicken blood spraying us all with its infectious filth. I guess the Arabs won in the end…
I came down with the sickness on Tuesday. Two days ago. I’ve already lost a bit of hair and some skin off my testicles, and you already know about the toenails. Funnily enough, my fingernails are currently unaffected, probably the only reason I’m able to write this. I thought about typing this on the computer, but somehow it felt like a man’s final words should be in ink, don’t you think? Maybe when it comes right down to it, paper is more permanent than a collection of cheap circuits.
My future is laid out for me now. I’ll be dead within a week, give or take a day. The beauty of the Peeling is that it leaves no room for hypothesising. No room for hope. It kills every time, no exceptions. In a way that certainty has allowed me to come to terms and accept my fate. This time next week I will be a bubbling oil-slick of rancid, dissolving flesh. Somehow I’m fine with that.
But I need to know who is responsible for the pain I’m in. I already told you I think it’s the Arabs, but unless I know for sure…Well let’s just say that knowing for definite would bring a certain degree of closure to the situation. Of course, the honourable men and women of the Government’s various agencies are urgently investigating the origin of this disease and those responsible, but as each second passes, Great Britain withers and dies beneath its second great plague. I just hope to be alive when they determine the guilty party.
Already know it was the Arabs, just need to know for sure…
Friday
I woke up this morning stuck to my pillow. Not because I had been drooling in my sleep, but because the skin below my left eye had rotted and fused with the cotton. I had to rip the pillow away and half of my face with it. The resulting meld of infected flesh and sickly white cotton reminded me of a surrealist painting, beautiful in a way. Maybe I’ll have it framed before I die.
What an odd thing to muse upon! It would not surprise me if I have gone quite mad. I’m already starting to feel delightfully delirious (or maybe that’s just the throbbing and burning where my face used to be).
Such good bone structure I was blessed with, but did not know of, until I was today faced with it in the mirror.
The bone of my cheek now shows right through, covered only by several, thin slivers of sinewy gristle. I look like the Phantom of the Opera (albeit a grizzlier version). I wonder what part of me will dissolve tomorrow. That’s the fun part of this sickness, I suppose, not knowing which chunk of skin will decompose next. It isn’t like typical flesh-eating diseases; they have a point of infection and usually spread systematically. But The Peeling strikes the body at random, necrotising a man’s feet before popping up a day later and doing the same to his ears. I’ve seen hundreds of case photographs and no two victims follow the same path of infection. The only non-variable: it’s always fatal. No one understands this disease at all…