Night Terrors
VALENTINE KING
This is a work of fiction, names, and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved. Excepting in the case of brief quotations in articles or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, stored, or distributed without the express permission of the author.
Copyright © 2016 Valentine King
ISBN: 1512052418
ISBN-13: 978-1512052411
Contents
Six Second Murder
Forever Young
Free Refills
A Spot of Gardening
That’s the Way To Do It
Emily Ragdoll
Please Leave a Message
The Quarry
Life in the Country
Petrified
Meeting the Ex
The Adult Toy
No Going Back
The Game of Life
Birthday Party
Trick or Treat
About the Author
Also by the Same Author
Six Second Murder
I always think of him when the snow falls. It had been snowing almost non-stop for two days when he tried to kill me. I still remember the city as it was then, buried under a deep blanket of white. Now I can’t even think of snow without his face intruding into my mind.
I was out with my new camera. It had arrived in the post the day before the snow began but this was the first chance I’d had to get out there and take some outdoor photos, see if it was as good as the reviews had suggested. It was a pretty advanced model, even for me. I’d set it up so that every photo it took was automatically uploaded to the internet, video clips too. It had taken a bit of fiddling to get it connected to my social media profiles but it was worth it for two reasons. One, all my friends and family could see every photo I took without me needing to manually post them and two, it was an incentive for me, who usually took dozens of photos and could never decide which one was worth sharing, to ensure every shot I took was a good one.
The snow soaked through my boots as I crunched my way down Mayfair Street, only about a mile from my house. Each drift I encountered seemed bigger than the last and at times I was more wading than walking, my fingers frozen inside my gloves, my ears burning from the cold even under the scarf wrapped round my head and my woolly hat on top.
The city looked utterly beautiful now the sun had set, lit only by the orange glow of the streetlights and the virgin snow that covered the roads like a thick white coat of paint, smoothing the harsh edges of the cars into shapeless forms that brought images to my mind of life after the apocalypse.
He appeared when I was heading for home. I’d taken six shots and watched the tiny screen flash UPLOADING for each one as thick flakes settled on the waterproof glass. I’d decided it was time to stop for the night when I couldn’t feel my toes anymore and couldn’t stop shivering, a blast of wind hitting me as I turned and forced my way back through the trail I’d left behind, the deep holes my feet had left already fading from view as yet more snow fell.
As I took the shortcut down Eastbourne Street an incredible vista opened up before me. It was as if I’d walked into the past. The cars were completely buried here so all I could see were pure unspoilt undulating mounds of white flanking the two rows of terraced houses either side of the road. It looked like something straight out of A Christmas Carol, the wrought iron lampposts easy to imagine as gaslights, their glow softened by the endless falling white flakes. I had to take one more photo, even in my half frozen state, I just had to.
I stepped off the pavement into the middle of the silent road and stopped, crouching down with the camera hovering above the nearest drift as I looked through the viewfinder. Half buried in the snow my body fought me, making me shiver so much it was hard to keep still long enough to hit the shutter button. I took a deep breath and then took my last shot of the night, the last photo I ever took, I never picked a camera up again after that night, like the snow, they reminded me too much of him.
I was looking down when I hit the button so I didn’t see him at first. When the photo appeared on the screen I was surprised by a blurred shadow appearing at the end of the road, they’d walked right into the middle of my shot and ruined it. Before I could do anything UPLOADING flashed across the image and I swore out loud.
I looked up, hoping whoever it was would walk away so I could try again, wondering if it was possible to get online and delete the failed attempt. He didn’t move. He just stood there, looking directly at me from under the hood of his greatcoat, at this distance I couldn’t see his eyes but I knew he was staring at me, I could feel it.
I gave up waiting after a minute, feeling increasingly unnerved. When was the last time I’d seen another person? I realised the entire time I’d been out I hadn’t seen a soul, nobody else was stupid enough to be out in these kind of conditions. Only me. And him.
I reached the pavement and began forcing my way through the ever deepening drifts, picking up the pace as best I could, wanting only to get away from that staring stranger and back to the safety of my flat.
If it wasn’t for the snow and the cold I’d have heard him coming. But then if it wasn’t for the snow he might not have risked it, when else would he have gotten chance to abduct someone without there being any witnesses around?
My legs began to ache from the effort of forcing my way through and I was about to look back when I felt a pair of hands grab me. I hadn’t even heard him over the wind but he must have run to catch me, grabbing my shoulders and wrenching me backwards off my feet. I slammed into the ground, a plume of snowflakes rising around me as if I’d been thrown into icing sugar.
I tried to twist onto my side as I let out a gasp of shock but by the time I’d moved my shoulder he was at my side, reaching for my arm. He gripped it in both hands and wrenched it painfully behind my back, forcing me back to my feet.
The fall had winded me and I was wheezing for air as I kicked out at him, trying to squirm out of his grip. I managed a pathetic scream, the wind whipping it away from me as he suddenly let go. For a single moment I thought I could run but then his fist slammed into my stomach, knocking any thoughts of escape from my body if not my mind. I hadn’t even seen his face yet, he was just a figure in black. He hit me again and my mouth fell open in pain, something popping in my chest.
The pain of the two ends of a broken rib rubbing together was excruciating and as he began dragging me along the street, I almost passed out, a wave of dizziness washing over me. I was still instinctively kicking my legs at nothing as he pulled me backwards through a doorway and into a house.
He twisted and hurled me along the hallway. I skidded to a halt on a thin carpet as he kicked the door shut, the sound of the wind cutting out as if flicked off by a switch. I staggered upright as he turned towards me and I caught a glimpse of his eyes glinting under the hood of his coat as he ran at me.
My heart pounded, my ribs ached and I was still fighting for breath, my head pounding as I held my arms out in front of me. “Stop…stop,” I gasped, the words little more than a whisper.
He grabbed my shoulders as I lashed out at his chest. He ignored the blows I landed, shoving me backwards through a door that flew open as I hit it. I fought to stay upright as I staggered back and he took advantage, darting forwards and taking hold of me again, pushing me down into a waiting chair.
I tried to get up but he held me in place with inhuman strength, moving one hand to tighten a waiting ziptie around my left wrist, binding my arm to the side of the chair. Panic gave me strength and I slammed my free fir
st into his side again and again but I might have been hitting a statue for all the impact it had.
He reached out and took hold of my right arm, ignoring my screams as he forced it down, using a second ziptie to trap me in place on the creaking chair.
“What the…?” I managed to get out before he hit me again, pinpointing my broken rib and sending any thought of speech far from my mind. The room went dark as white hot pain lanced through me and by the time I could see again my ankles were bound in place, leaving me trapped at his mercy. I twisted my limbs to try and free them as my heart jack hammered in my chest, the plastic ties cutting deep into my skin.
How the hell had this even happened? A few minutes ago I was out taking some lovely scenic photos of the snow and now what was happening? About to be raped? Killed? “What are you doing to me?” I wheezed, tugging at my wrists. “Let me go!”
He disappeared behind me and a second later my woolly hat was yanked down over my eyes. “Let me go!” I screamed, whipping my head from side to side. “Help me someone!”
I heard the rustle of his coat and then his fist crashed into the side of my face, breaking my jaw. I felt the impact a moment before the pain hit me, my ear ringing as I heard him pace up and down behind me muttering to himself, the first time I’d heard him speak.
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” he was saying as if in conversation with someone else. “It’s a bad idea, you’ll get in trouble. But I have to do this, I’ve been planning it too long. You could still let her go. I can’t, it’s gone too far now.”
I tried to scream again but he silenced me with two more punches. My lip swelled up as tears ran down my cheeks. I could taste blood in my mouth and for some reason that scared me more than anything else. Was I going to die here, would that be the last thing I ever tasted?
He fell silent and a moment later I heard him step out in front of me and then he lifted my hat from my head so I could look at him.
“No turning back now,” he said as I stared at him, tossing my scarf aside to expose my neck. He wasn’t how I pictured a murderer. Now his coat was off I could smell the acrid stench of stale sweat rising from his clothes. He was powerfully built but his face seemed out of place, pale with sunken cheeks. He had greasy black hair that was thinning on top and his eyes looked bloodshot as if he’d been crying. He was around forty, the kind of person you wouldn’t look at twice if he saw him in the street. He didn’t smile.
I opened my mouth to scream and he held up a knife, waving it from left to right as if lazily swatting at flies. “Please don’t make a fuss,” he said. “I have such a headache this evening.”
“Please let me go,” I replied, my jaw in fresh agony with each mangled word. “I won’t tell anyone about you, I swear. Just let me go.” My eyes were fixed on the knife as I spoke but I fell silent when he pressed the tip of it into my cheek just deep enough to draw a drop of blood.
“I will let you go,” he said, moving the knife away. “When it’s over. Excuse me for a moment. Scream all you like while I’m gone.”
He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving me to look round to see if there was anything that might help me escape. I tried not to let panic take over as I saw the soundproofing foam coverings the walls and ceiling. A bare light bulb dangled down above my head. As I craned my neck round I could make out the corner of a table. By pushing down on my feet and lifting my whole body in jolting movements, I was just able to turn my chair towards the table.
It was covered a faded red tablecloth and laid on top were ten knives of varying shapes and sizes, the blades brown with rust on all but the smallest. Terror filled my body, the adrenaline numbing my pain enough for me to bump the chair towards the table, knowing he might return at any moment.
I stretched out with my fingertips and caught the edge of the tablecloth, drawing the fabric through my fingers as in my head a voice screamed, “Come on!” The knives slid slowly my way and I willed them on, certain that I’d feel his hand on my shoulder before I reached my goal.
I lunged forwards when I couldn’t wait any longer, stretching out my fingertips and just managing to get hold of the nearest handle. Gripping it tightly, I turned the chair and bumped my way back to where I was. Now I was again the patient victim only this time with something hidden between my hand and the armrest of the chair.
As I came to rest, the door opened and he walked in carrying a tripod with my camera screwed into the top. “What are you going to do to me?” I asked, drawing his attention to me as he glanced across at the table.
“I’m going to make us both famous,” he replied whilst setting up the tripod in front of me. “I’ve always wanted to be famous.”
“How?” I asked, twisting the knife under my wrist and bringing the edge to bear against the ziptie that held my arm in place, waiting for a chance to start sawing.
He carried on adjusting the angle of the camera as he explained, “You walked down my street with the perfect camera. I know this one well, was planning to get one myself at some point. Auto-uploads doesn’t it? Just what I needed.” He stroked the camera gently as if it were alive. “I think you were meant to die tonight, that’s what I think. Now how do you set the video going? Oh, I see, how clever.”
Whilst he was talking I began slowly sawing along the edge of the ziptie, shuffling my feet to help disguise the sound. He continued talking, glancing up at me every few seconds. “Everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes, do you remember that saying? Only now it’s all online isn’t it? All those celebrities on TV famous and for what? For being on other TV shows. Anyone can be famous now and the way I see it, you don’t need fifteen minutes anymore. Six second clips are everywhere. Have you seen some of them? I saw one of a guy pushing his wife off a bridge to splatter on the waiting crowd below. Ten million views. Ten million, imagine that? Child smacked by his dad until he passed out. It was sickening stuff but forty million people have seen it. That kid’s famous just for being beaten.”
“So what?”
“I’m going to top them all. I’m going to put out the best six second clip anyone will have ever seen and your camera is going to help?”
“What are you going to do?”
He ignored my question. “What’s been putting me off has been fear, can you believe that? I’ve tried and tried but I keep backing out but then you came along.”
“What’s so special about me?”
“It’s not you, it’s your camera. Autouploading, live feed, don’t you see? Set this up to go live and there’s no backing out. You have to do it. Your audience will expect nothing less.”
“You’re insane, do you know that?” I asked as I felt the ziptie give a little. I just had to keep him talking for a few more minutes and it’d be frayed enough to break free.
“I hardly think so. Could a madman connect your camera to countless feeds around the world in the time it takes you to settle into your chair? Here we go. Thirty seconds and we go live.”
The red light on the front of the camera began to flash, counting down the seconds. “Live with what?”
“No backing out, no cancelling, I can do this, I know I can.” He glanced across at the table and the first sign of any emotion crossed his face, sheer unadulterated rage. “Where’s it gone?”
“Where’s what gone?” I asked, frantically sawing through the last of the ziptie as his attention was distracted.
“My favourite knife, where’s it gone? It was right there.” He moved over to the table as his wristwatch began to beep. “There’s no time.” I heard the clatter of metal on metal behind me and then he had a long blade pressed to the front of my neck as he stood behind me.
The red light stopped flashing and began glowing steadily. “Six second beheading,” he said to the camera.
Time seemed to slow down as I yanked my wrist upwards as hard as I could, the ziptie snapping and flying into the air. I felt his blade begin to draw across my neck as I twisted the knife handle in my fingers.
One second.
He glanced down and noticed my hand moving upwards, the knife pointing towards him. He tried to move his other hand towards it but he wasn’t quick enough.
Two seconds.
My blade slammed into something solid but giving, the flesh of his neck I saw as I twisted round to look at him.
Three seconds.
His knife caught the edge of my throat, pushing through the skin as I pulled my hand back down, my blade sliding free whilst blood dripped freely onto my wrist. He let out a gasp as I slammed upwards again, plunging my weapon so deep it wedged itself in his neck.
Four seconds.
There was a wet gurgling sound from the hole in his throat as I wobbled the knife from left to right until I caught his jugular, ripping the artery wide open. Blood sprayed outwards, soaking my face and almost blinding me. I saw a blurred image of his hands moving to his neck, doing his best to staunch the flow as it gushed through his fingers.
Five seconds.
I wiped my eyes as he slumped to his knees, a bubbling of blood and foam dribbling from his lips, his mouth silently opening and closing. So much blood. How could anyone have that much blood inside them?
Six seconds.
His mouth stopped moving at the same time as the red light on the camera turned to black. Blood pooled under his head as I breathed in for the first time in what felt like hours. I bumped my chair towards the table, trying to avoid his twitching limbs as I got hold of another knife and sliced through the remaining zipties, feeling wetness trickling down my neck. How badly was I hurt?
I stood up and began crying as I staggered out into the hallway, my legs threatening to give way at any moment, the walls closing in on me, the floor moving up and down as if I was at sea during a violent storm.
I tripped as I got the front door open, stumbling over the step into the snow outside. A drop of blood ran into my eye and I found my voice as I fell, letting out the scream that had been held in since I’d stabbed him. As I lay there, my limbs began to shake, nausea rising up inside me as my vision faded.
Night Terrors: 16 Horror Stories Page 1
