Twisted Shorts: Ten Chilling Short Stories Read online

  TWISTED SHORTS

  ANDREW LENNON

  Copyright © 2015 Andrew Lennon

  All rights reserved.

  The moral right of Andrew Lennon to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  www.andrewlennon.co.uk

  To Mark

  Happy Birthday, Bro. Enjoy

  Table of Contents

  Introduction from Michael Bray

  Nightmares

  Daddy’s Girl

  Slayer

  Externals

  Family Man

  Tears of a Clown

  Time

  Devourer

  Throw a Punch

  The Swings

  An Introduction from Michael Bray

  Whenever I'm asked to write an introduction or foreword to a book, I find it incredibly humbling that a fellow colleague cares enough to approach me in the first place. Those thoughts are quickly replaced by what the hell I intend to write about!

  Nevertheless, when Andrew asked me to write an introduction to the collection you are about to read, I was more than happy to do so. He, like myself, is one of the new breed of authors trying to break through into a business which we clearly love. I feel fortunate to find myself growing alongside such talented individuals, people who I’m sure will become or in some cases are already becoming the go-to names for readers looking for their next favourite writer. It’s exciting to be a part of it, and to see people I class as my colleagues and friends gaining the success they deserve makes me feel confident that the genre we write in is in safe hands.

  Andrew is one of those writers. I haven’t known him personally for too long, although I had seen his work. Like many of my colleagues in the industry, I see in him the thing that links all of us together. The desire to create, to craft stories that will delight, terrify and leave a lasting impression is backed up by one thing which I think separates those who will make it and those wont.

  Hard work.

  Without hard work, without absolute dedication, none of us stand a chance to make it in this industry. There are definitely two camps. Those who want to write a book, and those who do write books. The latter are the ones who sacrifice to do it. The ones who dedicate themselves to the craft and learning its intricacies, to master the subtle art of language, pacing and storytelling. Even mastering it isn’t enough. The drive to take that knowledge and apply it with the fierce determination and desire to be a success, and in turn give something to the reader which is truly memorable is something I definitely see in Andrew. I know from the conversations that we have had recently, during working on a joint anthology called Behind Closed Doors, that he has a feverish desire to succeed. He has all the tools needed to be a huge name in the industry, and I hope this collection is another small step towards that goal.

  For those of you who read and love the horror genre for its ability to make the hairs on the back of the neck stand on end, or to make you pull that stray leg back under the covers for fear something might come out of the night and grab you, I would recommend keeping a close eye on Andrew and the works he releases going forward.

  I know I’ll be watching closely and waiting to see what horrors he produces next.

  - Michael Bray

  Nightmares

  I sat in my car, parked on the driveway. I waited, trying to come up with what to say to Tess, because as soon as I walked into the house she would ask me what the doctor had said. I told her I would go to speak to a doctor about my nightmares because we couldn’t go on like this.

  For weeks, the dreams had been getting worse, affecting her too. My screams, or crying, in the middle of the night would wake her up, and the both of us got more tired and depressed with each sleepless night. I couldn’t tell her I didn’t go to see the doctor after all. But I had to, so I got out of the car and stood there for a second, staring at the front door. I walked along the path to the house. I felt like throwing up. It shouldn’t have been that much of a big deal.

  After standing outside my front door for what was felt like a lifetime, I opened it and walked in. “Tess,” I shouted. “I’m home.”

  I went into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. Next to the kettle lay a note.

  Gone out with Trish and Debra. Be back late, don’t wait up. Dinner in microwave. Love you. Tess. xx

  Great! It gave me until morning to think of something to tell her about the doctors. If I left for work early enough I’d even have until tomorrow night. A lot more relaxed, I opened the microwave to see what dinner would be. Shepherd's pie. My stomach rumbled, but it would take two minutes to heat it. I set the timer and then went to get out of my clothes.

  It took me about thirty seconds. I threw my shirt and pants next to the washing machine, but kept on my boxers. I refreshed my skin with a blast of deodorant.

  PING!

  I took the pie out of the microwave. On my way to the living room I got myself a beer out of the fridge as well. I sat in front of the TV, ate and watched Sports Greatest Mishaps. It was 10.30pm by the time the program finished and by then I’d had more than enough beer, I counted five bottles. It was time to call it a night since I had a plan to get up early to avoid Tess, before she could ask me the question I couldn’t answer.

  I went to bed and hoped that I fell asleep before Tess got home.

  My sleep was interrupted by a loud noise coming from downstairs. I sat up, listened, and looked around. Tess still wasn’t home, evident by her vacated side of the bed. I waited for a moment. I could hear sounds again, not loud this time, it sounded like items being shuffled around in a drawer.

  This wasn’t Tess coming home.

  Someone had broken in.

  I jumped out of bed. I ran down the stairs, bare feet muffled by the carpet, and turned the lights on. Broadening my shoulders and sticking out my chest, I paced from room to room. “When I find you in my house, stealing my stuff, I’m going to seriously kick your arse,” I shouted.

  But there was no one. I checked every room and found nothing. Had it been Tess after all? Maybe she tried to get in the front door and was too drunk. When I opened it, there was nothing. Nobody on the doorstep, no drunken female on the lawn. I glanced down both sides of the empty street, the chilled air making me shiver. Closing the door, I went to the kitchen and got a glass of water, then wandered back to bed.

  I glanced at the clock, it was gone midnight. Tess should be home soon. Still wanting to avoid the whole dream conversation, I tried to get to sleep again. Within seconds, the front door opened. High heels clattered around, and from the sound of it she was at the end of a good night. I lay still and closed my eyes, to look asleep when she came in the room.

  “Who are you? What are…get off me!” Then she screamed

  For the second time that night, I leapt out of bed and raced down the stairs, only this time I knew there was someone in the house, and they had Tess. The screams didn’t stop. They got louder as I approached the bottom of the stairs…only there wasn’t a bottom. Every time I got within two steps, more appeared, like an escalator coming up from my ground floor. I carried on, frustration building, trying to land on the carpet that was just beyond reach.

  "Fuck this."

  I jumped, flew through the air, clearing all the steps and hit the wall next to the front door. I crumpled to the floor, suddenly exhausted. The screaming contin
ued. On the wall in the hallway, I could see two giant shadows fighting and prancing, cast from the kitchen.

  I had to get up and help Tess.

  I scrambled to my feet and ran to the kitchen, the screaming so loud now, like it was inside my head. As I got to the entrance of the kitchen, the door slammed shut. I pulled the handle down to open the door but it wouldn’t budge.

  Tess’s screams got louder.

  I slammed my shoulder repeatedly against it, trying to force my way in. I ran to the other end of the hallway, then sprinted back at the door and braced myself for impact. My shoulder clattered the wooden surface at full pace, and it swung open with a crack. I stumbled into the kitchen, turning as the intruder fled out the back door. I didn’t get a good look at him, but Tess hung over his shoulder like a rag doll.

  He took her away from me!

  I sprinted to the exit, the intruder no more than a dark shadow at the far end of the garden. I ran back into the house, and stood in the entrance hallway. Bewildered, I turned around. Behind me was my front door, which was closed. Tess screamed again, this time it came from upstairs, and I sprinted, taking the stairs two at a time.

  I needed to save her.

  On the landing, I charged into the bedroom, drenched in sweat, panting, like I'd just run a marathon, and landed smack in the middle of a nightmare. Tess lay strapped to the bed, face down, her screams now muffled by the pillow below. On top of my wife sat the most horrendous thing I've ever seen. It had the rough shape of a man, a head, two arms, two legs. But it's skin looked like it had been turned inside out. Patterns, which I’m sure must have been veins and arteries, crisscrossed all over it like bad stitching. It straddled Tess, finding balance atop of my struggling wife, and shoved her face into the pillow once more. Then, it turned its head and looked at me.

  I braced myself, sure this thing would charge me. However, it only stared and smiled, revealing the most brilliantly white teeth I'd ever seen. They were jagged and sharp, like those of a sharks. I was almost mesmerized by them. But then Tess screamed again, breaking the spell. I had to save her. With a scream, I ran at this thing. I held my arms out and jumped across the bed to grab it. Suddenly, I was flying and landed on a hard surface with a clatter. My chin hurt from the impact of colliding with the kitchen floor.

  I didn’t have time to question what was going on as the screaming got louder again, this time coming from the living room. I jumped up and took a knife from the cutlery drawer, then ran towards the screaming. When I reached the living room, the screaming ceased.

  The figure stood in the centre of the room, waiting for me, smiling. Tess wasn’t anywhere near. I gazed at the man in terror. His eyes had shining blue irises surrounded by yellow sclera, instead of pure white. I trembled and wanted to cry, but I couldn’t.

  I had to be strong for Tess.

  “What are you?” I asked

  He continued to stare at me, and then smiled that horrible grin again. He had a look that suggested he knew something I didn’t. What was it? By now, I was sure it was a dream, but what did it all mean? And why hadn’t I woken up yet? This was my fault for not going to the doctors. That’s what Tess would tell me. The dreams were going to get worse all the time until I got some proper treatment. As if reading my thoughts, the creature slowly shook his head.

  “No?” I asked. “What do you mean, no?”

  He continued to shake his head, the smile ever present.

  “Where's Tess?” I screamed.

  He laughed. It almost sounded like a roar and echoed throughout the entire house, shaking it to the very foundations.

  “Stop laughing at me!”

  The laughter got louder, the creatures belly rose and dropped in sync with the booming sound. Then, the room began to shake. He stood tall and strong, raised his hands above his head, arms stretched out, his fingertips almost touching the ceiling.

  “Stop laughing at me!”

  I charged and tackled him. It surprised me at how easily I took him down. When we hit the floor, I crawled on top of him, pinning him to the carpet. His wide, shining blue eyes gazed at me and he still laughed uncontrollably. I had a full view of the sharp, shining teeth as his laugh bellowed throughout the house. I raised my hand high, ready to stab him with the kitchen knife, but it wasn’t there. I put both of my hands around his neck and throttled him.

  Still he laughed.

  I closed my grip around his throat, squeezing even harder. Then his laughter transformed into a strange gurgling sound, followed by crunching and grinding noises. I tightened my grip still. Dream or no dream, this thing was not going to get me. I held my hands around his throat and enforced my vice-like grip. The struggling and bone grinding noises stopped. He was dead, I had defeated it, whatever it was. I let go and rolled over onto the soft floor. Surprised, I reached my hand down to feel it. I lay in my bed now, the nightmare over.

  The light was still on, and Tess lay in bed next to me. I got up, went to the toilet and had a long drink of water from the tap. I rinsed my face slowly and looked at myself in the mirror. That had been one hell of a dream.

  No excuses, first thing in the morning, I would call the doctor. It needed to be sorted out.

  I walked back to bed and grinned at Tess. With a few drinks in her, maybe I could get lucky. I slowly slid the quilt off of her and climbed on top, straddling her in a very similar position to the demon in my dream. I leaned over to kiss her neck, she loved that. My shadow blocked most of the light, but the bruise on her neck couldn’t be missed. I sat up, looking down at Tess. She stared at me, motionless, her eyes wide and glazed over.

  Daddy’s Girl

  Scott stood at the front door, trying to build the confidence to knock. He wasn’t sure how to. What was the protocol? If he knocked too hard would it seem aggressive? But if he knocked too lightly did it show lack of manliness?

  Does a father even think that way?

  He’d been going out with Jane for a couple of months now. She was the first girl that ever made him think that she could actually be 'the one'.

  Tonight is the night he gets to meet her father, the surgeon. Just knowing her father's occupation sent chills down Scott’s spine. Every time he thought of a surgeon, he would remember images from a number of horror films. A pale man in a bloodied apron, wearing a surgical mask with a scalpel in his hand while looking over him, lying bound and gagged on the operating table.

  OK, come on.

  Let’s do this

  Scott raised his hand. This was it. First impressions mean everything. The door opened and a small man wearing a green cardigan rushed towards him.

  “Arghh,” the man screamed.

  Scott jumped backwards in shock, almost falling over.

  The man questioned him. “Who the hell are you? You scared the bejesus out of me.”

  “I’m…um, hi…sir, I’m Scott, Jane’s boyfriend.”

  “Well, nice to meet you, Scott. Even if you did scare me half to death. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I must be leaving.”

  Hmm, well he’s not what I expected. More geeky than scary.

  The man jumped into the red Porsche that was parked on the driveway. The engine roared to life and he drove away.

  “Scott?” Jane stood in the doorway.

  “Oh, hey.” Scott responded, slightly flustered. “How’s it goin’?"

  “What are you doing? Come in.”

  Scott entered the house and immediately knew it was bigger than any house he’d ever been in. Vast rooms, high walls, arching staircases. The only thing he could think of to compare it was the millionaire's house from the move Annie. He had never felt so inadequate. Jane had never said she lived in a mansion. She’d been to Scott’s house countless times. His 'two up two down' felt like a cardboard box now in comparison to this.

  “So do you, like, rent a room here or something? Or is this whole place yours?” Scott asked.

  “Rent a room?” Jane laughed. “Don’t be silly, Scott. This is our home. I suppose it is a bi
t much when it’s only me and Daddy living here, but this house gives him room for his library and his office and stuff.”

  “How the other half live, eh?”

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing. I just didn’t realise you lived in a mansion.”

  “Well, does it matter?”

  “No no, it’s just…I feel….like a peasant." Scott laughed nervously.

  "Oh, don’t be silly! Besides, you know I’m not like that. And Daddy isn’t either.”

  “OK, cool. Sorry, I just thought –”

  “–don’t be silly. Come on in, I want you to meet Daddy.”

  “I think I just met him,” Scott said. “In fact, I think I nearly gave him a heart attack.”

  “Daddy? Heart attack? Don’t be silly. I’ve never seen him shocked by anything in his life.”

  “He was coming out just as I was knocking at the door. He just left in his Porsche.”

  “Porsche?”

  “Yeah. He was rushing out. We scared each other and then he took off in that Porsche.”

  “That’s not Daddy!” Jane laughed. “That was Maurice.”

  “Maurice?”

  “Yeah. He works for Daddy. Like his personal assistant or something."

  The fear rushed back into Scott’s bones after the relief of seeing that funny little man in the green cardigan. Now, he had to go through the whole ordeal again. Jane took his hand and led him through a large double doorway.

  Inside stood a very tall, slim man. His hands held straight at his side. He smiled as Jane and Scott approached. “Jane.” He nodded as he greeted her. “And you must be –”

  “– Scott", he interrupted. Scott rushed forward to shake the man's hand. “Hi, yes sir. I’m Scott. Really pleased to meet you.”

  “Scott, this is Daddy,” Jane introduced.