Haunted Tales: stories from beyond the grave @SamieSands

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Find out what’s going bump in the night with stories and poetry from the most terrifying horror writers; Kevin S. Hall, Cecilia H. Doldan, Nicholas Boving, Stephen Downes, Kody Dibble, June Lundgren, Amy S. Pacini, June Rachelson-Ospa, Justin R. Beeman, Martha Jette, Debbie Johnson, Giselda Woldenga, Anthony V. Pugliese, Matt Mesnard, Rick Eddy, Michele Jones, Linda H. Gerald, Linda Jenkinson, Jake Elliot, Kally Jo Surbeck, Etka Rawat, Mathias Jansson, Will Zeilinger, Delaina M. Waldron, Kimberly Klemm, Trisha Sugarek, Rae Desmond Jones, Jon Ospa and Samie Sands.

Haunted Tales Sample

Cursed Document by Samie Sands

We all stare at each other in turn, wondering who is going to build up the courage to go first. My heart is pounding wildly; I definitely don't want it to be me. We know for a fact that this document is going to impact on humanity forever more. What we don't know is why, or even how.

* * *

The 4^th of July. The day that will change everything. The day America will finally be free of the oppression of the Kingdom of Great Britain. The day its residents will become in charge of all their own laws, finances and freedom. So, as Benjamin Franklin stood there, staring into the reflective surface, he couldn't work out why he was overshadowed by an impending sense of doom. He found himself wanting to stop being silly, to stop letting a crazy homeless, gypsy woman who is suspected of witchcraft, get inside his head, infecting his brain. All he wants is for her words to stop echoing round and round in his mind, haunting his nightmares, sending him to near insanity.
"As soon as your quill touches the cursed parchment, your life will be full of suffering. You’ll experience hell on Earth."
He’d wanted question her further, to find out what she meant by those words. To find out if she was talking about the exact event that is about to transpire. But of course, that would be accepting that she was telling the truth, and that she wasn't just an insane old fool. Suggesting that would have lost him a lot of support from the others, who dismissed her immediately and with no respect. It made him await the next stage of the day as nervous as if he were going to his own hanging.
This was supposed to be the greatest day ever. He had worked so hard to make it happen––to finally allow America to live up to its potential and become the greatest country of all time. This day will be celebrated forever more. The names of the men signing the document will go down in history; Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and of course himself, Benjamin Franklin.
Benjamin took a deep breath, struggling to get it down. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but his weight was really beginning to cause him issues. It was making many things difficult, things that he took for granted beforehand. He no longer enjoyed being in the public eye––feeling that every whisper and chuckle was about him, and that was also having an impact on his emotions this particular day.
He wondered why the other men were so jovial about what was going to happen, did they feel no concern at all? They’d heard what he had, why was he the only one bothered by the straggly haired woman? He’d wanted to back out of the whole thing more than once, but of course that wasn't possible. It was far too late in the day for second thoughts.
He staggered through the door, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. He just wanted the entire day to be over, so he could return to his private chambers to treat his gout and other ailments. As he reached the bench, he noticed that the other two men were already there, dressed in their finest clothing, just as he was. He looked deep into their eyes in turn, and was shocked to see fear, an emotion he was certain was mirrored in his own expression. Maybe the woman's words had had more of an effect on them, than either of the men cared to admit.
Thomas tentatively picked up the quill, trying to keep an unconcerned air about him. Only John and Benjamin could see his hand shaking, his whole body trembling. He made an inane comment, just to steady his nerves, but Benjamin didn’t even hear it. A buzzing in his ears, or possibly his brain, was making it impossible to focus on anything. The sensation that this whole thing was just wrong, would not go away. He was starting to feel nauseated and dizzy, could he really go through with this, or should he follow his instincts?
A voice arose from within him, replying to a comment someone on the sidelines had uttered. It was not him speaking, and he had no idea what the words even meant. They just...sort of rolled from his tongue, as a statement, or maybe a warning.
"Yes, we must, indeed, all hang together, or most assuredly we shall all hang separately."
He didn’t have the time to work out what had just happened to him, because before he could react, the quill had been placed in his hand. His whole body became consumed by a chill, like nothing he’d ever experienced before. His movements felt robotic, almost as if he had no control over them and before he knew it, a whirlwind passed him by and he was back at his home, alone, with just his swirling thoughts for company. Benjamin forced his weary, aching body into the bedroom and before he could remove any of his fancy clothing, he collapsed onto the bed, cold and lonely.
He rapidly stood up, unsure as to where he was and what he was doing. It was pitch black, so he could not grasp anything, to work out what was going on. Suddenly a face appeared, right in front of him, causing him to jump violently. Before he could get any questions out, the person screamed. A high pitched violent scream that scratched on his spine and burst his ear drums. The face then started to swirl and change into something recognisable. His heart stopped beating, for what felt like an entire minute. It was her, the woman, the one who’d made him feel this hideous way. His brain wanted him to scream profanities at her, to tell her what damage she had caused with her careless sentence, but his heart told him to be quiet, to just wait.
Soon, she began to speak.
"You knew, I told you. I warned you about the cursed document. Now you have pressed your signature on it. You have signed your soul away to the devil and can live no more than 50 years. Whatever you do with the rest of your human days will mean nothing, you will suffer pain and anguish for eternity."
The cackling laugh that followed continued for a long time. Benjamin's blood had run cold; his spine had turned frosty. What did this mean? What could he do? He had always been a religious man, but had he somehow turned to the dark side, without even realising it? He didn't want to burn in the fiery pits of hell––no one could ever wish for that! Why was this happening to him, he thought he was doing a good thing? Was making America independent really a bad thing? Or was he being punished for something else? This couldn't be simply a random act from the devil, could it?
Benjamin awoke, covered in sweat, his head pounding as if he’d consumed a lot of alcohol the night before. He quickly scanned the room, pulling the quilt up to his chin. He was truly afraid, more than he had ever been in his whole life. He could not bear to see that gypsy witch again.
To his immediate relief, he was alone. He quickly changed his clothes, John and Thomas in his mind. He needed to see them immediately, to tell them what had happened. He needed to know why, what they’d done wrong. On his way out of the door, he hurried down the street to where the homeless woman had always been sat. He had previously always ignored her, avoided her, but not today. Today he needed answers and he was going to get them if it killed him.
He turned the corner, dread filling his lungs, but she was not there. A strange emotion ran through his veins. It was almost as if he had expected this, but he wasn't sure why. She had always been here, as long as he could remember, and now she just…wasn't. He continued on his journey, trying not to let his brain accept the possible truth about all that had happened.
He found Thomas first. He was pale, drawn and his eyes full of dread. No words needed to pass between them to know that they had both experienced the same thing the night before. Benjamin's lungs filled with a dusty panic that made him cough and splutter. What did all of this mean? It was in this moment that it became clear; the world he had always lived in was filled with more witchcraft, paranormal and demonic presence than he could have ever allowed himself to believe. He didn’t have the slightest clue about what to do with this new found information.
All three men spent a lot of time researching this separately. In private of course, their public perception had to be upheld–– these men were extremely important. Something like this could destroy the foundation that America was being built upon. Benjamin struggled much more than the others, he couldn't stand being around people. He couldn't keep the secret inside, it felt like it wanted to burst out of him, so he made the conscious decision to blame poor health on his new nomadic state. He was, after all an 84 year old man suffering with severe gout, this was hardly unbelievable.
They covered every topic from demons from all the religions to gypsy curses. Nothing seemed to quite fit the description of what this woman had done to them. They couldn't find a single scripture on cursed documents or anything of a similar nature. Thomas and John were ready to give up on the nonsense. They were sure that they had just gone a bit stir crazy due to the enormity of what they had just achieved. They wanted to concentrate on the more pressing issues at hand. They wanted to get on with organising the country; they wanted to reap the benefits of all they had fought for.
Benjamin, however, would not be so easily swayed. He heard all of their arguments, but he knew that there was more to this than the others wanted to let themselves believe. They began to distance themselves from him, worried that he would have a negative impact on them and their work. But they didn't know what Benjamin did. After all, it wasn't them that were being trailed by a shadow.
They would eventually though, Benjamin knew that much, but the more he tried to warn them, the further away they pulled. The shadow was the woman. He didn't know how he knew that, he just did. What he didn't know, was what she was exactly, just that she followed him everywhere, sending cold shivers down his spine at every available opportunity. He knew that she whispered in his ears, when the lights had shut off. Enough terrifying sentences to ensure that he never slept. When he tried to answer her back, to tell her to leave him alone, to apologise for whatever he’d done to her to make her treat him this way, he would be overcome with a sudden shocking inability to breathe. His chest would constrict, his lungs shrivel up, as if two invisible hands were wrapped around his throat, closing his airwaves, sucking all of the life out of him, until he would accept that death was most certainly coming from him.
Then before he knew it, he would be fine again.
Of course, he saw medical professionals about all of this, wishing for a rational explanation. The doctor blamed it on everything from his weight, to the stress of his successful life leading him to panic attacks. This was all balderdash, of course. It was something benevolent, something evil. Benjamin began to regret the day his quill touched the Declaration of Independence––despite all the good that had come from it. He wondered why he was the only one the shadow had attached itself too, unless Thomas and John were keeping more secrets from him, but he couldn't imagine that. The shadow was petrifying, soul destroying; they would feel the need to discuss it, just as he did.
Days became weeks, weeks became months and soon the years began to collapse by. Things never improved for Benjamin, he just learned that he could not change what had become of him. There were times he would fight, he’d argue, scream and shout, but this would never do him any good. The shadow knew everything within his mind, and used it against him. The shadow could cause harm to his body in ways he didn't think possible. He would always be confined to his bed for a long while after one of these battles. He would never prevail; fighting simply caused him more suffering.
Everyone around him began to accept his behaviour, to simply take it as his elderly nature. No one wanted to hear about his everlasting nightmare that he could not escape. He started to consider taking his own life, something that is considered terrible in Christianity, but if he was going to burn in eternity anyway, would it make any difference? In the dream, he had been told he would live no longer than 50 years, they all had, but Benjamin didn’t think he could take another minute of this hell, never mind years. It was starting to reach a time when a decision would have to be made.
So the day came, April 17th, 1790. There was no specific reason for this day. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened; Benjamin had simply reached the end of his tether. He was going to take the shadow down once and for all. He would not allow this thing to be inflicted upon Thomas and John––they had very promising futures ahead of them, futures that didn’t need to be tainted with this personal hell, bringing them down just when they would come to the top of their game. He would murder himself, and the shadow of the evil woman with him.
He’d considered every option with a smile on his face; he couldn't wait to rid the Earth of this demon. He knew however, that he had to be careful with his final decision. He had to think about his life, his children, his achievements. He wanted a death that would not overshadow all of that. So after much deliberation, he decided to secrete rat poison in his nightly whiskey, certain that illness would be blamed for his death, and an autopsy would be deemed unnecessary. He wanted to go peacefully, into whatever was next for him. He had become certain that by doing it this way; the shadow would be stuck in between, in purgatory, unable to infect anyone else.
The shadow hissed violently as that thought passed through his brain, knowing he had decided to go through with his idle planning. She was angry now, furious. This was not how it was supposed to happen; she’d always known she would take Benjamin first, but through her own will, not his. She needed to be in control, she refused to let it happen. She would fight with this man until he was defeated. If that meant today had to be his last, then so be it.
She grabbed onto his throat as a gentle warning, the message clear with her grip, but he simply chuckled humourlessly. This enraged her further. Who did this man think he was? He was so full of his own self importance, as if signing that damn document made him invincible or something, she would soon see to that! She had warned him not to sign the cursed parchment; it was his own idiocy and ignorance that had got him in this position. She’d tried to tell him that the document was cursed. It was nothing to do with the Declaration; it was just the parchment that it was written upon that held an ancient gypsy curse. But men never like to listen to women they consider lower than themselves––well this time, ignoring her would be his undoing. Her talons gripped tighter, and she enjoyed the despair that started to cross his features. “No...no...n...n....”
He stuttered, sure that if he was murdered by the shadow, rather than via suicide, she would be free to do what she wanted. She smirked to herself as the concept went through his brain. She was sure he was correct––she knew she was far more powerful than him at any rate! She remembered the day when she’d taken human form to let the men know about the deep curse ran through the parchment they were about to sign, but they’d simply regarded her with the disdain she had begun to expect from human beings. The memory bought out a new strength in her and she used it against him. Humans knew nothing of the world; they thought they ruled it all. They didn't know that they were the least powerful beings out there, by a long shot.
Stupid humans.
She didn't realised how distracted she had become by her own rage, her internal thoughts, until she felt his body slump beneath her. She had done it, without even realising, she had ended the life of Benjamin Franklin, a long time before she was supposed to. Before panic could overtake her, another sensation shook to her core. A pulling sensation, ripping, tearing, shredding. Her entire shadowy being split into two and she drifted away.
Of course, Benjamin Franklin's death was blamed on a Pluerity attack. It was the most viable option. It was believed by everyone, except the two men, who now knew better. They should have believed his ramblings, should have taken his warnings more seriously, because they too, were now followed by the shadow woman. They should’ve read much deeper into the message sent to them by Dr. John Jones, than anyone else.
"When the pain and difficulty of breathing entirely left him, and his family were flattering themselves with the hopes of his recovery, when an imposthume, which had formed itself in his lungs, suddenly burst, and discharged a quantity of matter, which he continued to throw up while he had power; but, as that failed, the organs of respiration became gradually oppressed; a calm, lethargic state succeeded; and on the 17th instant (April 1790), about eleven o'clock at night, he quietly expired, closing a long and useful life of eighty-four years and three months."
If only they had read between the lines earlier, they would have seen the hidden message. Even the doctor wanted them to know that he was killed from within.
* * *
Decades passed, and many events transpired in both men's lives––outwardly good but terrible on a personal level. They’d learned to get by, they didn’t want to meet the same fate as Benjamin, so attempted to be more compliant with the shadow. It was Thomas who began to succumb to her first; he’d rebelled, just once, simply to find himself fed to some terrible illnesses. By early 1826, toxemia, uremia and pneumonia had him solely confined to his bed, where the shadow would preside over him all the time, whispering obscenities in his ear at every opportunity. He discussed it with John; they both knew that the end was coming. They knew they could live no longer than the 4th July that very year––exactly 50 years since they had signed the cursed document. They could not regret their decision; after all they had contributed to a new, beautiful America.
John Adams issued a statement in June, a moth before the end, unsure on whether he had come up with the ideas and words by himself, or if he had been fed them by the shadow. His uncertainty was apparent in every word.
"My best wishes, in the joys, and festivities, and the solemn services of that day on which will be completed the fiftieth year from its birth, of the independence of the United States: a memorable epoch in the annals of the human race, destined in future history to form the brightest or the blackest page, according to the use or the abuse of those political institutions by which they shall, in time to come, be shaped by the human mind."
Future generations would take this as some kind of warning for his fellow citizens. These assumptions were correct, but no one ever bothered to research into what he was warning about. If they had, what they discovered may have answered a lot of questions that have always faced humanity.
In his last few weeks, John became obsessed with the idea that either he or Thomas would be allowed to live. The shadow had given him the idea of course, desperate for a bit of fun, sensing that both men had become content with the idea of death, and bored by their indifference. She wanted John to sacrifice Thomas to save himself––just to be sent to hell anyway.
This backfired. John was more than willing to be the one who died. He never even told his great friend Thomas about the deal, certain that after the 4th July, his health would improve, and even at 83, he could go on to have a few more good years, confused but grateful to have been spared.
Thomas awoke, a fever ravaging his body, on July 3rd, and uttered the statement he wanted his family to take forth in his memory. He knew his time was drawing near.
"I have done for my country, and for all mankind, all that I could do, and I now resign my soul, without fear, to my God, ––my daughter to my country."
He fell back into a deep slumber, just to awaken a few hours later. He was sure the clock was ticking, certain it must be time. He questioned his doctor if it was yet the 4th. "It soon will be." he was told. A smile crossed his lips as his eyes closed again. Even his nightmares given to him by the shadow couldn't take away the knowledge he has made the full 50 years. At 12.50pm, his life was claimed and his soul dragged by her to an unknown, dark destination for eternity.
John jumped up at the same moment, dread filling his very being. "What's going on?" He yelled "What day is it?" When he was informed that it was in fact the 4th July, he grinned. "It is a great day. It is a good day." The shadow woman was tugging at him, trying to remove him from his body. John was happy to be the one to go, he was happy his great friend could survive. He hoped his sacrifice would be noticed, by his friend at least. "Thomas Jefferson survives." He stated, ensuring his last words were heard by everyone in the room.
He died, not knowing that in fact, Thomas had of course died five and a half hours earlier. What became of the souls of these unfortunate men is not known, we can only assume that the shadow woman still controls and tortures them for daring to ignore and dismiss her and, despite her warnings, put their signatures on the cursed document.

Night Mares @SamieSands

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"It was just a dream, nothing more. Just a nightmare."

Do you dare delve into the unconscious
mind to find out just whay your dreams
are trying to tell you?

Watch out...something is coming!

Featuring...

Rob Shepherd
Andy Lockwood
Katie Jaarsveld
Alex Winck
Valerie Louidis
Kevin Hall
Samie Sands
Jason White
Greg Rickman

Night Mares Sample

Somniphobia by Samie Sands

Come here, lie down on me, Lila. It won’t be so bad, I promise you...
“Shut up!” I scream pointlessly in the direction of my bedroom, it isn’t like the bed is actually speaking to me in that deliciously seductive tone, it’s all just me. Maybe I’ve gone a little nuts recently and my fear of sleeping’s gotten to the point where I can’t even bear to lie down, but I have just about enough of my faculties to know that my bed isn’t talking. It’s all just in my mind.
Just rest, for a little bit. It can’t be so terrible, can it?
I squeeze the side of my head hard with my hands as if I’m trying to block off the blood flow to my brain. I don’t know how to stop these thoughts from rolling through me like a tsunami, but I’m going to have to find a way eventually. I can’t end up going truly mad over this, I just can’t. It’s already consuming too much of my life.
The worst part is I don’t even really know when all of this started, all I know is it has total control of my life now. Not so long ago, a few months I’d say, I was living a normal life. I live in a cute one-bedroomed apartment that I can barely afford on my news researcher wages, I have a small group of girlfriends I go out with on a Friday night, and I just started dating a very sweet man named Brad. That’s a totally normal live for a twenty-four-year-old, isn’t it?
At least it was…until the bad dreams started.
I don’t recall the first one. Or more, I don’t remember exactly what happened in the very first night terror. I can just remember the bolts of ice cold fear shooting through my veins, right to my heart. I was running, but I don’t know what from. I just knew I couldn’t stop or I’d die.
I woke up in cold sweats, but a sense of gratitude that at least whatever I was afraid of couldn’t hurt me in real life. I was almost smug in my happiness as I went through that day knowing that I’d survived whatever had scared me in my dreams.
If only I’d known that was only the beginning.
Following that, the nightmares only got worse. Every single night became a battle against some unknown assailant, a need to get away from something that wanted me dead, a horror so lucid and real that I developed a true terror of even going to sleep. How can I relax knowing that as soon as I drift off into dream land, something’s waiting for me? How can I look forward until the end of the day when I know with utter certainty that I’m diving straight into hell? The thought of putting on my pajamas and stepping under the sheets makes me want to throw up, it causes my lungs to squeeze so tightly I can barely breathe, it makes my heart pound so violently I can feel it about to explode in my brain.
So now, I just don’t sleep.
Maybe to someone else that would seem like the craziest plan in the world, but to me it’s the only thing that makes sense. If I’m not asleep then nothing can get me, if I don’t dive into Hell that my brain has created, then it can’t get me.
Logical.
Only now it’s getting hard. At first I did pretty well surviving with no sleep, I actually felt good. I’d found a way to defeat the demons in my brain, what else could I ask for? But now…well, now sleep is coming for me whether I want it to or not. It’s chasing me down like there’s no tomorrow and I’m honestly not sure how much longer I can keep fighting it.
Come on, lie down. Close your eyes, just for a second.
“No!” I scream while bundling my knees up by my chest. “No, I don’t want to. I don’t want to fight anymore, I’m too exhausted, too tired, I can’t keep fighting.”
You’re tired because you need sleep. You need to rest. You’ve already started messing things up at work.
“No, no, no!” I shake my head violently from side-to-side as I ignore the taunts. It isn’t just work that’s been affected by this mess, it’s everything. My friends think I’m ignoring them because I haven’t been out with them for two weeks in a row. Any minute now they’ll stop talking to me completely. My co-workers think I’m losing it, I overheard one of the girls saying that I’m gonna lose my job any minute. And then there’s Brad.
Ah, dear, sweet Brad.
After six months with the most horrific idiot of all time, a man who thinks cheating is fine and ghosting is even more acceptable, meeting Brad was a brand new start for me. I met him via an online dating app, I never really expected anything to come of it, but instantly we clicked. I could tell he wasn’t going to treat me like the others, I instantly knew he could respect women.
I wanted him to be mine. I still want him to be mine, but that’s never going to happen. What sort of man would want a woman that after only three weeks of dating turns into a hysterical mess? I never told him about the nightmares, I didn’t want him to think that I was weird, and now he must think even worse than that. I don’t care about my appearance anymore, I’ve lost all concern with how I act in public, I’ve forgotten how to behave normally and somewhere in all of that I’ve left him a whole bunch of crazy video emails.
‘I have enjoyed my time with you, but I think we both want different things from life…’
The email where he dumped me was so polite, so him. Instantly I broke into a sob. I can’t blame Brad, he doesn’t understand why I’ve suddenly become a sodden mess, but still I resent him for leaving me when I need him the most.
Can’t he see? Why can’t anyone see?
Come on, just five minutes, that’s all you need…

A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words @SamieSands

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It started with a writing challenge - 1,000 words based on a random image. 18 authors took on the task all in aid of PKDcharity.org.uk and here are the results!

From demons to lost loves, from unsolved mysteries to spooky supernatural happenings read what came out of the imaginations of Jaclyn Ann Lee, Lila L. Pinord, Rob Shepherd, Andy Lockwood, L.H. Davis, James Bryant, Anthony V. Pugliese, Kevin S. Hall, Rick Eddy, Max E. Stone, Dave J. Suscheck Jr., Vered Ehsani, J. Cornell Michel, Michele Jones, Lizzie Wachter, Linda Jenkinson, Kally Jo Surbeck and Samie Sands.

Never will you find such an eclectic collection of stories in one book, but which such a varying collection of writers, what did you expect? All the pictures that inspired these stories can be found at samiesands.com/pictures. Buying this book will not only entertain and amuse you, it will support a hard working charity and might even lead you to discover your new favourite author!

A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words Sample

Ghost Hunter by Samie Sands

As Mary stared at the rundown shack standing in front of her, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She had spent a lot of her life traveling to alleged haunted sites—places she found online that promised terrifying experiences—and had never found anything like what she was looking for. This excursion was shaping up to be no different.
“At least this place is kinda pretty!” She huffed to herself, disenchantment etched across her face. She sat down on a rock near the small waterfall that lay next to the old ruins. Admittedly, she had been to some dreadful places ghost hunting—but what else could she expect? Hauntings don’t tend to occur in brand new shopping malls. That was probably what had attracted her to this particular place. At the very least, she knew that she would be able to get some picturesque photographs for her Facebook page.
She let out a deep sigh as she let her eyes take in the smashed windows, the crumbling brickwork, and the overall creepy demeanor. She wondered how she let herself get suckered in once more. After the abandoned airfield disaster, she thought she was going to stop. Yet here she was, doing it all over again. She knew the answer, of course—Andrew.
Much as she didn’t like to think about him, memories of their brief time together flooded her mind. They met in college and fell in love almost instantly. He was obsessed with the supernatural and she had quickly gotten caught up in the magic of it all. They had actually been planning their first trip, just like this one—to a fabulous ancient house built upon a graveyard—when he was hit by a bus, killing him instantly.
At first, Mary had been numb, acting on autopilot, unable to really function. Then, on the day the trip was supposed to start, she found herself at the airport, as if something else had taken her there. Getting away from all of the direct memories had done her the world of good and something—an unhealthy need to carry this on—made her continue to do so. It had been 10 years since Mary lost Andrew, but for some reason, she just couldn’t let him go.
“You’d have loved this one, Andrew.” She spoke aloud, just as she always did when she was at these sites because she felt much closer to him than normal. “Even if it is just another old building with nothing in...”
Something, a spark of a shadow in one of the old windows, caught her eye and stopped her in her tracks. Mary stood slowly, moving towards the building. Her heart was pounding ferociously and her breathing became labored. Suddenly, she was gripped by fear, unlike anything she had ever experienced before. She didn’t know what had her so afraid after all, she had experienced supernatural possibilities before. But for some reason, this felt...different.
She stepped closer to the building, taking in a large gulp as the soothing sound of the rushing stream suddenly became something much more sinister. The realization hit Mary hard that she was in the woodlands—a place where animal noises should be commonplace. But all she could hear was a piercing silence.
She pondered upon what this weird building, next to a waterfall and surrounded by trees, had been in its heyday. It seemed too small to be a house but bigger than the average shack. Of all the things she had learnt in her research—the terrifying young girl ghost that supposedly haunted the place, the fact that you allegedly wouldn’t survive if she got too close to you, the legends of the many people that had gone into these woods and never returned—she had never actually bothered to find out what the hell this place had been.
As she tentatively peered in through one of the bottom windows, a piece of glass fell through with her fingers. The shattering noise it created sounded so much louder to Mary’s blood pumping ears. She jumped backward violently with the shock of it and struggled to get her breath back.
After looking around the outside of the ruins as far as she dared and giving herself satisfactory confirmation that she was in fact alone, Mary turned back to grab her camera out of her backpack. All she wanted to do now was take some photographs and get as far away from this place as possible. But, she quickly noticed that something was off. Her bag, she knew exactly where she had left it, but now...now the rock was empty.
“He—hello?” Mary called out, unable to keep the shakiness out of her voice.
The wind whistled, but nothing else followed. Mary was frozen stiff. Something about this experience suddenly felt much more petrifying than anything she had ever been through before.
“Who...who’s there?” She called out once more, desperately hoping that the deadly ghost girl wouldn’t appear before her. Maybe all those people really did die—and it was this petrifying feeling that had done it!
Mary slipped slightly on a wet mossy area next to the waterfall as she moved. Her heart was now thumping so loudly that she couldn’t concentrate. Did she need her backpack? Could she just run? No—her money, her passport, all her vital belongings were in that damn bag. No, she was going to have to get it back no matter what.
“I...I don’t know what you want, but I really need at least some of my stuff back.” Mary said, letting out a noise that was supposed to be a laugh, to show that she wasn’t scared at all, hoping that confidence would deter whatever was out there—but the end result just made her seem more afraid than ever.
Abruptly the ground started to shake beneath her feet, almost knocking her to the ground.
An earthquake. It had to be an earthquake.
Mary gripped the rock beneath her tightly as she waited for everything around her to steady.
Still, even after the tremors, Mary couldn’t hear any animal noises. That wasn’t right, was it? Shouldn’t birds be calling out at the very least? Dread caused Mary to make a snap decision, she would leave immediately. Belongings could be replaced—her life couldn’t!
Her eyes fixed on her feet as she quickly walked, her brain focused on the floor beneath her, so much so that she didn’t realize what she was about to come up against until her head smacked against it. Her eyes widened in surprise as her sight traveled upwards.
Whatever she had been expecting, whatever supernatural phenomenon she thought she might find, it certainly wasn’t this. She never, ever even considered this monster as a possibility, and now here he was, holding her bag which looked tiny in his oversized, beastly hands.
Mary’s heart stopped beating as her brain finally deciphered exactly who she stood in front of; the one who she was certain was going to kill her.
“Bigfoot...”

Teatime and Books: AM-13 Outbreak Series: Book 1 - 3 by Samie Sands #...

Teatime and Books: AM-13 Outbreak Series: Book 1 - 3 by Samie Sands #...: AM13 Outbreak Series: Books 1-3 by Samie Sands Genre: Zombie Horror The deadly AM13 virus is taking over the w...

Monster Attack @SamieSands

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Discover the most gruesome beasts from Werewolves to Mermaids and the stories behind them, written by the most talented horror authors. Arnaldo Lopez Jr, Dana Wright, Andy Lockwood, Sharon L. Higa, Kyle Flak, Kevin S. Hall, Josh Walker, Kody Dibble, Matt Mesnard, Mathias Jansson, Lila L. Pinord, John M. Wills, Michael Shaw, Debbie Johnson, Victoria Pagac, Alex Winck, Anthony V. Pugliese, Shakeem Winn, Preston Peet, Randy Attwood, Matthew J. Hamblin, Stefan Vucak, Anthony Modungwo, Cecilia H. Doldan, Samie Sands Vered Ehsani and Robert Tozer.

Monster Attack Sample

7th Gateway to Hell by Samie Sands

The music on the radio fades away to static, which unfortunately means I can now clearly hear all of the strange noises emanating from the engine of this banged up old rental car. I knew the guy who lent it to me was dodgy, but I couldn’t afford anything better. This trip has already cost me my entire mediocre savings.
I let out a deep sigh as the spluttering becomes more of a grinding sound and it isn’t long until the car has come to a complete halt. I bang my fists against the dashboard in frustration. This is slowly becoming just another disaster in the long line of my catastrophic life. I step outside the car and into the blistering heat. My God, America is hot! I think back to the wet and rainy airport in the UK where I was stood only twenty-four hours ago. I can’t believe I have managed to travel so far around the world within that time. If I’d known how easy it was, I might have escaped my crappy existence a lot earlier.
I wonder if my mother has gone crazy with worry yet. I did leave her a note explaining my absence so hopefully, she won’t phone the police. Although after what happened to my younger sister Olivia only months ago, no one would be able to blame her for an overreaction.
I try to imagine Olivia driving past this exact spot, with a group of her friends, happy and carefree on their gap year before starting university. I know for a fact that she came along this road; she emailed me with a photo as they drove. I pull the picture out of my pocket. I passed that exact tree and signpost a few miles back. I re-read the email that accompanies the image for the millionth time.
Hey Annie-bo-bannie,
I miss you super loads! We are having an awesome time though. Wish you could be here – sorry you couldn’t get out of work. We are actually on our way to see something so cool, I’m sure you’d love it. We got talking to a group of guys in a bar last night, and they recommended we go to this tiny little village called Stull. Apparently, it contains a ‘stairway to hell’ or something ridiculous like that. Anyway, it’s supposed to be pretty haunted and full of all sorts of powerful spells––I’m sure it will be a real laugh anyway.
See you in a few weeks. You will have to help me pack for uni, I think I will still be too jetlagged eek!
Love ya forever.
Liv x
Those innocuous words are the last thing I ever heard from her. While she was away, her communication was vague and sporadic so I wasn’t surprised that I didn’t hear anything else before she came home. I was shocked however when I went to pick her up from the airport, and she didn’t get off the plane. None of her group did. They’d had these flights booked for a long time before they even left for the trip. Everything had been so meticulously planned out. In fact, the detour to Stull was the only time I had known them to go off of their strict itinerary.
Afterwards me, my parents and the rest of the kid’s families spent weeks on the phone to the police services, the British Embassy, and the American media. Anything to find a clue, a possibility. Five kids just don’t disappear into thin air like that. It just does not happen. But no one could find even the slightest trace of their existence and I know the search was pretty extensive. Once stories like this get into the newspapers, the police are put under far more pressure.
I knew something was wrong, I knew we were missing something, so I decided to research Stull. This was the last place I knew they’d been so it made sense to check it out. All sorts of weird and wonderful stories came up, just as Olivia had described, but the thing I found most shocking is that there are only about twenty residents in the whole place. Surely someone would have seen them? Someone must know if they made it to Stull and if they’d also made it out. I couldn’t let that fact go. I just can’t move on with my life without knowing what happened to her. She will always just be an unanswered question hanging over my head like a black cloud. Of course, I don’t want to find out she has died, but anything is better than not knowing at all.
Our parents are almost divorced over the whole thing. Mum has gone stir crazy; she won’t stop doing things, even for a second. Cleaning, phoning the authorities, making posters. She won’t ever rest, I’m not even sure if she sleeps. My father has gone the opposite way. He has retreated into his shell. Although he is clearly hurting just as much as the rest of us, mum thinks he has gone stoic, that he no longer cares.
I’m not doing very well either, but then my life was falling apart at the seams anyway, this was just the final push. I lost my crappy job as a waitress because I stopped showing up, my boyfriend dumped me because I’d become ‘no fun––I’m sure he’d been cheating on me for years, I was just stuck in too much of a rut to end things. What a coward. I also started drinking far too much. I needed to do this to try and stop that habit alone.
I stare down the long dusty road that is stretched out in front of me. My heart sinks when I realize that I have no other option but to start walking and hopefully hitchhike a lift. I really don’t want to, you hear so many horror stories about that sort of thing, but I don’t see any other options available to me. I can’t imagine this being on a bus route and that bloody car isn’t going to get me anywhere.
I grab the backpack of belongings that I packed yesterday in a hurry and start walking, my feet pounding against the hard floor. I desperately hope this whole trip turns out to be worth it. I hope I find the answers I’m looking for. I feel like my whole life is balancing on a knife edge and this is the catalyst which will decide which way I fall. I’m not ashamed to admit there is still a small piece of hope in my heart that assumes I will find Olivia alive and well, that I will be able to bring her home and fix everything. Logically I know that I’m most likely wrong, but I can’t force myself to quell that feeling.
Eventually, I hear the noise of an engine rumbling past. I nervously stick out my thumb and let a pleading expression fill my eyes. I haven’t got any water or food with me, stupidly, so I don’t know how much longer I can last out here in the elements. Unsurprisingly the car whizzes past, kicking dust up into my face. I mutter profanities under my breath. Why would someone just leave a young girl alone on the side of the road where she could get raped or murdered? Some people are so inconsiderate.

* * *

It feels like at least an hour has passed before I hear the sound of another car. By this time, sweat is pouring down my forehead, my hair is sticking to my head and I am almost dizzy with dehydration. I wearily stick out my arm, silently pleading with the driver to take pity on me and stop. I shut my eyes expecting to hear the noise whizz passed in the same manner as the previous vehicle, so I’m stunned when it splutters to a stop.
I’m frozen to the spot, unsure of the correct protocol in this situation. I wasn’t expecting this at all. To my relief the door swings open, just missing my cheek as it does. I let out a deep relieved breath and pull myself inside the truck. I turn and smile gratefully at the driver, still panting too hard to form words. He has a large bushy grey beard which covers a lot of his face and a cheered trucker hat pulled over his eyes. I wonder for a moment how he can see the road like that. He is wearing a red checked shirt, with black braces pulled over his shoulders. I almost laugh at the stereotype of this man; I thought these men were a Hollywood horror construct. I’m not afraid; films have never had any sort of effect on me. Olivia was always the one hiding behind the cushions. I lean back against the cold leather seat and listen to the engine rumbling to a start. My eyes immediately feel heavy and I start to drift into sleep.

* * *

Suddenly a gruff voice breaks me out of my slumber. “I am only going as far as Stull little lady. You will have to make your own way from there.”
When my heart finally stops racing from the shock of being woken up in such an abrupt manner, I nod. “That’s where I’m going too so that is perfect, thank you.”
His head slowly turns to face me, and he lifts his hat up so I finally get a better view of his face. I am amazed to see his dark black eyes; they mesmerize me for a second.
“What is someone like you wanting with Stull?” This time any pleasantries have left his tone. He seems strangely angry by my statement.
I start to stutter a reply. “My…err…my sister, and…and her friends were here a few months ago.” Instincts tell me I should start lying at this point, I don’t know why but I go with them anyway. “I am just following her trail, their travels seemed amazing. In a few weeks’ time, we are all going to join together in Florida.” I act as if I’m gushing as if I’m terribly excited about the whole thing.
He eyes me suspiciously, seeing right through my lie. “I think you are wrong. No one ever visits Stull; it’s a tiny village with nothing of interest to tourists. Your sister definitely didn’t come here. Is there anywhere else I can take you instead?”
His change in attitude has me suspicious. Only moments ago, he was pretty insistent that he wouldn’t go further, now he was offering to take me just about anywhere. Obviously, tourists do visit Stull, someone recommended it to Olivia, she wouldn’t just make that up. “Erm…no I’ll be fine. I’m quite tired so I will just find a B and B and carry on my journey in the morn––.”
“There aren’t any B and B’s in Stull. I just told you, it isn’t a place for tourists.” He loudly interrupts me. I start to feel really terrified of this man. I can’t understand his reaction at all. Why doesn’t he want me to go to go anywhere near the place? It all just makes me more convinced that this is where something happened to Olivia. Unwelcome images of murder and torture fill my mind. I wonder if they are all trapped somewhere in someone’s basement tied up, waiting for rescue. My heart starts thumping loudly at this possibility. On the one hand, I could really save them, but on the other, that will take a whole lot of bravery that I’m just not sure I possess.
“Please just drop me off in Stull. I will call my sister from there and rearrange our meet up.” I state this with a very firm tone. My request is reasonable so the man can’t really argue with me. I think I have made it clear that I’m not going to budge on my decision.
We sit in silence for the rest of the trip, the tension thick in the air. I stare out of the window watching the unfamiliar scenery go past. All the time, Olivia is on my mind. I see her passing every feature that I am; I picture imaginary conversations between her and her friends as they whizz past certain things. I am now more convinced than ever that Stull holds the answer. I just know I have done the right thing by coming here. When I got on that plane, I thought it would be a good starting place since it’s the last place I know for a fact that she went; now I am positive that they never left.
Soon I notice an old-fashioned signpost, indicating that we are about to enter the town. A cold chill runs through me as we pass it. I glance around manically, taking it all in. My eyes lock onto a crumbling church and a graveyard that lies beneath it. Once I spot this, I can’t stop staring at it. I know that’s the place they must have intended to go. It’s got a really creepy aura and I’m sure Olivia would have gotten a massive kick out of that. She wasn’t a big believer in the supernatural, although she was very interested in it. Her friends were massive fans and she was always content to go along for the ride.
My vision travels up and down the very long trunk of a pine tree situated within the graveyard. It’s the eeriest thing in the whole place, made worse by the fact that it is growing right through the middle of a gravestone, splitting it in two. I screw up my eyebrows in confusion, why has no one ever done anything about that?
Suddenly I snapped out of my trance by the electronic sound of all the doors locking. I spin around shocked, what is this guy doing? He doesn’t move or acknowledge his actions, he just puts his foot down on the accelerator and the car slowly picks up speed. Within seconds the countryside is whizzing past me faster than ever before and I grab onto the side of the seat, nausea, and bile swilling around in my stomach. I pant heavily, trying to form the words to ask this guy what the hell he’s doing, but for some strange reason, my tongue is twisted, my lips frozen. I’m utterly convinced I’m about to die and I can’t even bring myself to scream.
Just as my brain has slowly melted and has given up on any hope of surviving, the car halts to a stop, the doors all unlock and I am shoved through the door. As I slump to the floor, unable to work my limbs, the guy’s sinister face looms over me and he whispers while spitting. “Just keep on walking girl. Don’t even think about turning around and heading back towards Stull. We don’t want you there and you sure as hell don’t wanna be there.”
I lie on the hot, sandy ground, quietly weeping. I have no idea what just happened, or why, but I have never felt so close to death in my whole life. Despite that, the utterly terrifying man has me more determined to find out the truth about Stull than ever before. Why would anyone be so desperate to get rid of me? I guess that he thought by frightening me, I’d run off like a scared little girl. Little does he know, I don’t exactly have a lot to live for anymore. I can’t continue until I know what has happened to Olivia. I can’t continue in this limbo, so something needs to happen, whatever it may be. However, much I am putting my life in danger.
I heave my weak body off of the ground and turn back to walk the way I have just been warned against. I have more resolve in me now. I will solve this mystery; no one else will get in my way. My mouth is burning with dehydration and my stomach is agonizingly empty. I need to fuel myself soon or I’ll die out here for sure. I pass the signpost, alerting me to the edge of Stull, and a strange thing happens to me as I am next to it. A loud whisper fills my head. It’s made up of far too many voices for me to work out what it is saying, but I don’t need to understand to feel the evil. I shake my head before carrying on; it’s just exhaustion playing mind tricks on me. I can’t let myself be distracted. As soon as I find a shop, I will be able to sort myself out.

* * *

Except, after I have trailed up and down a few times, there doesn’t seem to be any shops. I start to panic, wondering what I’m going to do. I only have a few items of clothing in my backpack, I figured I’d find somewhere to stay with no trouble, or I’d at least have a car to sleep in. Now I have nothing.
My attention keeps flicking towards the church and graveyard. It’s a bit like a magnet that I can’t stop myself from being drawn towards. This time, however, I see a lone figure of what looks like a young lady, just stood there. Before I realize what I’m doing, my feet have taken control of my body and I’m walking towards her. I am stumbling along, almost as if I’m sleepwalking, staring at the woman, rapt. I don’t feel like I have any power over myself.
It isn’t long before I’m stood right in front of her. I snap out of my daze at the very moment she turns to look at me and panic courses through my veins. That man couldn’t have made it more obvious that tourists weren’t welcome here in Stull, so how is she going to react to me? Surprisingly, she smiles brightly in my direction.
“Can I help you?” She is softly spoken and sounds particularly kind. When I don’t immediately answer, she edges carefully towards me and reaches an arm out to touch my shoulder. As soon as our skin meets, a calming sensation runs through my whole body. I suddenly feel extremely comfortable around her, as if we have known each other for years. Before I can stop myself, my whole sorry saga has spilled out of my mouth and tears are leaking from my eyes. I have become so dizzy and dazed that I no longer know what I’m doing at all. Taking pity on me the woman rests my head upon her shoulder and takes me into her small cottage nearby.

* * *

One I have food and water in my system, I feel much better. My head has cleared and I feel more awake. I feel regret that I told this woman everything; from Olivia’s disappearance to the crushing disappointment that has become my life. I wonder how much she judges me. Instead of dwelling on my problems, I try and grab an opportunity. I ask the woman about the church and its surroundings.
To my utmost relief, she laughs. “Oh, I suppose you have been fooled by the rumors as well? The Internet has a lot to answer for.” I laugh guiltily. “Yes, we have become quite the beacon for fans of witchcraft and the occult. They seem to think that although the church has no roof, it never rains inside and that it contains all sorts of links to the devil. It’s madness – just some silly story someone came up with a long time back. Unfortunately, nothing exciting ever happens here, we all inherited our houses from generations back and cannot
afford to leave. That’s all.”
Of course, she’s right; I hope she doesn’t think I actually bought into any of that nonsense. I was just curious. “There is one other thing….” I wonder if I should take it this last step. The way she is looking at me, I can’t help but trust her. “This guy picked me up a few miles back. He was really weird about me coming here; he pretty much tried to force me to leave…”
“Oh, that’ll be crazy old Bob.” She interrupts quickly. “Take no notice of him, he has lived far too long and become a grouchy old man. I remember in the old days––he actually used to be good fun! No, he just gets sick of all of the thrill seekers coming here trying to catch a glimpse of the devil. The graffiti and cause damage to the headstones. It really has become a nightmare; all our relatives are buried there so it’s hard sometimes to not take it personally.”
I try and push my uneasy feelings aside and take her at her word. He is just worried that I may have come to deface something. Even as I think these words, they seem hollow and fake.
I am over the moon to be offered a bed for the night, just as the fatigue is really beginning to kick in. As I walk into the room, I can barely keep my eyes open. I crash down onto the camp bed, not even bothering to clean my face or change my clothes. This day has been one of the longest in my entire existence. My brain shuts off before my head hits the pillow.

* * *

Suddenly I’m in the garden outside our old house, messing about with Olivia. We are sat on sun loungers, trying to get a tan and drinking cocktails. She is telling me a funny story about a terrible date she recently had and I am laughing loudly to her words. She looks at me and her facial features begin to change. They twist and turn, going green and black. Her words become evil whispers and growls. She stands up, looming over me; her fingers have become claws which pierce into my neck. Pain radiates down my entire left-hand side and blood spurts out everywhere. Her sharp teeth come towards my face and spittle is flying out of her mouth. She opens wide, showing me all of her insides and clamps down onto my head.

* * *

I jump up, gasping for air. My heart is racing and my brain is whizzing faster than it’s ever gone before. I gulp down some water which has been thoughtfully placed on the nightstand and the realization that the whole thing was a dream finally hits me. I look over to the clock, 2.30am. Typical, bloody jetlag, now I’m more awake than ever. I won’t be able to switch off now, so I may as well get up. I quickly change my clothes and take a walk around the tiny house, looking carefully at all of the odd knickknacks. Outside one of the windows, the full moon sits right on top of the church, illuminating it very brightly. It’s so intriguing, and it’s practically daylight over there.
On a whim, I decide to go and visit it right now, while it’s still night time. I might as well use the time I am awake usefully and I’m less likely to be disturbed or spotted at the hour. I’ll be back before my host wakes up so I won’t even have to explain my absence. I quietly click the door behind me and spin around in the cool, crisp air. It’s such a change in temperature from earlier today, but it’s much more pleasant and refreshing now. Preferable to an English girl like me, who is very used to the cold.
I try and keep my steps light and quiet as I walk, the last thing I want to do is alert anyone else to my presence. I need to do this by myself, to find out as much as I can about Olivia’s visit. If I could just find some sign that they were here and maybe even a clue that they also left, I can move on quickly. I am pretty sure that according to their plans and location, they would have headed to Oklahoma next. If it comes to it, I am more than happy to go there next. In fact, I’d much rather be there than here, even if that search will be like finding a needle in a haystack.
The air seems to get colder, the closer to the church I get. Chills run up and down my spine. My mind goes fuzzy and my senses heighten. I feel like something strange is here. The grass is icy and crispy beneath my feet; the gravestones are deteriorating, crumbling away before my very eyes. The mist clings in the air as if a magic force is keeping it still. I try and picture Olivia in this place, I try and imagine the boys that sent them here, what the hell were they all thinking? This place is nothing, just a normal graveyard in a tiny village. But at the same time, there is something very unusual about it. It’s a pit of evil. I don’t know what makes me feel that way, but I can’t stop it.
I walk inside the small, insignificant crumbling church wondering what is supposed to be so important about this place. Buildings like this are so common near where I live and no one pays any attention to them, so I can’t see how this would be different. But as my feet pass the threshold, something shoots through me. A peculiar, invigorating sensation. I spin around trying to see whatever could have caused it, but I’m faced with nothing. Maybe I just imagined it? Maybe I created that feeling through my own fear.
“Hello?” I timidly call out, unsure if I am going to seem crazy. Silence. Yes, I’m just imagining things. I need to get a grip on myself. I continue to step forward. The air seems thick around me. There’s no wind, no breeze, no nothing. In fact, the atmosphere is completely non-existent. As I run my fingers along the brickwork, shoots of electricity burning through my skin. I pull my hand back gasping and suck on my fingers trying to take away some of the sting. I push my way outside, gulping in air and desperate to escape. The change in atmosphere is so dramatic; I can’t get my head around it. As I stand there, staring into the building, confused by my experience, a scream cuts right through me. I recognize it immediately.
“Olivia!” I cry out. She’s here? I can’t believe it. I’ve actually found her. “Olivia, where are you?” My heart starts racing at the prospect of seeing her again, of rescuing her and getting the fuck away from here. “Olivia, come on, where are you?” I rush into the church eyes darting side to side. No one. “Olivia, come on now, come out?! Liv?”
“Annie? Annie help!” I spin around rushing towards the voice. “Annie!” I don’t know what to do; it’s coming from everywhere, all around me. The scream is high pitched and terrified. What is going on here?
I rush around to the back of the building, pushing my hands over my ears to block out the sound. It’s distracting me, confusing me. Tears start to roll down my cheeks and I can’t stop them. Something bad has happened to Olivia, I can tell. I have never ever heard her scream in that way and sound so frightened. What if crazy Bob has her trapped somewhere? What if he’s been doing nasty, unspeakable things to her?
“Annie, what are you waiting for, please….?” Her voice fades away into nothing. I can’t stop the scream that bursts out of my chest. I’ve lost her; I’ll never find her now. My knees give way and I hit the ground with a thud. My mind starts blurring and my vision goes funny. I try and cry out but everything just spins into blackness.

* * *

I wake up, a sticky, warm liquid holding my hair to my face. I touch it and realize that it’s red and clumpy. Blood. How is my head bleeding? I didn’t fall that badly. I try and sit up, but the throbbing becomes too much. What has happened to me? Did someone do something to me as I was passed out? A figure comes slowly into focus. A shadowy, dark person. Fear immediately shoots through me and I try and scoot backward, trying to escape. A voice starts circulating in my confused brain. I try and yell, but my throat is dry and nothing but a low groan comes out.
“Hey, hey…” The voice eventually penetrates my shock barrier. I recognize this voice. Where from? I try and sit up; my body feels weary and broken but I don’t know why. Have I lost a whole chunk of time somewhere along the line? Is that possible? A hand reaches out to me and grabs me before I have a chance to recoil. Finally, I get a clear view of who it is, the woman, the lovely lady who let me stay at her house. Grateful for a familiar face I grab her and pull her in for a hug. I’m not an overly affectionate person with anyone so this display shocks even me. I pull back, ready to thank her profusely when I notice something almost alien about her. Her irises are completely red.
As I back away further I can see she is wearing very strange attire. Almost that of a stereotypical witch. I laugh nervously, is this some sort of trick? “I––” I try and stutter out words, but they get caught in my throat. I feel as though something has grabbed hold of my voice box, warning me not to speak.
“Tonight, he is coming tonight.” This time her voice is very different. In fact, it could almost be six people speaking all at once. I cock my head to the side confused. What is she doing? Is she trying to freak me out? I really don’t need her to do that, I am doing it well enough to myself.
“Who––?” I decide to humor her for now. She stares at me but doesn’t answer. “Who is coming?”
“The great lord. The great master.” This puzzles me; I guess I didn’t assume she was a religious woman. There was no Bible or cross in her house. Is she talking about the second coming of Jesus?
She disputes this thought before I can even voice it. “I’m talking about Satan, the great lord of the underworld.”
“Um…ok lady; I’m just going to––” I point randomly behind me and turn to start walking. I don’t have time for all of this. The loving tone in her voice as she spoke about the devil made me feel sick. Wasn’t she the one who was mocking this very idea only hours earlier? A finger tapping on my shoulder causes me to spin back, but to my surprise, she is nowhere near me, she is much too far away to reach me. She is pointing up to the top of the pine tree, so without thinking I follow her finger. There I see a vision of her hanging limply from the tree, blood dripping to the ground. The black coagulated blood falls onto the split gravestone that sits below.
“No…no…” I glance wildly back and forth. Even though she is upon the tree, she is also still stood next to me cackling madly. “What…what are you? What is all of this?” She shakes her head at me as if I am missing the point entirely. “Do you have Olivia?” I finally whisper. It hits me that whatever the hell is wrong with this place, this woman obviously knows all about it. Why didn’t she just tell me before?
“She’s gone.” The woman states as if it completely obvious. Spotting my confused face, she continues. “No one who goes down the steps comes back up. Once you have entered the great lord’s realm, you cannot simply return to Earth.” My facial expression must show my disbelief. “He has her now.” She says this with a comforting tone as if I have just received some good news.
“Do you mean my sister’s dead?” I feel hysteria rise up through my body. Whatever I expected to find when I came here, this was not it. Not at all. Of course, a small part of me was mentally prepared for bad news, you have to be when someone has been missing for months on end––but this just makes no sense.
“Just because she’s gone” Her tone becomes soft and loving. “Doesn’t mean she’s dead. I myself only get to see my child twice a year, Halloween and the Spring Equinox. You are very lucky to be here for one of these visits. He spends most of his life in the realm where his kind is accepted readily. Humans just don’t…understand, if you know what I mean.” She winks at me and I pull a disgusted face back. I have no idea what she means. I haven’t had a clue since she opened her mouth in this graveyard.
A rush of regret overcomes me. This whole trip was a mistake. I should be at home, trying to fix my parents problems, trying to sort out my own life. Being here, in this nightmare isn’t going to solve a single thing. Why did I ever think that it would? I’m not needed here; I’m needed miles away, in England. The woman’s nails rip into my skin, firmly holding me in place. I can almost feel them growing, embedding themselves deeply within me. My heart is pounding in my mouth and my palms are thick with sweat. I wish I knew what to do, I wish my legs weren’t frozen to the spot.
Suddenly a howl in the distance seems to distract the insane woman; she turns away from me, seemingly unaware that she is releasing me as she does. Blood trickles down my shoulder from the holes she has pierced and its agony. Unfortunately, I still can’t get my legs to move, so I decide to try a different tactic.
“Erm…what was that?” My mouth is so dry, the words come out parched and cracked.
“It’s him…my son.” She replies. I wait for her to continue, I sense that she is going to whether I speak or not. “He’s here. He’s finally here.” She claps her hand together in excitement. “His father will soon follow,”
“Who…who is his father?”
“The dark lord of course.” She says this as if I’m completely stupid. Maybe I am, maybe I should have guessed that a lot earlier. “That’s why he isn’t suitable for this land. Werewolves are hunted savagely by humans. Even though I know my little one could defeat them all with no problems, I wouldn’t want to put him through the persecution.” She turns to face me again, her eyes shining with joy. “So instead, for the last three hundred and fourteen years I have come to the site where he was conceived, and the spot where I was hung for crimes of witchcraft, and we all meet. It’s a sacrifice any mother would be willing to make of course. My son’s happiness is the most important thing.”
Ok, this woman is definitely crazy. She seems to believe that she is some sort of witch-ghost with a werewolf son who was fathered by the devil. That’s the weirdest story I have ever heard. I don’t know why I allowed myself to get sucked into her nonsense. I’m normally more level-headed than that. The desperation to find Olivia has sent me into a sort of madness. My legs free up, so I mumble something under my breath and start to walk away. She is too distracted to follow. Her fantasy werewolf son and his devil father have taken over her mind.
I shake my head as I continue to move. It must be living in such a small community. Nothing ever happens, so she has been forced to create her own amusement. I look up from my feet and notice that although I have been walking in a straight line for quite a while now, I have not yet left the cemetery. How is that possible? I start to focus on my steps, but that doesn’t make any difference either. I’m somehow walking round and round the crumbling church, always stopping in the same place.
I keep going, unsure of what else to do. Suddenly something catches my eye. A large bush, which seems to be covering up some sort of secret. I have a strange feeling that it will answer all of my questions. I think about Olivia, also finding this. Her voice screams out again, but this time it doesn’t distract me. It’s only in my head after all. I brush the leaves to one side, watching them crumble beneath my fingertips, turning into brown ashes before my eyes. I can’t believe what they reveal.
Steps.
The steps. The ones I read about, the ones the crazy witch lady said Olivia went down. The supposed ‘Seventh Gateway to Hell’. I look down the deep dark hole that the steps travel down. I call out quietly. “Hello?”
“Hello? Hello?” A panicked voice calls out in reply. “Annie, is that you? Annie help us, please! We’re stuck down here and we can’t get back out.” My heart drops through my stomach. Olivia.
She’s here, she is really here. Her and her friends just got stuck doing something stupid. How they’ve survived for so long I’ll never know. Against my better judgment, I tenderly place my foot on the first step, but before I can apply any pressure, the entire thing crumbles beneath me.
The screams echo throughout the entire town. “Olivia? Liv are you ok? I’m sorry I don’t know––”
Before I can finish my sentence, fingertips grab my ankle and pull lightly. I stand there frozen, confused and panicked. What the hell? Suddenly, I snap into action and grab the hand. I pull it with full force, and the body that materializes from the ground looks very familiar. One of the girls from Olivia’s group, Kyra I think her name is. I grab her and hug her without even thinking. I’m just so relieved to see someone normal, someone, on my side, but instead, she dissolves in my arms. Grey ash covers my whole body and sobs scream through me. What the hell is happening now?
More fingers follow, but these are brown, lumpy and covered in slime. A rotten stench fills the air and I back away slowly, unsure if I’ll be able to escape. Before my disbelieving eyes, a disgusting monster materializes. The brown lumpy beast grows much larger than a human and bile rises to tip of my tongue. I can’t grasp that this is reality. This is really happening. Things like this aren’t just from books and films. Yellow teeth bear down towards me. My brain is screaming at me to run, but still, my legs feel sluggish. A loud screeching sound bursts from its mouth, forcing me to cover my ears as the noise gets progressively louder.
I look around and see a group of people have gathered. The locals, it must be. “Help!” I cry out to them as I am backed into a corner. “Help me.” A figure moves towards me, a man. The one that tried to make me leave. He shakes his head sadly at me, and I grasp his meaning immediately. He knew all along what happened to my sister, he knew the same would happen to me if I stayed. He wanted to help, he tried to. He was actually the good guy. I wish he had just told me, but of course I wouldn’t have believed him. Who would believe this? I nod knowingly at him. I want him to know that I understand. This isn’t his fault, he tried to warn me, but I was too stubborn to listen to his hidden meaning.
More of the monsters follow, as if that screech was summoning them. I wonder if these are the devil’s minions, I wonder if he really is on his way up to Earth. I try to run, I try to find an escape but there isn’t one. I don’t want to be here to witness any more. One of the locals grabs me, pinning my arms behind my back. A sultry voice whispers in my ear. “You can’t go now; the best bit is yet to come.”
I thrash, I struggle, but all to no avail. I’m stuck. I’m going to die here as a sacrifice, just like Olivia. I tell myself to calm down, to accept my fate with pride. There is nothing left I can do to save myself so I can at least die with dignity, but my mother’s sobbing face keeps running through my mind. This will tear my parents apart for sure. Their marriage will never survive the loss of another child. I whisper the word “Sorry” even though I know there is no way they’ll hear it.
The devil rises. He looks nothing like I expected, he is far more terrifying. He is brown, lumpy and slimy, just like the others, but he is so much bigger, with a much more petrifying aura. He switches and changes shape on a whim, as if to prove to us all that he is not restricted by bones and bodily structure that us mere mortals are. Cheers rise up from the crowd as he performs to us. Blood splatters across the town with every movement he makes. It seems to be a big exciting event for everyone involved. The minions all gather at his feet, the witch and her werewolf son join the town’s people. Everyone is gathered here for the spectacle.
The woman pushes me forwards and I fall roughly to the ground. My knees throb, and my head is in agony. He lifts me high above the ground; a tentacle is wrapped around my torso. I try and force my emotions away, I want to remain calm, but it is impossible in such a bizarre, life-threatening situation. I try and imagine this happening to Olivia. Did all the locals stand and watch her death as they are mine? Don’t they feel guilty for what they’re doing?
A tearing sensation, a ripping occurs down at my waist. I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to stay silent, but a scream bursts through me. The agony, the pain. I’m on fire. I try and wriggle my toes, but they are no longer there. My whole body has been ripped in half and yet my brain is still switched on. I feel weak and woozy. I can hear the braying cheers below. I look down to try and focus on the people– –how can they just allow this to happen? Don’t they want to stop it?
Then I remember what I read online with skeptical eyes. They are forced sacrifice twice a year to stop the evil spreading into the rest of the world, to prevent the devil from going on a rampage and consuming the entire population. If this weren’t happening to me right now, I would be forced to think of them as the good guys. That’s why only a few of them can bear to stay––to carry on the legacy of their town. To keep the rest of the world safe.
Sharp teeth sink down into my neck and one last tear falls down my check. Soon I am rushing down, down the steps, down into hell where I will stay for eternity, reunited with Olivia at last.

The Attic Ghost: AM13 Outbreak Series Samie Sands

The Attic Ghost: AM13 Outbreak Series Samie Sands: AM13 Outbreak Series: Books 1-3 by Samie Sands Genre: Zombie Horror The deadly AM13 virus is taking over the ...

Tales of Horror on Halloween Night @SamieSands

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"Don't get cocky,
Happy Halloween."

Rob Shepherd
Victoria Pagac
Rick Eddy
Linda Jenkinson
Kyle Flak
R.M. Gibson
Brandon Swarrow
Justin Coke
Kevin S. Hall
Dean Kuch
Dave J. Suscheck, Jr.
Samie Sands
Georgina Price
Nicholas Boving
K.C. Finn
Anthony Pugliese
James Harper
Andy Lockwood
Amy S. Pacini
James Bryant
Cecilia H. Doldan
Manus Tor

Tales of Horror on Halloween Night Sample

Funeral by Samie Sands

My eyes dart around the room, wondering how exactly I got here. I shake my head trying to find a memory in there somewhere, anything will do. Nothing, just a blank darkness. I try to work out what is going on. By scanning the room, I realize everyone is sat on wooden seats, wearing black and crying. Oh. That doesn't exactly suggest anything fun now does it? In fact, it makes me feel positively morbid.
I try and locate anyone I know, thinking that will help jog my mind. I feel like I sort of recognize everyone, but I don't know where from. I squint my eyes, turning away from the blinding sunlight that is streaming through one of the stained glass windows, just to be faced with a priest at the front, giving a speech of some kind. I try to listen to his words, but there is a buzzing in my brain that is louder than anything else.
I want to stand up, to get a proper look at everyone, but I can just sense that would be extremely inappropriate and I don't want to draw any attention to myself. An elderly lady is sat next to me; I look at her for a little while, drinking in her appearance. She looks friendly enough, I'm sure if I quietly ask her she won’t yell.
“Hey, um...I just wanted to know what we're all doing here. Sorry I know that's a bit...”
I don't know how to finish my sentence, so I just let the words hang in the air. She turns to look at me, she stares right into my eyes for a moment, a strange expression crosses her face, before she is too overcome with grief and she starts sobbing loudly. I am embarrassed by her reaction, and turn to see if anyone is looking. I can feel the blush running right through my body, but everyone else is too consumed in their own thoughts to care.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, wondering how long this will all go on for. The longer I'm here, the more annoyed I'll become. Luckily, it's only moments later that everyone stands up and begins to exit the building, which I am now absolutely certain is a church. I follow along, unsure of what else to do. I try and meet people's eyes as they leave, but no one looks up from the floor, even for a second.
A chill runs right through me as the coffin passes where I'm now stood, and the buzzing that was bothering my brain before becomes and all consuming whisper. I push my hands over my ears, trying to block it out, but the more I try to ignore it, the clearer the words become. Soon I can't focus on anything else.
“Filius meus es opus in inferno. Venite ad me.”
I don't have any idea what the words mean, but I desperately want them to stop. I don't know what it is about the strange language, but it feels evil. I look around to see if anyone else can hear it, but worryingly it appears to only be me. I rub my head angrily, wondering if I'm going insane or something.
As soon as I set foot outside the building, it's as if the volume turns down. I can still hear the low gravelly voice murmur, but only very lightly. I can concentrate on other things at the same time. We walk out into the graveyard. Surrounding by head stones, I really start to panic about why I am here, and why I can't seem to remember a single thing of my entire life before entering the church today. It doesn't seem right.
The priest says a few words and then a woman goes on to make a eulogy to someone named Kate. This name doesn't ring any bells at all. I'm starting to think I really don't belong here. I would just sneak off if I have any idea of anywhere I could go. The only thing that keeps me rooted on the spot is that this is the only place that I know.
Until my memories come back, this could be the only place in the world as far as I'm concerned.
Suddenly a girl, about my age steps into my peripheral vision and I am knocked backwards with a memory. It's only brief, and it tells me nothing, but it is so powerful it hurts my chest. We were arguing, screaming in each other’s faces. I don't know when or what about, but we were really going for it, people surrounding us chanting something over and over. I wonder what that means? Is she an enemy? A friend who I had a falling out with? She looks so serene now, but the anger in her eyes that I saw in the memory, keeps repeating through my mind.
And just like that, other faces begin to send visions into my mind. It's like a film playing, showing the scenes only to me. A flash of a young girl tugging the head off one of her dolls, a pre-teen kicking a dog that won't stop barking and always lots of screaming, lots of shouting.
I stagger backwards in shock. If the girl I could see is really memories of myself, then it appears everyone here truly hates me. But why? What did I do? Maybe I should get out of here before I manage to cause another row somehow.
“Actum est abunde! Tu surge, et vade prius venire ad me cogor.”
The voice screams in my ear so loudly that I jump and yell out. When no one comes to my aid, or even glances in my direction, I quickly realize. It hits me so hard I can't believe it has taken me this long to figure it all out. This is my funeral. I must be Kate. My chest constricts tightly as I struggle to get air down my throat. I'm dead? But why? How?
I look around at all the faces until I locate the one I am searching for. That woman, the one who spoke before, she must be my mother. So why don't I recognize her? Surely, out of everyone my own mother would be a face I know?
I walk over to where she is sat, getting very close to her, studying her face in great detail. Now I am certain no one else can see me I am no longer afraid of what I do. What is the worst that could happen to me? I'm already dead after all.
Nothing comes to mind at first, in fact I almost start to doubt my theory when she looks up at me and meets my eyes. It's almost as if she can see me, right into my soul, and she doesn't like what she sees at all. In fact she looks positively livid. That's when another image violently enters my brain, stopping me in my tracks. It's one of this woman, chasing after me, screaming and crying, before a man behind her overtakes, a baseball bat in hand. She is screaming at him to stop, screaming profanities at me. None of it makes any sense. I can't work it out at all, what is any of it supposed to mean?
I look around wildly trying to locate the man who was chasing me, but can see no sign. I am disappointed because I would have liked to finish that vision. I would like to know exactly what that man did to me with that baseball bat, and why. Wait a minute, is that why I'm dead? Did that man really kill me? Why did this woman, my mother, allow that to happen to me?
I step back from the crowd, overwhelmed and trying to work out the truth. Was I really murdered? I guess that would explain why I died so young. More importantly, why am I still here? Surely I should have 'moved on' by now? Surely it's only souls with some sort of 'unfinished business' that stay behind? I don't even know who I really am, how could I have something left over that I need to do?
“Iter facientem non vestrum me canis, utere atque officere circa finem. Ibi vere non vis venire.”
That voice again. What is going on here, seriously? It's all starting to piss me off a bit now. And terrify me all at the same time.
“What do you want?” I scream at the top of my lungs. I just need this hell to be over with now. “What do you want from me? What am I supposed to be doing here? I don't even know any of these god damn people.”
That's the moment that the tears start to flow, and once they have begun, I can't seem to find a way to stop them. It's one thing to just discover you are dead, it's quite another not to recognize anyone at your funeral. And on top of that I may have been killed? It's all too much to take in at one time.
I detect breathing behind me. I spin around; wanting to know who else has broken from the crowds like me, unable to cope with all of the raw emotion. It is a small woman, she in hunched over as if she is trying to disappear completely. I move over to her, entranced by her presence. She has an aura about her that I can't help wanting to be close to.
She is sniffing, but not crying like the others. I try talking to her, just as an experiment. For some reason I feel connected to her and I thought for a second that maybe she was just like me. ‘In between’—whatever that means. When she looks up and I see her eyes for the first time, the most powerful image of all racks through my body.
This woman is on her knees, holding on to my bleeding, broken body. She is screaming and wailing uncontrollably. “Why Donna, why? If you hadn't of done all of those awful things....”
I look at her confused. What awful things does she mean? And who is Donna? Then I see it. More vision, but these are much more sinister. Me, slicing the arm of a much younger boy with a razor blade. Me, with my hands around the neck of a girl who is sobbing and pleading with me to let her live. Me, pushing an elderly man from the top of a cliff, all for no reason.
“No, no, no!”
I cry out, backing away slowly. This cannot be happening, it just can't. Someone is putting these images in my mind, they must be. They aren't real, I am nothing like that, there is just no way. If I was a cold blooded killer, I would know about it wouldn't I?
I fall to the floor, overcome. I can now see with clarity that this woman is my mother, and that I'm Donna, not Kate. Who the hell even is Kate? I look towards the crowd, where the coffin is being placed in the ground and finally see the oversized photo of the girl who this funeral truly belongs to.
I'm transported to somewhere strange. The knife is in my hand, covered in blood and I laugh loudly. The feeling I get from this sight is overwhelming, it's a rush that nothing else will ever match. I have tried other vices; drugs, shoplifting, casual sex. None of them carry the same orgasmic rush as watching someone’s life slip away from them by my hands. Taking this precious gift away from someone is the most powerful a human can get. It takes you to an almost god-like status. I look down, at the bloody mangled body that lies at my feet, and give it a kick for good measure. I hear the door swing open behind me and even though I know I'm about to be discovered, I don't care. The eyes are so familiar. The eyes are of the girl who is in the coffin today.
My heart stops beating at that moment. It's all true, all the horrible things I saw myself doing are real. I'm evil. I have killed and maimed so many. What the fuck is wrong with me? Where did I go so wrong in life? What would posses me to become that monster?
I look up to my mother, but she is already gone. Probably hiding away from the shame of having a murderess daughter. Now I understand why that man, Kate's father, beat me to death with a baseball bat. He isn't here because he is most likely in prison. Locked away for giving justice to the bitch that killed his little girl in cold blood. What a mess I am.
“Si non possumus.”
These are the last words I hear, before a deafening crash rings out. A claw digs deep into my shoulder and I yell out in agony. What the fuck is happening now? I look behind me to see a hideous demon with a sinister smile bearing down on me. All the images I have ever seen of the devil and it's minions in my life, do them no justice. Being in front of one is a truly horrifying experience that can never be recorded on paper. It's long, black, rancid tongue reaches over and licks me, filling me with disgust and terror. I try to stand up, desperate to run away, but more and more of its clawed tentacles wrap around me, making it hard to breathe.
“I warned you.” The thing hisses at me. “I told you that you didn't want to make me come for you. You really are the worst.” It lets out a belting, evil laugh. “You've really done it now little girl, you have angered him. You're eternity will be spent in the worst parts of hell.”
I scream, I yell, I beg, I plead. It all falls on deaf ears. This monster doesn't want to hear it. It wants to cause me pain and misery. Maybe that's all I deserve, maybe I am just getting what was always going to come to me. Then, on that revelation, everything goes black.