I wouldn’t describe my book as all out horror, but there are certainly some dark moments. The first story in my book is about a man who is obsessed by a name of a person he cannot place. He becomes obsessed as well as paranoid about what the man whose name he can’t place might do to him. His partner goes out for the evening leaving him a state, in which he imagines the worse possible scenarios.
Things come to a head when he imagines an entity is forcing its way out of his stomach, not unlike the famous scene in “Alien”.
Here is an exert from this story.
Writhing on the bed, screaming in agony, the buttons of his shirt
popping off as his stomach continued distending, his last cohesive
thought was that the force inside him was seemingly poised to make a
decisive thrust to exit his belly. Something jostled inside him and he
watched with horror, the seam of his belly split open like a sliced ripe
watermelon. Blood, the deep red of mature geraniums, abruptly began
pouring out, soaking the beds heets and dripping onto the floor.
As he watched in stunned astonishment, a pair of wrinkled, baby sized
hands appeared from within the opening, followed by a
grapefruit-sized, shiny bald head. The two hands grasped tightly onto
either side of the ragged incision and began pushing and stretching the
cleft open until the head popped out. The head however was fully
developed, like a man who’d almost reached his twilight years, replete
with age-lines, wrinkles, and sagging features, the eyes turned and
stared at him blankly, without recognition, as if the man had awakened
from a long deep sleep.
The entity pushed the rest of its body from Branden’s, fell limply
onto the bed, then dropped with a thud onto the floor, where it began a
process of stretching and enlarging itself to that of a full-sized fully formed
man. Branden heard the man groaning and panting, and, as he
continued to unfold, saw him become more animated. The last thing he
saw as he slipped from consciousness, was the triumphant look of the
being, which had accomplished its sortie.
The second story in my book, involves any parent’s worst nightmare. Imagine if you were a man, trying to give your wife a rest, by taking you recently born baby out for a stroll in the park. Nothing could go wrong…could it? In this story the man returns home, however minus the infant. The story is called Snatched. His wife is quite naturally increasingly bitter towards him. There is no sign of the baby, until one day his wife tells him that “Baby” has returned. Naturally the man wants to see Baby…however his wife is adamant under no circumstances can he see baby siting his major fault of mislaying the infant while walking in the park. His wife gets more and more irrational as well as the fact that inexplicable occurrences begin to occur in the household.
In the coming days, Renton would discover other inexplicable
things: another pile of bones that looked like they had been mauled,
empty jars of baby food piled against a wall. He also noted the food
bill rising. Mother and Baby, it seemed, were consuming food at an
increasingly alarming rate, to the point that Renton began wondering if
she might be keeping more than one baby upstairs, and he began
dreaming of many babies, each one taking a turn clamping onto one to
his wife’s breasts and sucking her dry, only to move on to huge
quantities of succulent meat when she could provide no more milk.
Things were also being inexplicably moved around. He discovered, for
instance, a family photograph album, that included pictures of Baby,
just after his birth, some scribbled on, some torn to shreds. It was as if
an unseen entity had come to live with them in the house.
The last story in my book has a particularly gruesome passage. A reject from Hell returns to earth to wreak havoc, only to find herself the victim of a particularly nasty bit of revenge.
My body froze when a hand touched my shoulder, and I turned to
face the grey specter in what seemed like slow motion. A white light
flashed in my eyes, and I felt a watery splash on my face followed by
excruciating pain. I began to scream at the sound of flesh my own
flesh sizzling. Trickles of liquid ran from my face into my hands,
which instantly began sizzling and dissolving, adding further to the
pain. My legs buckled and I fell to the ground, writhing in agony,
screaming until my voice went hoarse. My assailant, whoever it was (I
would never be able to identify him or her, having been instantly
denied my faculty of sight) hovered over me for some time, no doubt
to witness my agony and relish the results of the effort.
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