by Billy Wells
Scary Stories:
A Collection of Horror
Volume 1
By
Billy Wells
Scary Stories: A Collection of Horror – Volume 1
Copyright © 2013 by Billy Wells
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Dedication
I dedicate this book to the members of the Wannabe Writers group for editing the stories and giving me weekly support and encouragement.
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STORIES IN THIS BOOK
SOMETHING IN THE ATTIC
Norma went to the attic to get her costume for Halloween. After reading from an old book that belonged to a grandma who was burned at the stake during the Salem witch trials, she lapsed into unconsciousness.
FIDO
George lost his job and needs to leave his hometown and start a new life. A rich recluse seems like an easy target to get fast cash except for a sign on the wall surrounding her estate, "Beware of Fido".
NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS
Four friends make New Year’s resolutions to overcome phobias in the coming year. A month later, three of them have met with unexplained deaths, and the only survivor keeps having nightmares that they were murdered.
RED HATS MASQUERADE BALL
A retired psychopath's favorite past time is wreaking havoc on people she doesn't know. She can't wait to blind and disfigure a group of ladies with an exploding gag gift at their upcoming Halloween party.
THE ICE MAN
A woman and her boy friend try to convince her bridge partner that her husband is an infamous hit man who has a reputation for unspeakable acts and cruelty.
THE MAKEOVER
A plastic surgeon seeks revenge for being framed by a malicious, wealthy client who bribes the judge, jury, the attorneys, and the warden to make sure he serves hard time in prison for ten years.
THE BLIZZARD
Helen’s Christmas holiday with her husband at her parents’ secluded estate is disrupted by the worst blizzard in over thirty years on the very night a maniac has escaped from the local asylum.
IT LURKS ON THE MOUNTAIN
Three hunters are missing and bloody body parts of headless torsos have been found at Widow’s Peak. Is there really a hairy monster on the mountain or is Bubba Rexrode up to his old tricks?
COLD CALLS
Mortimer will stop at nothing to find new clients for a failing funeral parlor business passed down to him by his ruthless father.
THE TOMB
The museum director has offered Brian one last chance to keep the job he has held only because of his father's legendary accomplishments. He must find the last undiscovered Egyptian Pharaoh’s tomb, despite ancient beliefs that breaking the seal will bring death to all mankind.
SOMETHING IN THE ATTIC
It was Halloween, Norma's favorite day of the whole year. She couldn't wait for the night to come when there would be magic in the air. Tonight would even be more special since her parents said there would be a full moon. She loved to see all the scary costumes, and she couldn't wait to snack on all the goodies after the tide of trick or treaters stopped coming.
Her parents had gone shopping, and she had nothing else to do but go to the attic and find the costume she would wear tonight.
Reaching the top of the stairs, she saw a group of boxes near the window with the words "HALLOWEEN" written in black Magic Marker. As she moved closer to them, the ceiling became lower, and she had to crouch to avoid hitting her head on the rafters. Several dead wasps littered the top of the insulation on the floor.
As she started to pull down the carton of Halloween paraphernalia, she noticed the familiar, but weird black box covered in a strange fabric labeled “GRANDMA HECATE” beside it. Just like last year, the strange box intrigued her, and since it was only early afternoon, she decided to rummage through it before selecting her Halloween costume.
Grandma Hecate had passed away five years before when Norma was only eight years old. For most of her life, Grandma had lived in a small cottage at the edge of the swamps in Louisiana. When she became too senile to care for herself, she had moved in with them in New Orleans. Norma remembered all the wonderful presents Grandma had given her when she was a little girl. She also recalled how Grandma always smelled like cinnamon when she crawled up on her lap to listen to bedtime stories.
Inside the carton, she found a mishmash of souvenirs, old books, boxes of ancient photographs, and several Cabbage Patch dolls. And like last year, she picked up the old diary with yellow, brittle pages and opened it.
Norma knew the diary had belonged to her Great, Great, Great, Great Grandma Priscilla, who her mother said the Puritans burned at the stake during the Salem witch trials. Grandma Hecate had told her scary stories about what happened to their beloved ancestor over three hundred years ago. She said it was a terrible time in American history and very traumatic for our family.
This strange black book always fascinated Norma. She had never seen anything like it. Turning the yellow pages that had come loose from their binding, she marveled at the Satanic passages her Grandma said were incantations to various goblins and demons. Much of the writing written in dark red ink looked like blood. She remembered reading some of the passages when she came to the attic last year for her Halloween costume.
Putting Priscilla’s book aside, Norma noticed a small ragged volume tucked vertically between the other books. Pulling it free in a cloud of dust, she began to browse through it. The condition of this coverless book was much worse than the others. The pages were even more dog-eared and had turned almost orange in color. She immediately assumed it was even older than the black book that dated back to the late seventeenth century. On the top of the first page, someone had written, “To Hecate, for your eyes only. Simon.”
Norma didn't remember seeing this book before and began reading the first page with great interest. After reading a few more pages, a strange feeling came over her. When she tried to get up, she lapsed into unconsciousness and slumped to the floor.
* * *
When Norma awakened several hours later, she found herself dazed and disoriented with her head resting against the box of Grandma's Hecate belongings. Night had fallen, and turning to look outside, she saw the full moon framed in the window and gasped. She’d never experienced such an odd feeling. She wondered if she’d had an allergic reaction to something in the attic. Had a wasp stung her?
Immediately, she placed the old book on the floor, and struggling to her feet in a stupor, she scurried down the stairs in a panic.
“This was unbelievable,” she thought. She had somehow fallen asleep and had not done one thing her parents had asked her to do to prepare for Halloween, the most important night of the year.
Racing to the cupboard, she grabbed several bags of candy. The kitchen clock read 8:05. She grimaced at the thought she may have missed the entire parade of trick-or-treaters. Most parents would not allow their children to beg for candy much later than eight o’clock in this neighborhood.
Norma trudged out on the front porch dejected and disappointed. She doubted anyone would come this late, but then, to her surprise, a diminutive zombie dressed like something from the Walking Dead TV show shambled up to the picket fence. A shorter monster wearing a Freddie Krueger costume, complete with plastic knives on his fingers and a fedora hat, stood beside him ready to spring into the yard.
>
As the zombie started to pull the catch to open the gate, both monsters spotted Norma sitting in the shadows and froze in their tracks. The zombie withdrew his hand like he’d touched a hot potato, and the two of them ran screaming down the street.
Norma couldn't understand what had happened. Then, looking down at what she was wearing, she realized she had forgotten to put on her Alice in Wonderland costume. It was the best one she had to lure unsuspecting humans right into her mole-covered hands. She’d gone to the attic to get it but forgot to put it on. She had never blundered so badly. The two children who had come to the gate had seen her real face, which, understandably, had scared them out of their wits.
Suddenly, over the rooftops, Norma saw two shadows fly across the moon. She felt a sudden chill in the air and detected the faint smell of brimstone. Then, she heard the familiar voice of her father as her parents swooped down in the front yard and dismounted their broomsticks.
Her mind seemed cloudy as she gathered her thoughts to speak, but before she could utter a word, her mother asked excitedly, "How many trick-or-treaters did you lure into the torture chamber for next year’s meal program?"
Norma continued to sit there looking into space and said nothing.
“Well, how many?” her father barked.
“None,” Norma said blankly.
“None?’” her father shrieked, slamming his chainsaw and hatchet down on the front porch, “I told you not to drink so much of that brew for lunch. You know how much it mellows you. You've squandered the most important night of the year.”
His face reddened as he stood fuming and waited for an explanation for Norma’s lack of follow-through. When she still didn’t respond, he continued to rant, “I can't get over the way you teenagers let so many golden opportunities slip by to make something of yourselves. This was your chance to put your name on the leader board, and what did you do? Zero kills on Halloween. Pathetic. Worse than pathetic.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. I found two dog-eared books in the attic, which sidetracked me. I think one belonged to Great, Great, Great, Great Grandma Priscilla from 1683, and the other belonged to Grandma Hecate, at least someone had written her name on the inside cover. When I started reading, a strange feeling came over me, and I drifted off to sleep. When I awoke, it was dark, I felt woozy, and my head was spinning.”
“I told you the brew was potent. It contains eye of newt,” her mother piped in as a black cat crossed their paths.
“I don’t know, Mother.” Norma said perplexed, “I’ve been drinking your brew every Halloween, but it never made me feel like this.”
“Well, don't worry, darling,” the old hag croaked. “We bagged enough of the annoying little creeps on the playground right before school closed for the whole family. We hid them in an abandoned graveyard. They’ll keep nicely until morning, and we can have one for breakfast. You can help us load the rest of their carcasses into the dump truck for cold storage. You’ll feel better after a good nightmare.”
“Did you chop off any of their fingers and toes?” Norma asked, licking her slimy lips, “You know I have a sweet tooth.”
“Yes, we knew you’d want something to snack on this evening,” her mother said, dragging a black sack from behind her back and putting it down on the front porch.
Norma picked out a thumb dog with sauerkraut and mustard her mother had wrapped in a bloody rag and popped it between her fangs, wrapper, and all. “Ugh!” she gasped, spitting out a sliver of bone and taking a drink. This was one of her favorite snacks, but tonight, she could barely get it down even with a goblet of blood chaser.
Her father selected a slice of cheek from the bloody stew of body parts in the bag and went inside the house to take a pee and find some salsa for dipping.“
Popping a chocolate eyeball between her black teeth, her mother knew something was very wrong with her daughter. Norma had barely touched the juicy tongue with some of the roots still attached that most witches would crawl into bed with the devil for, “You're not yourself tonight, Norma. I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“I don’t think it was the brew, Mother. Something came over me when I read Grandma’s old book. Somehow for the first time in my life, I didn't have my usual craving to butcher the two little trick-or-treaters that came to the gate.”
“For Satan’s sake,” her mother hissed. “Don’t let your father hear you say that. If he knew puny mortals came to our yard, and you let them live, he’d go ballistic. Why we’d be the laughing-stock of the coven and never live it down.”
“I felt so strange after reading that chapter from the book,” Norma swooned as more shadows flew across the moon.
“What was this strange book you found in Granny’s old box?”
Norma looked look up at her mother with a strange light in her eyes and whispered, not wanting her father to hear, “the cover was missing, but the inside page read, “Holy Bible”.
FIDO
George stood in the cover of the stand of trees eyeballing the eight-foot high brick fence surrounding the property. He'd passed the old Nightshade house countless times but had never seen a living soul in the window or in the yard.
He remembered hearing the old timers at the local store say an old woman lived here who married a rich man who owned oil wells in Texas. On their first night at home, after returning from their honeymoon, some psychopath had broken into their house and hacked her husband to pieces with a hatchet. He could be mistaken, but he thought someone said the murderer had put the young bride’s eyes out with a screwdriver before he left.
George was severely down on his luck, and he was desperate. His boss had just fired him from his high paying job as Director of Road Kill in Prince William County. After years of shoveling up hundreds of maggot-infested carcasses all over the back roads of Woodbridge and Occoquan, he had been promoted to director when his mentor, Mr. Harris, had passed away.
None of his so-called friends had congratulated him on his promotion when the commissioner announced it. They were thoroughly pissed off they didn’t get chosen for the job. Larry Donahue, one of his best friends, even told him to his face he was an idiot and would never last as director. He was so mad he threw his paperweight against the wall and stormed out of the office to get drunk. George thought it amazing how his achieving such a lofty position in the county had completely severed his relationship with all his old road kill compadres.
After he moved into his prestigious office with a desk, a chair, and two file cabinets with a panoramic view of the new sewer plant, George waited for something he could use to get even with good old Larry.
Finally, one day, like a bolt from the blue, it occurred to George that Larry was overstating the mileage on his expense accounts. In every case, George found that Larry had doubled the mileage to every location, and over a five-year period, had cheated the county out of $131. He knew this because he had done the same thing for years just like everyone else who drove his own car occasionally on county business. The only difference was that Larry Donahue had made that snide remark about George’s promotion, and he had to pay.
He would never forget the look on Larry’s face when the guard escorted him out of the building on that final Friday. He wouldn’t even let him access his computer after working there for more than ten years.
After five years as director, George ran the Road Kill Department like a tyrant until his fetish for flashing women in the parking lot finally led to his termination.
The coup de gras was when the last woman he flashed, instead of running off screaming like the others, snapped a picture of his manhood in all its glory on her phone and reported him. The first time a woman had filed a complaint, one year earlier, he had disputed the woman's accusations as a malicious attack on his character to advance her own career in the Road Kill department. The Board of Sanitation took George’s word as director over the lowly administrative assistant and fired the troublemaking female without even a hearing.
This time h
e’d been caught with his pants down, literally, and the picture and the record of the previous complaint in his file had sealed his doom.
Just like Larry, his old drinking buddy, the guard wouldn’t let him access his computer either when he escorted him to the parking lot on his final Friday. Looking back on that pivotal day in his life, he couldn’t stop asking himself the same question. Why had he exposed himself in the parking lot where he worked? What was he thinking? Why hadn’t he driven twenty miles away to the mall in Fredericksburg to expose his penis to a woman in that county? At the very least, why hadn’t he worn a ski mask to conceal his identity?
Try as he may, he could not erase the blemish on his record. Wherever he went, his reputation preceded him, and, consequently, no one would hire him. He had no choice but to pull up stakes and start over somewhere else far away. But, he needed a stake for road money and cash to make ends meet until he found a new job.
George was convinced that robbing the oil heiress would certainly be his ticket out of Prince William County.
To make sure he would not blow this excellent opportunity, he decided to go down to the general store and shoot the shit with the old timers to find out all he could about the mysterious recluse. He didn’t want to go off half cocked as he had in the parking lot. What could a decrepit, blind woman do against a man who could bench press three hundred pounds? Robbing her would be like taking candy from a baby.
To top it all off, tonight would be the perfect night to break in and take the money. The weatherman said a fog bank would move into the area later that evening.
When George entered the store, he saw Harry, Paul, and Ed beating their gums in the back near the vending machines. All of them were sitting on folding chairs drinking coffee that had probably been made early that morning.
“Howdy, gents,” George said, settling on the last unoccupied chair. The three elderly men looked at each other like cats that just swallowed the canary.