by Billy Wells
Don’t Look Behind You:
A Collection of Horror
Chamber Of Horror Series
By
Billy Wells
Don’t Look Behind You-A Collection of Horror
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 Ron Mahon of www.writerpublish.com for his help and guidance in making Don’t Look Behind You a best seller in six categories on Amazon.com.
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STORIES IN THIS BOOK
SOMETHING IN THE HOUSE
Randolph and Francene have come from the cemetery with some friends to visit a house where they lived when they were alive.
WITCH ALBERT
Marty’s new toy man is eating his other super heroes in his collection. He wonders what Witch Albert will do when they are gone, and she gets hungry.
BELIEVE IT OR NOT
A bank robber takes a desolate road to escape a roadblock. He would have been better off turning himself in to the police.
CHARLEY
Mandy is the only one who can see her imaginary friend who lives in the swamp.
WORLD DOMINATION
Barry believes a young man in the window seat is orchestrating Armageddon on his laptop computer game.
WHO’S YOUR DADDY
Cecil returns to his hometown for his mother’s funeral, he discovers the father he never knew was a serial killer who devoured his victims.
JOWLS
Alex seeks revenge on three partners who reneged on making him partner after 31 years of service in remote locations
BRIDE OF THE GORILLA
Werewolves cause madness and mayhem at Dizzyworld Amusement Park.
GHOST TOWN
Settlers come upon a deserted town where the former occupants fled in a hurry from something evil.
THE CALLER FROM HELL
Clyde Bottoms is receiving calls from a disconnected phone last used by the Morningside Cemetery twenty-five years ago in Hell Massachusetts.
THE DOME
After attempting to start a concrete business in northern New Jersey, the police found what was left of Earl Breedlove crawling around a dumpster in Newark. His brother, John, seeks revenge.
THE TAXIDERMIST
Louie finds a deformed taxidermist with outstanding credentials to mount his most prized kill from twenty-five years of hunting.
FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW
Jeremy White stared in disbelief at the footprints in the snow leading away from his front door, and none coming to it. He suspected Billy Smith had broken into his house during the night, and he wanted to nail him.
THE BOOGEYMAN
Agnes returns from a scary walk after dark and finds her front door standing open. A serial killer the media calls the “Boogeyman” will kill another woman in the next four hours if he follows his pattern.
INTO THE LIGHT
After Tomas sees an intense light as doctors try desperately to revive him, he finds himself fighting for survival as a new character in the original movie Night of the Living Dead.
ROAD KILL
Matt and Penny pick up a young man with a flat tire on a lonely road in the middle of the night.
THE CADAVER
Blanche foolishly risks her career as a university professor to enhance the learning curve of her students by supplying fresher cadavers for them to dissect.
SOMETHING IN THE HOUSE
In the middle of the night, a loud noise that sounded like two pots striking each other awakened Gary from a deep sleep. Sitting up, he peered through the open door of the master bedroom into the landing on the second floor.
“Gwen, I heard something,” he whispered, nudging her under a mountain of covers. “I think someone’s in the house.”
He waited for a response but got only an uninterested groan and continued heavy breathing.
“Remember,” he said softly as he rolled out of bed, “you don’t know the passwords to the bank accounts if anything happens to me.”
When Gwen, still submerged in heavy blankets, answered with a snort, and started to snore even more loudly, Gary crept silently to the doorway. Looking both ways down the length of the hall, he listened for more sounds.
Momentarily, he heard the rattle of glasses in the china cabinet in the dining room. Sliding to the floor, he crawled to the railing and peered down into the black living room. He heard the refrigerator door open, then the sound of ice falling and liquid filling a glass. Apparently, whoever was creeping around in the dark on the first level was not attempting to be silent.
Had Gwen allowed someone to spend the night without telling him? He didn’t think so, but why would someone robbing the house be so brazen to make more noise than a bull in the proverbial china shop? Was this more than a robbery? The thought chilled him.
Gathering his nerve, he took a deep breath and rising to a standing position shouted, “Who’s there?”
After a pause, an unfamiliar voice answered from below, “My name is Randolph.”
“Randolph?” Gary repeated, searching his memory for a connection. Finding none, he replied, “I don’t know any Randolph. What the hell are you doing in my house in the middle of the night?”
With no hesitation, the voice that reminded him of Boris Karloff answered with a lisp, “I used to live here many years ago with my mother and sister. It was a quiet night in the cemetery. A perfect evening for a midnight stroll, and I thought I’d stop by for old time’s sake.”
“Was this some kind of sick joke?” he thought. “Did some lunatic escape from a loony bin?”
“How did you get in my house?” Gary demanded.
“I used the key under the flowerpot on the porch. I always use it when I come to visit. You know you should consider finding a less obvious hiding place. Really, why even lock the door?”
Suddenly, Gary heard something fall and break in the den. “Is someone else here with you?” he inquired more meekly.
“Yes, Donald and Francene, my brother and sister, came with me, and we found a few more hungry friends along the way,” said the creepy voice from the kitchen.”
“Why are you walking around in the dark? You’re making enough noise to wake the dead.” Gary winced as soon as he said the words, and trying to recover, replied, “Why not turn on the lights?”
“We like the dark,” Randolph said eerily.
“Look, enough of this nonsense. I don’t know what planet you came from, but you can’t just barge into someone’s home at this or any other hour just because you lived here years ago. Leave now, or I’ll call the police. You’re scaring my wife.”
Randolph, unperturbed by the threat, chanted in a whimsical voice, “’Liar, liar, pants on fire, hang them from a telephone wire.’ Your wife is here with me, Gary, and she’s not scared. At least, not anymore.”
“Now, who’s lying?” Gary shouted. “Gwen is sleeping in our bed in the master bedroom. I can hear her snoring through the doorway gather your friends and leave immediately, or you’ll spend the rest of the night in jail. This is your last chance.”
“That’s not your wife you hear snoring,” Randolph declared boldly, “it’s my sister, Francene. Your bedroom was hers when she lived here forty years ago. I’m surprised you didn’t smell her.”
Hearing more voices below, Gary turned on the ligh
t in the upstairs hall with the wall switch. His jaw dropped when he saw three pale women in hospital gowns shambling into the living room from the kitchen. His blood ran cold as he watched them craning their necks upward toward him like hungry birds, and began to smack their lips menacingly.
“Where was his cell?” he thought, in a frenzy. Then, he remembered leaving it to charge on the kitchen counter just before bedtime.
Standing paralyzed with fear at the top of the stairs in his boxers, he watched three more figures shamble into the living room and join the others ogling him with their malevolent, ravenous stares.
“What do you want?” Gary screamed.” Whatever it is, take it and leave. Please!”
At this remark, Randolph and his friends began to snicker, and then burst into a fit of maniacal laughter. The six drooling women with hungry eyes and slobbering jaws lumbered single file up the staircase toward him.
Gary shuddered in terror at the grisly fate that would befall him if they got their hands, or should he say claws on him. He turned to flee into the master bedroom, but moving toward him from the doorway, he saw something surely from the grave. It had a hideous pocked face, rotten teeth, and a long tattered gown clotted with damp, wormy earth.
Recoiling backwards from the horror, his flight catapulted him headlong over the rail of the balcony. His piercing scream drowned out the uproarious Happy Birthday greeting from his wife, friends, and neighbors flooding into the hallway and the living room to begin the celebration. In midair, when someone turned on the lights in the dining room, Gary saw the monster from the master bedroom pulling off her rubber mask and looking down at him from the railing with sad eyes. It was Janine, his next-door neighbor.
In the seconds before Gary lost consciousness after breaking his neck on the ceramic tile floor, he saw the entire room fill with balloons and confetti. Gwen looked ravishing in her favorite cocktail dress blowing a noisemaker and tossing a streamer into the air. A huge banner with the words, “Happy Halloween, Gary on Your 40th Birthday… A Night To Remember” was the last thing he saw before the grim reaper gobbled him up.
Gwen had done it again. She had planned a truly memorable party that no one in attendance would ever forget.
Gary died on the same day he was born, October 31.
WITCH ALBERT
Marty saw the toy figure lying on the sidewalk through the white picket fence. He was ten years old and small for his age. Due to the number of derelicts passing on their way to the local soup kitchen, his mother had warned him to stay away from the gate and never to talk to strangers when he played in the front yard. Sparky, the family’s German shepherd, stood vigil outside his doghouse and kept a protective eye on him. Whenever anyone passed, the dog would bark a warning and bare his teeth. Marty felt perfectly safe with Sparky standing guard.
Against his mother’s strict orders, the boy approached the fence and scrutinized the toy man with one leg on the sidewalk and the other in a patch of grass along the curb. Picking up a branch that had fallen into the yard from a nearby oak, Marty stuck it through the opening between the slats in the fence and tried to drag the toy man across the sidewalk so he could grab it.
Try as he may, he could not loosen the figure stuck in a crevice at the edge of the concrete.
Out of nowhere, he heard someone approaching on the walk to the left. Turning his head, and quickly removing the worthless branch, he scooted backward into the safety of the fenced yard behind a shrub. Mortified the person might see what he considered a treasure and snatch it for himself; he closed his eyes and hoped the stranger would pass without noticing it.
When he thought the pedestrian had finally passed, Marty peeked to see if the toy figure was still there. He winced when he saw an ugly, old woman with a pointed nose and chin wearing a long black cape and hood standing at the gate leering at him.
Reaching down, she plucked the toy man from the sidewalk and held it up in her wrinkled hand. “Is this what you want, sonny?” the old crone croaked.
Sparky growled and continued to bark. Marty sat transfixed and speechless, staring at the creepy burn scars on the woman’s face and the white film covering the pupil of her right eye.”
“Cat got your tongue, sonny. Don’t be frightened; I’m just an old woman who got burned in a house fire. I mean you no harm.” She placed the toy on top of a fence post and stepped back from the gate.
Marty wished she would leave so he could grab the toy and add it to his collection, but he dared not venture forth with her standing so close. Sparky’s chain could not reach the front gate.
After several minutes of a stalemate, the crone sighed and trudged off. When she turned right at the corner and disappeared from sight, Marty ran to the post, grabbed the toy man, and darted inside the house.
Bounding up the stairs to his room, he placed the new addition to his collection with the eight others on a shelf next to his bed. The figure was a handsome prince with shoulder length brown hair. Dressed in a dark brown tunic and green pants, he reminded him of Robin Hood. He had a silver sword melded into a scabbard, and a red gem dangled from his neck. Marty beamed with excitement and, after thoughtful deliberation, named him Prince Albert.
When he went to bed that evening, he noticed the new man seemed to emit a peculiar inner light, unlike the others that were totally opaque.
In the morning, after brushing his teeth and dressing for school, Marty noticed one of his favorite men, Mighty Man, missing from the shelf. He was positive he had been there when he went to bed.
Marty searched his room for the missing super hero, but finding nothing, he trudged down the stairs to breakfast in frustration.
During breakfast, his mother noticed his long face and asked, “What’s wrong, darling?”
“Mighty Man is missing. I looked everywhere, but I can’t find him.”
“Don’t worry; I’m sure he’ll turn up. It’s time for the bus.”
All day long at school, Marty wondered about the strange disappearance of Mighty Man.
The next night before turning in, he noticed Prince Albert looked slightly taller than his other figures. “Maybe the new man was defective,” he thought. When he turned off the light, he had the uncanny sensation he was not alone. He had never had such a creepy feeling before in his own room, even at an early age. Pulling the sheet over his head, he listened for an unfamiliar sound, but after a time, he drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Marty threw out his arms and yawned loudly. His eyes immediately fell upon the space in the middle of the row of toy men. “Mom,” he shouted. “Pulse Pounder is missing. Were you in my room this morning?”
From the master bedroom, his mother called out, “No. When I went to my exercise class at seven, I looked in on you, but I didn’t come inside your room. Your figures couldn’t have walked away by themselves. You must have put them somewhere. Where did you have them last?”
Her question hung in the air without a response as he picked up Prince Albert and studied him. He seemed even bigger and taller than yesterday. His handsome features had taken on a more villainous undertone, and his cloak had become a darker shade of purple, almost black. Two of his favorite men had disappeared, and he believed Prince Albert had something to do with it. Picking up his new acquisition, he placed it in the file cabinet next to his computer and locked the drawer.
That evening, after finishing his homework, he started watching TV, but he could not focus on the programs. He kept thinking about Mighty Man and Pulse Pounder and what Prince Albert might do next.
At nine o’clock, his mother called out from her easy chair and crossword puzzle, “Time for bed!”
Before turning in, Marty tried the file drawer and found it still locked. He looked at the seven men on the shelf and made a mental note of their position. After turning off the light, he wondered what he would find in the morning. Not long after, he fell into a deeper sleep than the night before.
In the early morning, Marty started tossing and turning. In a n
ightmare, Prince Albert had grown as tall as his father had, and his face had changed into the monster in Jeepers Creepers. His hands had become grotesque claws, and he had a mouthful of tiny, pointed teeth. When he spread his bat like wings, he could fly. Out of a dense fog, Marty came to the master bedroom door and opened it. Before him, he found the hideous, winged monster hovering over his parents while they slept with long, menacing claws poised to strike.
Marty awoke screaming, his tee shirt wet with sweat. He could not keep his hands from shaking. He jumped from bed and ran to his parent’s bedroom. To his surprise, the bed had been made, and everything looked the way it always did. The smell of bacon from the kitchen brought an enormous sigh of relief.
Returning to his room, he started dressing for school. It was then he saw only five figures on the shelf. Crimson Crusader was gone, and the file cabinet drawer was open next to the computer. Prince Albert stood alone on the end table with a trace of toy man blood on his lips. His dark purple cape had become as black as coal. The deep-set, sinister eyes were cruel, and a long, pointed nose and chin riddled with scars protruded from the executioner’s hood he wore about his face. Marty shuddered when he realized his new toy man had become a toy figure of the ugly woman who had placed Prince Albert on top of the gate, but now, the figure had grown bigger and taller than yesterday. He wanted desperately to tell his parents, but he knew they would never believe him.
His mother shouted from the kitchen, “Marty, breakfast is ready, and the bus leaves in fifteen minutes.”
He trudged down to the kitchen and took a seat at the table. He wasn’t hungry, but he ate a piece of bacon and a forkful of scrambled eggs to make his mother happy.
Returning to his room, he placed the witch figure in his backpack and ran outside to catch the bus.
When he crossed the Tamerack Bridge before reaching the middle school, Marty removed the toy figure from his backpack and hurled it through the open window. When it disappeared below the plane of the bridge’s guardrails, he felt confident his troubles were over. Further, out in the distance, he saw the white water crashing against the rocks below, and knew the dreaded prince who had become a witch had gone to a watery grave.