Night Terrors: 16 Horror Stories

by Valentine King

  The kid screamed, the fight gone out of him in an instant. It was pathetic really, hardly a challenge at all. Graham grabbed him by the shoulders, ignoring the blood dribbling from the kid’s mouth as he dragged him upright.

  With a grunt he threw the kid into the armchair. “Stay there.” The kid tried to get up and Graham sighed, they never listened. He landed two punches in quick succession, enjoying the sensation of his fist smashing into the little runt’s nose. “I said stay there.”

  “All right,” the kid spluttered, spitting out half of a broken tooth as Graham raised his fist again. “All right!”

  “Good. Now where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Graham slapped him, still smiling. “Try again.”

  “All right, Christ, just please don’t hit me again.”

  “Good boy. Now where is she?”

  “She’s at my house.”

  “And where’s that?” Graham asked, reaching into his back pocket.

  “Grantley Street. 11 Grantley Street. Now please-“

  His words were cut off as Graham plunged a knife into the kid’s chest. He stood listening as the kid started to gurgle, his lung pierced by the blade. Pulling the knife back with a wet sound, Graham plunged it in again and then again, turning wild as he watched the kid’s expression change, the light fade from his eyes.

  Eventually he stood back, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath, blood dripping from his hand. He looked at the kid’s body. He’d deal with that later. Time to go see her first. He was too angry to care about the blood on his hands or his clothes. He jogged down the steps from the flat and out the front door, breaking into a run as he dug out his car key.

  That bitch would pay for this. He’d be late home now, having to get rid of the two of them in one night. What did she think would happen? That the kid would waltz in and he’d quiver in his boots and hand over the cash? He punched the address into his satnav, forcing himself to stay within the speed limit, not wanting to draw attention to himself, not whilst he was still covered in the kid’s blood. It took fifteen minutes to reach the house and the entire time he thought of her, of what he was going to do to her, what she deserved.

  The lights were on downstairs when he drove past. He turned the car at the end of the road before driving past again. She’d be expecting the kid to be coming back with the money. She wouldn’t be expecting him. Parking the car a few doors away, he walked along the empty pavement, fists clenched. He knocked on the door and waited. Nothing. He tried the door knob and was surprised to find it open. Silently he crept inside, tiptoeing along the hall and edging his face round the living room door. There it was.

  He could hardly believe it. Was she so stupid as to leave it lying round like this? He walked over to the table in the corner and looked at the laptop, his laptop, the one she’d stolen from him, the one with all the videos he’d collected over the years, all the photos he’d taken. He pulled open the lid and looked at the screen, frowning as he realised it wasn’t his laptop after all.

  “Hello Graham.”

  He jumped, spinning round to find Marie standing in the doorway, holding his laptop with her finger poised over the return key. “What are you doing?” he asked, taking a step towards her.

  “That’s far enough. Sit down or I send this.”

  “Send what? What are you-“

  “I said sit down.”

  He moved towards her and she lowered her finger. Reluctantly, he lowered himself into the wooden armchair, never taking his eyes off her, waiting for the right moment to attack.

  “Tie your feet to the chair.”

  “What with? My socks?”

  “Look down.”

  He glanced at his feet, noticing for the first time a length of rope sticking out from under the chair. “You’re making a big mistake,” he said as he pulled out the rope.

  “Just do it,” Marie said. “Or do you want everyone to know what kind of person you really are?”

  He began looping the rope round his ankles, making sure the bonds were loose enough to escape as soon as he was ready.

  “Now your hand.”

  She watched in silence as he looped the end of the rope round his wrist and tied a knot under the arm of the chair. “Why are you doing this?” he asked as he let go of the rope. “Don’t you want the money?”

  “Put your other hand through there.”

  He looked down, noticing the ziptie looped round the remaining arm of the chair. “You lived at the flat for free,” he said as he pushed his wrist through the hole. “I paid for everything for you. Why are you doing this?” All the time he was talking, he was watching her, waiting for her to let her guard down. It might only be for a second but that was all the time he needed.

  “Don’t move,” she said, prowling round the edge of the room. She walked round the back of the sofa and he heard her behind the armchair. He whipped his head to his left and in that instant, she was round to his right, tightening the ziptie with an echoing click. “I don’t want your money Graham,” she said, finally setting the laptop down on the sofa. She stood in front of the chair, looking down at him. “You’ve got some blood on you. Anyone I know?”

  “It’s your boyfriend’s,” Graham said, smiling up at her. “I doubt he’s got any left in him.”

  “Do you want to know what I wanted?” she asked, ignoring his comment. “I was seventeen and lost in a big city. I wanted support. I wanted love. And what did I get? I got you. Seventeen years you’ve been hurting me and I put up with it and you know why? I genuinely thought you loved me. Stupid, I know but that’s me all over. I was stupid enough to believe I knew you better than anyone but I never knew you were into this.” She leaned over and hit play on the laptop. The room was filled with the sound of screaming, a high pitched child’s screaming.

  Marie glanced at the screen and then back at him. “You. Sick. Fuck.” She hit pause, tears welling in her eyes.

  “Why’d you watch it if you don’t like it?” Graham asked, flexing the rope at his wrist, hoping she’d be overcome with those tears, it’d make it easier to take her.

  “I only used it to check my email while you were trying to get it up in the bathroom. Who was she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not lying. I’ve no idea. I didn’t film it. I just bought it.”

  “Be a man for once Graham. Christ, she looks younger than your daughter.”

  “What do you want? An apology? A promise never to do it again?”

  She shook her head. “No Graham. First of all I owe you some thanks. I’ve wanted that scumbag pimp of mine dead for a while so you did me a favour there. Didn’t know about him did you? Anyway, I brought you here to give you a choice which is more than you gave her.”

  She stepped forwards and Graham was about to pull his legs free when he caught a glimpse of metal in her hand. “No,” he managed to get out before she plunged the knife into his thigh. She looked at him as if expecting him to scream. He disappointed her, keeping his mouth shut as he gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the excruciating pain as blood began to soak through his trousers.

  “Recognise the knife?” Marie asked, lifting her skirt to expose her thigh. “It’s the one you used to give me this.” She ran a finger along the curving scar that had been hidden from view. “Now you’ve only a few minutes before you bleed to death so listen. I’m going to send everything on that computer to the press, the police, even your loving family. In a minute they’ll all know who you really are.”

  “Don’t you dare,” he replied, feeling himself growing faint. He tried to pull his ankles free of the rope but they refused to move. His fingers were beginning to tingle, white spots appearing in front of his eyes.

  “Here’s a phone,” Marie continued. “Pay as you go, just to be safe. I’ve only used it once. The police know about the flat and they’re on their way. Time for one more call. I’m going to dial your wife an
d she’s going to answer. You can tell her who you really are, ask her to call you an ambulance and then spend the rest of your life in prison.”

  “Or?”

  Marie pointed at the laptop again. “Or you can atone for your multitude of sins and sit there and bleed to death like that poor little girl did whilst you watched. Oh and in case you get bored while you decide. I’ll leave the TV on.” She picked up the remote and the screen in the corner flickered into life. “Oh look, it’s you, the national treasure.” She pressed quick dial on the phone and wedged it against Graham’s shoulder. “Goodbye Graham.”

  She flicked the return key on the laptop keyboard as Graham blinked, his vision blurring. He knew what was happening without needing to see it. The contents of the laptop were shooting off in all directions, pinging into inboxes before she’d even left the room.

  He blinked and shook his head, his vision returning as the dial tone droned by his ear. Glancing up at the TV screen, he saw himself laughing and joking with his studio audience. There was a click by his ear as the phone connected. He slumped forwards, his vision beginning to fade. A voice reached his ear as if from a huge distance as his wife answered at the other end of the phone.

  “Hello?”

  6

  Keith was glad he’d been able to see her go. The clock on the far wall had ticked away the last few seconds of Gladys’ life as he watched in silence, enjoying every moment. All too often the residents of the care home slipped away while he was elsewhere and he hated that. There was something about watching them die that he found irresistible, things stirring deep inside him at the point of death that he didn’t really understand. Sometimes he held their hands and listened to them talk but most of the time he just watched.

  Gladys lay wrapped up in her bed covers with only her head visible, her eyes closed. Keith lifted her head and rearranged her pillows, straightening the nearest corner of her blanket before brushing her white hair away from her eyes. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, holding his face there for a moment. He sniffed loudly, the smell of death filling his lungs. “Goodbye Gladys,” he said, breathing her in one last time before standing up and quietly leaving her room.

  He was in no rush to tell the other staff Gladys had died. They’d find out soon enough and then the hive of activity would begin again, everyone so busy, getting one more from the home to the grave, the coffin not even lowered before the next resident was moved into her room. Gladys had been one of his favourite residents, he’d been looking forwards to her death. He told her as much as he pressed the pillow into her struggling face.

  She’d taken Keith under her wing when she’d first arrived at Glen Vale, acting like the nurse she used to be instead of the arthritic ancient crone she’d become. She’d sit up in bed and Keith would sit in the chair beside her, listening to her talk whilst his head rested by her hip, his thumb stuck in his mouth as she stroked his hair with bony fingers. In a strange way, he was going to miss their talks.

  Passing the empty lounge, Keith felt a single moment of regret that he couldn’t take Gladys with him to add to his collection. It would have been a fitting tribute her but he knew he couldn’t do it. Somebody would notice him dragging her out to his car. Besides, he was being called home and he knew he had to go along. At least he’d get to see his collection again for the first time in years. Not only that but the man had told him his collection was about to gain some new specimens.

  He slipped out of the fire exit before crunching across the gravel to his car at the far end of the yard. He climbed into the driver’s seat and was about to set off when there was a knock on his car window. He opened it in time for the night manager to lean in towards him.

  “Hi Keith.”

  “Hello Harold. Everything all right?”

  Harold nodded. “I just wanted to catch you before you go. How’s Gladys doing?”

  “Fine, fine. She was asleep when I left her.”

  “That’s good. Don’t think your dedication has gone unnoticed. I’ve been telling her family all about you, how you’ve been staying after hours to chat to her every night. They’re chuffed to bits with you, can’t wait to meet you.”

  “Oh,” Keith said again. “That’s nice. I am away for a bit though.”

  “I know, I know. You enjoy your holiday. Where was it you were going?”

  “Edinburgh,” Keith replied, the lie slipping off his tongue with practiced ease.

  “That was it. You have a good time and I’ll tell them to call in and see you when you get back.”

  “All right,” Keith said, starting the engine. “See you next week.” Harold took the hint as he slipped into first gear, stepping back from the car and waving at Keith as he set off down the drive.

  As Keith headed towards the motorway, he was filled with two very different emotions. He was ecstatic that he was being called back at last, a chance to perhaps ask the man why he’d been chosen all those years ago. But he was also nervous about being caught. When he’d left Seaford last time, he’d been close to getting in real trouble, having to leave in a hurry without even getting chance to say goodbye to his collection. He hadn’t been back since. It had been too risky.

  Thinking about Seaford made him think about the man again. Their time together in the church on the clifftop, his only sanctuary away from the taunts of the other children. He could hear the insults in his head even now, mostly late at night when he was trying to sleep, they would come back to him. Always Ben’s voice. The worst of them all, the most cruel, the most cutting. “Had your mum last night Keith. She was stiffer than I was.” He’d try to ignore them, never reacting. “Bet your mum smells better now than she did when she was alive.” It sank in though, it always did. “Did you fuck her before or after she died?”

  The man had helped him punish Ben for his sins. Keith smiled as he thought about Ben. Ben who’d flushed his head down the toilet and nearly drowned him when he insisted on a second flush. Ben who’d hidden his clothes after every P.E class. Ben who’d sent the sympathy card to Keith’s house after his mother’s death, the one with the smear of dog faeces inside and the immortal message: ‘To replace your mum, better looking than her and less smelly. Enjoy the funeral fuckface.’ He knew why of course. It was because Ben had seen him with the dead cat.

  The man stood at the pulpit, speaking softly to Keith as he sat alone on the front pew.

  “The wicked walk among us in this town,” the man suddenly yelled, slamming his fist into the wood, staring at Keith. “They must be punished.”

  “Amen,” Keith muttered.

  “You have been chosen,” the man continued, his voice returning to normal. “You will punish this child, this Benjamin.”

  “But how?”

  “Let him take your bike.”

  Keith frowned. “How will that punish him?” His bike was the only possession he valued despite its failing brakes and slipping chain. It was the only thing his foster family hadn’t taken away from him. It hurt to think he had to hand it over to the boy he hated the most.

  The man suddenly seemed taller, towering over Keith who cowered back in fear. “Do you question me?”

  “No, of course not. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re a good boy Keith. Give Ben your bike and if you have faith, it will be returned to you.”

  Keith stood up and left the church, collecting his bike from the steps and set off. He rode along the clifftop track until it turned into a real road, descending the long gentle hill back into town. When he reached the park, he curved left, reaching the high street a minute later. The road was clogged with cars so he clunked the bike up the kerb, continuing along the pavement.

  Lost in thought, he didn’t notice the pair of hands coming towards him until they slammed into his side, shoving him off balance. He crashed into the pavement, the bike sliding away from under him. Looking up, he saw Ben laughing at him from a few feet away. “Mind if I have a go?” Ben asked, picking up the bike and climbing onto it. He rode off along th
e pavement, turning with a skid into the library car park. Keith began to run after him and then slowed, the man’s words coming back to him.

  He followed Ben through the car park and onto the grassy slope that led down into the park. He could see Ben already halfway down the steep slope that led to the pitch and putt golf course. He felt a soothing hand on his shoulder and looked up to see the man beside him, watching Ben with that smile on his face that Keith knew well.

  The bike picked up speed as it freewheeled down the slope. Even from here Keith could tell Ben was going too fast, he didn’t know how useless the brakes were. The bike wobbled as Ben tried to turn it away from the railings that surrounded the play equipment. Keith felt a flutter in his stomach, excitement growing as he watched.

  The wobble grew larger, the rear wheel fishtailing before the bike began to fall deliciously slowly to the left. Ben was thrown forwards from it, spinning through the air before slamming into the railings. He slumped down to the ground as the bike slid to a halt beside him.

  “Good,” the man said, “very good. Now go get your bike. Leave Ben to me.”

  Keith ran down the hill, his excitement growing by the minute. He reached the railings and swore out loud as he saw Ben struggling to stand up. He’d almost made it up to his knees before falling again. His trousers were wet with blood, a jagged section of bone sticking out through a torn section of fabric. He’d clearly broken his leg but Keith wasn’t happy because he knew the man wouldn’t be happy. The man didn’t like it when they lived.

  “Help me,” Ben gasped, lifting a weak arm towards Keith.

  Keith knelt down and smiled at Ben. “Of course,” he said, leaning forwards and taking hold of the visible bone, waggling it from side to side and watching curiously as Ben screamed in agony.

  “What happened to him? Is he okay?”

  Keith turned to see a dog walker standing behind him. She had lifted her sunglasses from her eyes and gasped when she saw the exposed bone and Ben’s plaintive wails. “Oh my God. We need to call an ambulance.”