Night Terrors: 16 Horror Stories

by Valentine King

  Within minutes I was naked and then the game ended. I shivered despite the central heating as they stared at me in silence. Judy moved towards me first and then they were all on me like wild animals, clawing at my skin as I waited for it to be over.

  Afterwards they sat talking to each other and I made my way to the kitchen to slice up the cake. As I passed round the slices they continued their conversation with barely a glance in my direction and I was able to make my way upstairs. “Where are you going?” my mother shouted up to me. “The party’s hardly started yet.”

  “Toilet,” I called back without stopping. I tiptoed into my room and walked over to the wardrobe. A hand reached out squeezed mine.

  “You okay?” Laura whispered.

  “I will be,” I replied. “I will be.”

  “Not long now,” she said. “Hang on in there.”

  I went into the bathroom and flushed the toilet before returning downstairs. The party went on for the rest of the day before Paul finally yawned as the sun set outside. “Well I think we might call it a night. Going to tuck us in birthday girl?”

  I followed him and Judy to the spare room where they invited me into their bed. All I could think of as the two of them wrapped round me was that this would never happen again after tonight. It was little comfort especially as my plan was showing no signs of success so far.

  Afterwards I left them sleeping and went back downstairs. “Ready for bed?” my father asked. I nodded, knowing what was coming.

  My mother locked me in my room when they were finished with me. “Night night birthday girl,” she said as she closed the door, locking me inside. I got dressed and waited until I was sure they were asleep before beckoning for Laura to come out.

  “How did it go?” she asked. “Did they…?”

  I nodded. “Let’s hope it works.”

  I spent the night beside her. She didn’t try and touch me and I was glad but just having her there made me feel a little safer somehow, a little less alone in the world. Overnight I heard the sound of vomiting coming from the bathroom several times and a flicker of a smile crossed my lips. That was the first sign. The next morning my mother didn’t come and unlock the bedroom door, that was the second sign. I dug out the duplicate key I’d had cut without them realising and in a minute my door was open.

  We glanced out together, listening for any sign of movement. None came. “Ready?” I asked. Laura nodded beside me.

  We walked across the landing and pushed open the door to my parents’ bedroom. My mother and father lay in bed with their eyes wide open, laid on their backs and staring up at the ceiling. “Good morning,” I smiled. “How are you both feeling?” Neither of them moved as I pulled down the blankets and observed the laboured movement of their chests whilst they struggled to breathe. “Enjoy the party?”

  Laura stood behind me, waiting for my signal.

  “Don’t get up,” I said, stepping into their eyeline. “I suppose you’re wondering what’s wrong? Well turning eighteen is a special occasion so I added an extra special ingredient to the cake, one I felt sure you’d love. It’s called Clostridium botulinum and it’s surprisingly easy to make if you know how.”

  They both blinked up at me, drool forming at the corner of my father’s mouth as I continued, “You might notice a little blurred vision, perhaps trouble swallowing? Pretty soon things will improve. For me I mean. Do you know what comes after the paralysis? Your lungs stop working.”

  I leaned down closer towards them and whispered quietly. “But I thought we might perhaps speed that process up. You. Sick. Fucks.”

  I stepped back and nodded to Laura. She pulled the duct tape from behind her back and tore off a strip, placing it across my mother’s nose and mouth. Almost instantly her eyes began to bulge, her cheeks turning purple as beside her my father could only continue to stare at the ceiling.

  We waited until her chest had stopped moving before moving across to my father. I didn’t say any fancy goodbyes, I just watched as Laura applied a second strip of tape across his face, her hand slipping into mine as we watched him fight ineffectually for breath, his cheeks turning purple.

  When we were sure he was dead we tore off the tape and left them there to enjoy their last lie in together. We walked across to the spare room to find Judy in there but Paul missing. Quickly Laura tore off a strip of tape and stuck it across Judy’s face as I spun round and headed for the landing. “Where the fuck is he?” Laura asked as she caught up with me.

  “No idea,” I replied as I heard a thud in the bathroom. I got there first, shoving the door open to find Paul draped across the toilet, his legs shaking. “Whasssss hassen….?” he managed to get out, his words slurred as he struggled to get his lips to move. He turned his head towards us and fell on the floor, his head slamming into the tiles as he tried to crawl towards the door. I fell back at the sight of him still moving. “What do we do?” Laura asked, looking down at him with panic across her eyes.

  “This,” I replied, taking the duct tape from her. I pulled a length out and began wrapping it round his head, ignoring the weak movements of his arms as he tried to bat me away. As the tape wound round his head I found myself singing out loud, “Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me,” over and over again.

  He tried to scream as I reached his mouth. I deliberately left his nostrils sticking through the tape before binding his legs and his arms together, leaving him mummy-like on the bathroom floor. All of a sudden I lost the strength in my body, slumping to the floor and shaking uncontrollably.

  His finger twitched and touched my foot and I scrambled back onto the landing, not stopping until I thudded into the wall behind me. Laura kicked the bathroom door shut and sat down next to me, putting her arm around my shoulder.

  “It’s over,” she said, turning my face gently towards hers. “It’s over now.”

  “Not quite,” I replied, getting to my feet. “I left him breathing.”

  “Why the fuck would you do that?”

  “Because there’s one last thing I need to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  I didn’t answer, instead going downstairs and out into the garden. I opened the shed door and picked up the plastic canister of petrol that sat beside the lawnmower. I carried it back into the house as Laura watched in silence, realising what I had planned. I poured the contents of the canister liberally around the house, waiting until the last drops were gone before walking back downstairs and into the garden. I stood on the back step and held a packet of matches in one hand and a petrol soaked rag in the other. It took three attempts to get a match to light properly and then another few seconds to get the rag flaring into life.

  “Happy birthday to me,” I said quietly as I tossed the burning cloth through the back door, watching as flames licked their way along the carpet towards the remains of my birthday cake.

  Trick or Treat

  Rob pulled up outside her house just after three in the afternoon. He took a deep breath before stepping out of the hire car and walking up to the gate. On the other side stood two rows of apple trees lined up on next to the ground floor windows of a small cottage, fallen apples the only blemish on the perfectly manicured lawn. A breeze picked behind him, sending another apple thumping to the ground as he opened the gate and walked slowly up to the door.

  He knocked and waited until the shadow of a figure appeared through on the other side of the frosted glass panels. “Can I help you?” the old lady asked when she saw him standing there.

  “Trick or treat,” he replied, kicking the door open and forcing his way past her.

  “Excuse me?” she said as he shoved the door closed and turned to smile back at her. “What on earth are you doing?”

  “It’s Halloween,” he replied, pulling a length of rope from his coat pocket. “Time for a trick.”

  He had her hands bound before she could stop him, her frail wrists darkening under the pressure of the overly tight knot. “What are you doing?” she asked, her
voice surprisingly steady. “I don’t have any money if that’s what you’re after.”

  “I’m not after your money Mrs Jenkins,” he said, yanking her along the hallway as if he was dragging a recalcitrant dog into the vet’s office. “I’m after you.”

  Twenty years earlier

  Rob and Joe were walking home from school together as the autumn leaves fell like confetti around them. They turned left at the end of the village onto the country track that led to their house. Joe stopped when they reached Mrs Jenkins’ garden wall and turned to his brother. “You up for it?”

  “Not again,” Rob replied. “It’s the third time this week. She’s going to realise it’s us soon.”

  “So?” Joe said, placing his foot in the hole in the wall and beginning to climb. “I can meet you at home if you want?”

  “Fine,” Rob snapped, following his brother over and into the orchard.

  Together they spent ten minutes collecting and eating apples, all the while watching out for the slight figure of Mrs Jenkins. She didn’t often appear outside but when she did they’d normally hurl abuse whilst hopping back over the wall and down the lane to their house. Today she was nowhere to be seen but before long eating apples grew dull so they moved onto throwing stones at her greenhouse, seeing who would be the first to break a pane of glass. Joe won. He always did.

  They spotted a flicker of movement at the kitchen window when the sound of shattering glass echoed across the orchard but then it was gone. “Come on,” Rob said, “she must have heard that.”

  Joe took a final flying kick at a bunch of flowers by the greenhouse, snapping the stems neatly and sending them scattering through the air before following his brother back over the wall just as the front door of the farmhouse opened and Mrs Jenkins appeared.

  “What are you doing in my garden?” she asked, looking furious. “Come back here!”

  “Oh fuck off you old witch,” Joe shouted although his bravado didn’t extend to remaining there to incur her wrath. He was back over the wall before she could reach him, Rob jumping over after him and the two of them running for home whilst she yelled ineffectually after them.

  A week later was Halloween and two small figures in ghost masks could be seen wandering through the village collecting sweets to gorge on later. They stopped outside Mrs Jenkins gate whilst trying to decide whether to risk it. “Haven’t we got enough?” Rob asked, tugging at his brother’s sleeve. “Let’s just go home.”

  “You’re such a wuss. She’s never going to know it’s us with these masks on. Come on, it’ll be a laugh.”

  He was already opening the gate as he spoke and heading up the path, Rob following slowly at his heels. Joe knocked on the door, stepping back as it opened and Mrs Jenkins appeared on the doorstep, looking frightened “Yes boys, can I help you?”

  “Trick or treat missis.”

  “Oh I see, well aren’t you two a spooky pair? Come on inside and I’ll see if I can find any sweets for you.”

  She turned and walked away down the long hallway. Joe turned back to his brother. “Told you,” he whispered before trotting after Mrs Jenkins. Rob entered last, closing the door behind him. He walked along the hall to find Mrs Jenkins and Joe waiting in the kitchen.

  “Won’t you sit down?” Mrs Jenkins asked, pointing to two stools against the back wall. The boys sat as she poured out two glasses of cloudy lemonade from a tall jug. “Now get that down you and I’ll see what I can find. Be right back boys.”

  If they were older they might have been more suspicious but their young age left them feeling smug, certain that Mrs Jenkins didn’t have a clue who they were. Even as the doctored lemonade began to take effect they still sat patiently waiting for her to return to the kitchen. Joe passed out first, slumping down from his stool to the floor, his mask slipping from his face to reveal his tightly closed eyes and pale cheeks.

  “Joe!” Rob cried, jumping to his feet but finding his legs had lost all their strength. He fell beside his brother, asleep in seconds.

  “Ah, look at the tired little angels,” Mrs Jenkins said as she returned to the kitchen a minute later, carrying everything she needed under her arm. “Let’s get you tucked in for the night shall we?”

  Joe woke up first. He tried to sit up but nothing happened. Looking down, he saw his legs were tightly bound together, his hands clasped as if in supplication, the strands of rope wrapped around his wrists making him wince as they cut off his circulation.

  “You’re awake at last,” Mrs Jenkins said from her seat on the far side of the cellar. “I began to think I’d added a little too much. But then it’s so hard to get the doses right for children. I mean the packaging tells you how much will sedate a fully grown man and you’re not quite there yet are you dear?”

  Joe looked around, seeing his brother asleep on the floor beside him, similarly bound and snoring lightly.

  “What the hell are you doing to us you old witch?”

  “You came round to trick or treat didn’t you?” She stood up and walked slowly over, leaning down and slapping Joe hard across the face. He let out a scream as she continued, “You’re quite the lucky boys you know? I’m going to give you both a trick and a treat.”

  She walked back to her chair and reached behind it, bringing out a paper bag as Rob began to stir quietly. “What’s in that?” Joe asked, his cheek stinging, his eyes wild.

  “A treat for you both,” Mrs Jenkins said. “Only I know how much you love my apples so I’m going to let you enjoy an entire bag all to yourselves. Aren’t I generous?”

  She reached into the bag and shoved a putrid apple towards Joe’s face. “Go on then. Get it down you?”

  “No bloody way,” he snapped, twisting his head to one side.

  “Oh now that’s a shame,” she replied, looking hurt. “I wonder if you’ll feel the same in a few days.”

  Rob blinked his eyes open and looked around him, groaning as he did so. “Where am I?” he asked, tugging weakly at the rope around his wrists.

  “You’re in my cellar,” Mrs Jenkins replied. “Lovely thick concrete walls so you scream as much as you like boys. I’ll see you soon.”

  She left the bag on the floor and walked over to the steps, slowly ascending them without looking back. “Hey! Let us out of here!” Joe screamed. The only response was the door to the kitchen slamming shut, leaving the two boys in pitch darkness together. “Help!” Joe yelled at the top of his voice. “Help! Someone!”

  Rob moaned. “What’s going on Joe?”

  “That mental old bitch drugged us and locked us in her cellar.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I don’t bloody know do I? Because she’s insane maybe?” He took a deep breath before yelling at the top of his voice, “Help!”

  They both screamed until they were beyond hoarse but nobody came. It was impossible to tell how long they were left alone in the dark together but by the time Mrs Jenkins reappeared they were both pale with dehydration, their stomachs growling with hunger.

  “Good morning boys,” she smiled as she walked down into the cellar carrying a long stick. “How are you feeling?”

  Joe had to endure a coughing fit before he could even speak, his voice quiet and rasping, his eyes half closed in response to the sudden onslaught of light. “Please let us go Mrs Jenkins. We’re sorry for what we did.”

  “I can’t let you go just yet. We’re hardly getting started.”

  Joe began to cry. “Can we at least have a drink?”

  The stick whipped through the air, catching Joe on the side of the head and making him yell out in pain. “You didn’t say please,” Mrs Jenkins said. “Manners cost nothing you know.”

  “What the hell?” Joe blurted out, bursting into fresh tears as the stick caught him another glancing blow. “Stop it!”

  “I’m in charge now my dear,” Mrs Jenkins said. “But now you’ve had your trick, you can have your treat.”

  She took a sludgy brown apple from the bag and held it t
owards Joe’s face. “Still not hungry?”

  Joe thought hard before leaning forwards and taking a bite. He spat it out immediately, flecks of apple splashing across Mrs Jenkins hand. He earned five more blows with the stick for that before she turned to Rob. “How about you, care for a bite?”

  Rob shook his head, his words coming out in a stutter. “N…no,..th…thank…you.” His lip trembled as Mrs Jenkins raised her stick but then she lowered it again. “Now there’s a polite little boy.”

  The sound of knocking came echoing down the stairs. Joe immediately tried to scream for help, his voice still hoarse and weak. Mrs Jenkins landed a hard whack on the side of his head with the stick, the sharp edge sending blood trickling down his face as she rushed upstairs, slamming the door shut behind her.

  She was back an hour later, a scowl upon her face. “Would you believe they’re out looking for you two?” she said as she sat on her chair and stared intently at the two of them. “Who on earth would want two unruly little thugs like you back in their lives?”

  Rob’s heart soared at the thought that they were being sought out. Surely now, she’d let them go. She seemed to read his thoughts, shaking her head as she smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I told them the noise was just my radio on too loud, no harm done. Now shall we get back to our lessons?”

  The next week consisted of two sessions a day. Mrs Jenkins would appear with the stick and more rotten apples. Each time they ate, she rewarded them with a sip of water. Each time they refused or their stomachs rejected the putrid fruit, they were beaten with the stick. By the end of the week the two boys were covered in half healed cuts and dark bruises, the flesh raw under the bonds that held them in place. They stank of urine and worse, their bodies struggling to deal with no sustenance other than the bounty of Mrs Jenkins orchard.