Twist and Scream - Volume 6 (Horror Short Stories)

by Jayne Bartholomew

  Twist and Scream 6

  Eight horror short stories

  Volume six

  By Jayne Bartholomew

  Copyright @ 2014 Jayne Bartholomew

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  One Black Feather

  Jumping to Conclusions

  Flicker

  Best Man

  Alone Time

  Great Expectations

  Ghost Writer

  Cash on Delivery

  One Black Feather

  Alfie could always tell when death was going to visit the nursing home. It was one of life’s little disappointments that he knew when someone was going to pass over and yet he’d never had so much as a hunch on lottery tickets. This certainty of death was one of the few things that dementia had not taken from him and a gift he’d not shared with anyone. He’d get a tingling under his skin and a bone-deep sense of anticipation the day before a passing; a few times he thought he’d seen a shadowy robed figure in the shadows of a bedroom after someone had died but he’d not been brave enough to look closer.

  The Angel of Death was not someone that Alfie feared; his black robe would be a welcome release from the hell in which he was currently living.

  Last week the tingling and knowing had started as soon as Mrs Donnelly had been dropped off by her children with nothing more than a suitcase and a peck on the cheek. She had looked so confused, so lost, that he’d gone over to her to try and offer some comfort. Of course, the words that came out of his mouth didn’t match up with how his brain had originally presented them but he’d patted her hand and she seemed to understand that.

  He’d watched her being led away by an uncaring care-worker and wondered, for the millionth time, if anyone had checked out the nursing home before handing over their supposedly loved one, or whether the relief of being unburdened outweighed such matters.

  Someone gently took him by the arm and led him to the TV room. Alfie sat down heavily in an armchair that smelt of stale urine and his eyes were drawn to the dancing colours on the screen. The plot escaped him and he was soon lost in his own thoughts.

  There were worse places to live, he supposed. The food wasn’t too bad if you didn’t care about taste or texture and the bed was comfortable. At some point the Angel of Death would visit him too which was all part of the circle of life, Alfie only hoped that when his time came it didn’t hurt.

  What he found hard to accept was the slow decay of his mind and strength. Before dementia had stolen his independence he had been passively judgemental whenever the news had run a story on care home abuse; he never thought he’d experience it.

  Back in the day, a favourite phrase of his, if someone had been disrespectful about a senior citizen he would’ve given them a piece of his mind. Now, he barely had enough of his mind to recognise the cruelty around him as abuse.

  The whole home was sick with neglect and the manager not only accepted this behaviour but actively encouraged it in the name of budgetary necessity. Why change an adult diaper as soon as it was soiled if you could wait until it was truly full? Was it necessary to run a bath for a resident and use so much water when you could stick the person in a wet room and turn a shower hose on them for the same end result? Alfie could see the manager hovering by the door and wondered if he was dreaming up another money saving tip. His latest brainwave was to turn the heating down in all rooms apart from reception, the visiting room and the staff room; he knew the residents would not be complaining.

  If Alfie had been in possession of his full mind he would’ve asked the manager if the budgetary necessity was in some way related to the new Mercedes he drove into work with. But he couldn’t, so didn’t, and the manager arrived each day in his shiny new car with a head full of ideas on how to pay for it.

  Alfie longed to tell his family what was going on, but they never gave him the chance. Every weekend they would dutifully arrive, usually with treats unsuitable for his diabetes, and prattle on for an hour about what they had been up to in the six days since the last visit. They spoke so fast that it exhausted him and when, or if, he finally had a moment to say something himself the words that came out made no sense.

  His family did their best, he knew that, but dear Lord they were frustrating. To cover up their embarrassment at Alfie’s mental deterioration they would try and make a joke of it, or pretend to go along with whatever they thought he had just said. No one gave him the time to get to the point.

  For his last birthday, one of Alfie’s grandsons who was studying at university, had given him a bag of marbles and joked that they were for when he finally lost the ones he had. Alfie had appreciated the humour and found the bag of lumpy balls that he kept in his pocket strangely comforting. The care-workers let him keep them since they weren’t valuable so held no interest for them.

  Every night he would take the marbles out of his pocket and put them on his nightstand. The light from the window would often catch their glass orbs making them twinkle and he could happily watch that until he drifted off to sleep.

  On that first night that Mrs Donnelly spent at the home she wandered into Alfie’s bedroom after lights out. He awoke with a start when he felt someone else join in him bed and for a moment he was thirty years younger, at home with his wife. The single bed did not cater for Mrs Donnelly’s confusion for long though and she jerked swiftly away when she realised the bed was already occupied.

  Alfie turned on the bedside light and saw the look of horrified confusion on the woman’s face.

  He pulled back his covers, making sure his pyjamas covered his necessities, and eased himself out of bed. Gently taking Mrs Donnelly’s hand Alfie led her back to her own room.

  Mrs Donnelly was crying tears of relief and self-pity but she handled herself well and gave Alfie a peck on the cheek to say thank you.

  Then the care-worker found them.

  Alfie had been aware of Trevor, or Trev to his colleagues, for some time and had done his level best to avoid him. He was one of the worst in the home with a sadistic streak that bordered on professional and a malicious turn of phrase that could bruise internally as badly as his rough handling bruised externally.

  “Edith, you dark horse, quite the little slut aren’t you?”

  Alfie felt Mrs Donnelly stiffen next to him as she mumbled incoherently.

  “Sorry to break up your fun but Alfie here is going to have to come with me, at his age the excitement could kill him and if there’s a dead body in the wrong bed it just creates complications.”

  Mrs Donnelly turned to Alfie, tears already falling from her gentle eyes.

  “Come on Alfie, leave your tart, you can catch up with her tomorrow if one of you hasn’t already clocked out by then. Can’t have you getting more action than me tonight, can I?” Trevor briskly turned Alfie around and pushed him towards the door. He looked back at Mrs Donnelly. “Although, since you’re a game old bird I’ll come back in a few minutes and see what it is that makes you so tasty, would you like that? I bet you would, bet you were a right goer when you were younger, bet you were at it all the time.” He made a crude gesture with his tongue and left the elderly lady shaking in fear on the edge of her bed.

  Alfie was also shaking but with anger. He’d sometimes wondered what happened to the ladies at night when so many came down to breakfast looking washed out and upset but hadn’t thought that such depravity was possible; now he knew the truth he was furious. How could one man be so evil?

  In the space between light and dark, in the corridor, Alfie spotted something ahead of them in the shadows. As he was manhandled towards his own room he felt the
tingling of anticipation rising up in him. He wondered if the Angel of Death was going to come for him tonight, if the soft kiss of oblivion would take him away from this cruelty and leave him somewhere kinder. At the edges of his mind the name of a new angel came to mind; Vengeance.

  As Alfie went further down the corridor the shadow took on a new outline until a boy stepped out into the middle of the landing. His face had an age that did not fit the young body and raven-black wings rested, unfurled on his shoulders.

  The care worker didn’t register the visitor and Alfie was unwilling to admit to seeing such a strange apparition, dismissing the vision as another part of his dementia, but he felt the tingle and wondered; if the Angel of Death brought merciful release, what would an Angel of Vengeance bring?

  He was roughly pushed towards his bed. “I don’t want to hear another sound from you until the morning, understood?” Trevor pushed his face into Alfie’s, forcing the older man backwards. “Gonna check on your girlfriend now, if you’re lucky I’ll tell you the details in the morning.” He chuckled to himself and walked out.

  Alfie sat in tears of helplessness as he heard the carer’s heavy footfall down the corridor. He put his hand onto the nightstand for his bag of marbles but they gave no comfort. He rested them on the bed next to him.

  In the shadows the boy with the black wings bowed his head and opened his arms, the wings extended, their ink black feathers glistening in the half light.

  Midway down the corridor, at the top of the long staircase to the reception, Trevor’s footsteps stopped. In Alfie’s room the tingling grew stronger. The boy raised his head and his jet black eyes stared into Trevor’s soul.

  There was a yell, a scrabbling noise, the sound of something tumbling down the stairs followed by a louder shriek. Alfie’s tingling stopped.

  The silence following the yell was deafening. There was a pause before the light under his door grew brighter; people were going out to see what had happened. Footsteps made their way to the top of the staircase, paused, and then returned to their own rooms. No one went down the stairs.

  Alfie reached down for his marbles and found they had gone. In their place was one glossy black feather. He gently placed it on his nightstand and watched it glistening in the light from the window above until he fell into a deep and untroubled sleep.

  In the morning they discovered that Trevor had slipped on loose marbles at the top of the stairs and impaled his lungs with his ribs on the descent. He had not died instantly but rather drowned helplessly in his own blood, alone.

  The care workers did not return Alfie’s marbles to him, they saw he had collected a feather and decided that it was a much safer play thing.

  They were wrong.

  Jumping to Conclusions

  “So that’s your choice,” said Dan, leaning back on the hard plane seat, “pull the cord on your parachute and once you reach the ground everything you own will be taken away from you, or don’t pull it and die with an amazing business legacy and a publically grieving widow.”

  Mike stared at his business partner and friend with a look of shock. He’d trusted Dan for years but that trust had been shattered beyond salvation. Dan was having an affair with his wife, the love of his life who he’d met before he became rich and realised the value of a pre-nuptial agreement. Jesus. With the shares he’d given both of them as the business grew, plus whatever he’d be forced to give up in a divorce, he would lose control of his company. Forced to contemplate a future that might contain abandonment, financial ruin and becoming a corporate laughing stock Mike could see how death could be a viable alternative.

  Dan had clearly thought things through carefully and was now watching Mike closely. “Unexplained accidents happen all the time, look at what happened to Josh, we go on a team building paint ball weekend and he falls out of a tree trying to get into a good position.”

  “You can’t compare some idiot with a Rambo complex to trying to persuade me to kill myself so you can shack up with my wife and steal my life!” exclaimed Mike angrily. The noise of the plane was making him speak louder than he wanted to and he quickly checked that the sky diving instructors were out of hearing range.

  “I don’t want to steal your life; I’m trying to offer you an alternative to what’s going to happen anyway once we reach the ground. I love Leona and she loves me. I’m sorry she’s your wife but we didn’t plan to get involved, it just happened.”

  Mike dismissed the back handed apology with a sneer. “And now I’m in the way?”

  “Yes, you’ve become the unwanted guest who doesn’t know when to leave the party. I’ve spoken to our main shareholders and they would be supportive of my taking the reins. You’re not seen as cutting edge now. Give up or fight a futile battle; either way your life’s over.

  “No! There are still things I can do to stop you taking the company at least…”

  “Trust me, Leona and I have gone through your options and we’ve sewn things up pretty well. Don’t embarrass yourself, Mike.”

  The parachute jump had been a gift from his wife for his fortieth birthday and Dan had volunteered to go with him for moral support. At the time Mike had been touched by their thoughtfulness but now he knew it had been part of a long term plan they had come up with together. Mike closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

  Of course he could fight the divorce in the courts but it would be a public battle and Mike was an intensely private person. He was also a possessive man and the idea of holding back while everything he held dear was taken from him made his flesh crawl.

  The pilot indicated they had reached sufficient altitude and Dan stood up first, adjusting his own chute and helmet in readiness. He extended a hand to Mike in a gesture of goodwill but there was no good feeling left between the two men and after a few moments he shrugged and withdrew his hand. Dan jumped.

  Smug git, thought Mike who had checked both chutes twice as a safety precaution; if his didn’t open there would be no question of foul play. There would be an inquest of course but it would be a formality. To add insult to injury he remembered that Leona would do well out of his life insurance too.

  The roar of the wind silenced the tornado in Mike’s mind briefly and standing on the edge of the jump area he could actually see his house and land below.

  This wasn’t their first parachute jump but they had dutifully gone for the refresher training in order to be allowed to jump solo. That had been Dan’s idea too, thought Mike, sourly.

  Mike gave the instructor a nod and moved to the edge, feeling a heady mix of fear and adrenaline. Even despite everything that was happening, in that moment, he felt truly alive.

  He jumped.

  Air rushed up as he plummeted down, face contorted by the pressure, focussing on his home below. He spread his arms and legs to slow the decent. Below him, Dan was freefalling quickly but he was in control of his direction enough to move sideways so he was no longer directly below Mike. Obviously he was sure Mike would choose death and didn’t want complications when his own chute was deployed. Smart move.

  Mike knew Leona hadn’t been in love with him for some time but he’d hoped she still had some remnants of affection for their relationship or at least respect for their vows. He squinted hard to shake off the uninvited tears that came to his eyes.

  Leona’s red Ferrari could be seen speeding along the country lane outside their home, she always drove too fast and the car was easily going over the limit now. The bend at the end of the road was a sharp one yet the Ferrari didn’t slow down.

  The ground was getting closer.

  Despite the speed of his own descent, the moment his wife’s car failed to turn and smashed head-on into a large oak tree appeared to play out in slow motion. The bonnet crumpled into the driver’s seat, the car was thrown up by the force, flipped and came to a bone crushing heap by the side of the road with its wheels spinning. There was no way anyone could have survived.

  He pulled the cord; the parachute opened.

 
Dan was still on his freefall but even without seeing his face Mike knew he would’ve witnessed the accident. He wanted him to have seen the crash; it had been laid on for his benefit after all.

  Now the choice was Dan’s; deploy the parachute and grieve while searching for another job or die with the few shards of dignity he had left. It felt really good to be able to turn the tables.

  If Dan didn’t pull the cord soon it would be too late and his death would be another tragic accident, just like Josh’s three years earlier. Although granted, Josh’s death had been a lot easier to arrange.

  Mike had never told his wife that he knew about her affair with Josh and since she’d had the courtesy to mourn her lover in private he’d been able to put it behind him. As far as he knew there hadn’t been any others in the years between Josh and Dan and he’d spent enough on investigators and surveillance equipment to have found out if there were.

  Dan went over the point of no return with no parachute. Mike watched him cross his arms across his body and move his legs together to speed up his decent. He landed in a field of sun flowers.

  Gazing down in the peace of his gentle float to earth Mike could see a tow truck retrace the final journey of the Ferrari to clear the wreckage from the road. Leona was going to be pissed when she found out what he’d done to her car but all things considered she was getting off lightly. He could’ve asked his associates to put her in the car along with the jammed steering wheel and concrete block on the accelerator.

  Next time he would.

  Flicker

  The scratching in the walls began the day after Laura’s daughter, Sarah, returned home from the hospice. It didn’t seem important at the time.

  On the night the noise began Laura had been lying in bed, crying into her pillow and praying Sarah wouldn’t hear her. Wasn’t it enough to know you were going to die without the added burden of a mother who couldn’t keep it together?