Nightmare Fuel: The Ultimate Collection of Short Horror Tales Page 12

  Rolling forwards he hit sand. Pebbles and rocks scratched Will's back, but that was nothing compared to the still existent pain at his foot. Still swinging, still dangling, and still devouring. These piranhas just wouldn't quit. In a panicked haze Will reached for a small rock and began smacking each of them one by one. The chunk of boulder slowly but surely made the teeth pull out. Soon they completely lost their hold, helplessly wiggling on land, struggling for breath. Their tails wiggled and upper bodies spasmed. That was when Will noticed the carnage the little critters had made.

  The foot was now more comparable to a bowl of spaghetti. Bloody, bone visible, veins dangling like string cheese. So he continued to pound the piranhas. He pulverized the red scaled sea monsters with vigour, taking great pleasure in their kill. Smack, smack, smack. Until all that remained were two sloppy lumps of red fins and a shattered skeleton and squashed, jelly-like eyes. One part that did remain undamaged through the battery, were the two sets of teeth. Will, gazing at each set of jagged teeth completely understood how they could cause so much harm to his foot in so little time with the white daggers that were before him. Clumps of piranha were spread around the jaws, tangles of arteries and other body parts. Will was joyous at the extermination of the predators. But the feeling of accomplishment was short lived when the mermaid began bellowing like a demon. She was not so happy.

  Will was no longer smug and satisfied at the grizzly termination of the piranhas, but now terrified at what else this evil mermaid was going to send after him. And no longer than he thought it, did it happen. One by one, predators came from the woods. At first Will was unsure what they were. From a distance they were nothing more than moving clumps of fur. But within the fur were eyes. And within those eyes was hunger and viciousness. A pack of wolves crept from the bark, slowly approaching Will, at the mermaid's command. Piranhas were one thing, but wolves were another entirely. More and more kept sprouting from the green. Their brown fur had been camouflaged against the bark. But now, against the rocks and grey boulders, they were clearly visible. The deceitful sea creature pointed a finger at Will, with a sinister grin. When each member of the pack sped their pace and made for their target, Will got the hell out of there. He fled naked through the bushes, dick swinging and the little fat he had jiggling. The pain of his foot made it difficult to run. But he figured one limb in slight anguish, or get eaten alive by ravenous wolves. That forced a life-preserving attitude to kick in. So he ran. Heart pounding, skin tingling, lungs ablaze, and one foot screaming out. He swung around trees, jumped over rocks, and avoided steep mounts. They were much faster than the killer fish. Paws pouncing were not far behind. Vicious growling echoed as the woods began to turn unnaturally dark. At midday the sun was now retiring. It sank into the sky and fell away, as the moon took its place. This made it considerably more difficult to run. Will repeatedly lost his footing and took many tumbles. Knees pulsing with agony and body wearing down. Trees seemed to breed. No longer was there reasonable space between thick bulks of brown, but now Will had to turn and conform to squeeze through the gaps. But judging by the increasing volume from the beasts, they had no difficulty making their way through the abundance of trees. Will questioned why they hadn't reached him yet. He was pretty sure wolves had night vision, plus this was their territory, everything was familiar to them. God was on their side. The odds didn't look great for the naked running human. Yet they still hadn't got their bounty. Were they intentionally staying a way behind as to scare him? Did they need to work up an appetite first? Were they getting more pleasure out of the chase than the kill? All these enigmas and more ran through Will's mind in his frantic gallop through the wilderness. But how the sun had vanished at this time of the day was beyond any explanation Will could conceive. This surrealism was terrifying. The odd, unexplainable darkness only made everything more terrifying. Until Will came to an abrupt stop when a wolf came in front. The yellow eyes were the only visible thing at first. Until Will's night vision highlighted the furry body surrounding the yellow ovals. Before he could make a second move, Will was surrounded. Famished beasts circled the helpless human for an impending slaughter. They began growling into the night. Each took steady steps to their evening meal. Paws crunched through dirt and leaves as the circle of wolves became tighter. Will was frightened, but a part of him was relieved. He was exhausted. Body drained of energy, and multiple injuries throbbing. In the midst of his consideration to just give in, his feet, yet again, became muddled. A tangled mass of limbs that sent him falling through the soil and landing in a small square underground. He landed with a thud as straw fell down with him.

  Instantly his head thumped with the added disorientation of a whooshing sound circling his skull. Straw continued to fall like snow, landing on the muddy ground. The pit was completely dark, save for the minimal light brought in by the moon. There was nothing but rock walls wrapped in straw and soil. Roots from trees hung above, curly but sturdy. The wolves surrounded the hole, glaring down. But all Will could see was a bunch of eyes all around him, floating high above. But the only worry that he was concerned about, was if they would jump down into the cavity. If they did that, he would be done for. But it was quite a long drop, so would the wolves risk leg or paw injuries? Then the best possible scenario occurred: the beasts, one by one, left. Soon enough the yellow eyes had stopped bordering the newly formed dent and no doubt gone back to their finned master.

  Will exhaled, realising he had injured his legs upon doing so. They weren't broken, but applying pressure would no doubt be painful.

  “Would you like some help my dear?”

  A voice came from the gloom. Will's head frantically whipped left and right, desperately trying to identify the sound, and praying it belonged to a friendly individual.

  “Oh my apologies.”

  Again, the unknown voice said. But then it occurred to Will that he recognised that voice. From the dusk a candle was lit and a haggard face came into light. The voice belonged to the crazy lady from the hotel: Haggis.

  “Now now, let us see what we can do about those legs. Sometimes amputation is the only option,” she smiled, with rotten teeth and a mischievous, terrifying grin.

  Will simply screamed. But nothing would deter the insane woman.

  The Change

  Russell sped into the hotel room, anxious and jittery. He bolted the door shut and frantically closed the curtains. Flinging his belongings aside he hauled ass into the bathroom. Marble furnishings, glass shelves and gold fittings made up the gigantic room. A room full of extravagance was lost on Russell as his nerves were still in tatters. It was coming, stalking him, lurking in every dark corner or crevice that could accommodate its huge, domineering shadow. It had crept from the fabric of nightmares and delved into reality. It wasn't that time of the month, but it was here, it was going to happen, unless he got a handle on himself. Being reminded of the entities existence made Russell slam the door and run a bath. The tinkling water fortunately had a soothing effect. To say this was needed would be a drastic understatement. An array of bubble baths were neatly lined on a shelf above the hot tub. Lavender, citrus, rose petal and coconut were the options, in antique glass jars. Knowing the calming properties of Lavender, he retrieved it from the counter and let it flow. Foamy bubbles formed as the stream from the container met with the steamy water. It didn't take long for steam to consume the room, fogging the mirrors. Just as it didn't take long for the tub to fill. Before he knew it, the bath was ready. Russell didn't hesitate for a second as he eased his feet into the warmth. Muscles relaxed and unclenched as he lowered limb by limb.

  He breathed deep as his guide had taught him. Russell closed his eyes and fought for control. On any given day meditation was easy. His ability to block out thoughts, distractions, worries and stress creators was surprisingly easy. But not tonight. Anger and humiliation at the hotel restaurant had brought back feelings he thought were long gone. How could he have been so naive? He ran fingers along his slippery flesh, smearing bubble
s and splashing lavender doused water everywhere. As much as he was beginning to feel calmer it apparently hadn't helped. As he rubbed the thick foams around his body, he felt fur already sprouting from his flesh. Hundreds upon hundreds of brown hairs were mutating, covering flesh. Russell had grown accustomed to the pain of supernatural hair growth, hair follicles barging their way through layers of stubborn epidermis. It was the fangs tearing his gums apart and nails piercing his fingers and toes that was excruciating. And as soon as hair had overtaken his flesh, forcing skin to vanish, the nails came. Spiky, long and pointed. Blood oozed from his fingers as if they'd been dipped in red paint, dripping into the water, turning bubbles red. More crimson liquid expelled from his toes, mixing with the scented water, transforming the transparent liquid to a dark burgundy through expanding clouds of redness.

  “Please God help me!” Russell begged, weeping silently.

  But God wasn't listening. Fangs tore through gums as he screeched. His screams bounced off the marble, ricocheting off every surface. His mouth filled with blood, drooling from each corner, falling down his chest and matting the beastly hair. All the while he continued to shriek. The acoustics in the bathroom were comparable to that of a large theatre, carrying his voice throughout the room, and no doubt to the entire floor.

  Soon fangs had taken place of teeth, his nose had transformed into a moist snout, and eyes were now yellow, with black vertical slits in the center. His cries became growls as his vocal cords also took a turn for the worst. The metamorphosis was almost complete. The last part was the adaptation of his spine. Cracks, snaps and pops as his spine disassembled itself and regrew longer, and with a curl.

  Russell was no more. And all he could think about, even in his monster state, was the incredibly rude woman downstairs that had brought on this change. It wasn't even a full moon, but she enraged him so much, she had forced a premature mutation. Time to get revenge. The werewolf whistled into the night, breaking from the hotel room and galloping down the halls, slashing and gashing anything it passed. It salivated at the sensory memory of the taste of flesh, an insatiable appetite growing, for that of the bad mannered lady.

  The Haunted Church

  The large grey family vehicle came screeching to a halt in the horrendous downpour. Tyres rumbled against gravel, spitting golden specs and wafting coffee coloured clouds up from the ground. The second the van came to a full stop the family fled the vehicle and raced towards an ageing church. Rotting wood, peeling paint and boarded windows made up the old place of worship. But they had no choice. Rick and Susan grabbed their girls from the back seat and lugged them to the front door, each praying it would be unlocked. Fortunately, it was. The abandoned, neglected church stood in the thick of a forest, beside a small gravel path that was littered with a few crumbling headstones. The family had been driving along when the weather became unbearable. They couldn't stay in the van as they were running dangerously low on gas and couldn't afford to keep the car turned on for heat. They were beginning to panic when one of God's many sanctums came into sight. Following this, they each wrapped up in thick, dark winter clothing and rushed into the building. Each showered by the spiky, heavy rain.

  Rick kicked open the door, releasing an almighty creak. That unsettled Rick as he would have thought any creakiness would have been prevented by the rain lubricating everything in sight. They were presented with a huge hall with tiny slivers of dim evening light peeking through cracks in the boarded windows. Rick held his three-year-old Sally while Susan helped their five-year-old Kirsty. Each parent tread carefully, fearing termites had ravaged this long forgotten place. Beads of water dripped from the corners and trailed the badly plastered walls.

  "Daddy, I don't like it in here," Sally whispered to her father, squeezing him tighter.

  "It's okay princess, it's just until the rain gives up a little," he soothed with a delicate voice.

  "But what if it never stops?" the young girl asked with a worried look painted on her wet, red face, peeking from a thick hood like an Eskimo.

  "It will stop, I promise," he smiled, kissing her damp forehead where stray moist hair strands were pressed to her skin.

  Uneven paintings and photographs hung from the dirty walls. Light fixtures were draped in tonnes of dust and cobwebs, spiders creeping down the rusty fittings. An altar lay at the front of the room, with a huge Jesus sculpture suspended from the ceiling. How it had remained that way was chilling. The church looked like it could barely hold its form, let alone carry a heavy replica of Jesus Christ.

  "So we just wait it out yeah?" Susan asked her husband whilst holding a scared little girl, eyes darting everywhere, unsettled by the mass of darkness.

  "Yeah, I guess," he shrugged, putting Sally down. The instant her feet touched the ground she grabbed her daddy's leg and clung on for dear life.

  "Princess, you have to let go so daddy can walk," he grinned at how adorable she was. Sally reluctantly released but stayed close to Rick.

  Susan also lowered Kirsty. But being slightly older she simply stood, frozen. Her eyes still exploring the scary building, inspecting the darkened corners. Whilst rubbing her aching shoulders Susan noticed a bunch of chairs crammed into the corner just beside the altar.

  "Rick, chairs," she pointed.

  They all scurried to the cheap, tacky chairs fashioning dust and drops of rainwater. But each could care less as they were beyond exhaustion and desperately needed to sit. They each grabbed a chair and huddled together, conserving heat as the church was just as cold as outside, if not colder.

  "I need the bathroom," Sally moaned, face creased.

  Great! Rick thought. They had been sat barely five minutes and he would have to get up again.

  "Come on then," Rick picked up his daughter and headed for a corner of the room clouded in darkness. The agile father had noticed a gleaming door handle hidden in the murk, perhaps to a toilet with any luck.

  "Wait daddy, aren't we going outside?" Sally was clearly reluctant to go wandering in the blackness.

  "No sweety, it's still raining really bad and it isn't safe outside. There should be a bathroom inside."

  "Okay," she pouted.

  Rick turned on the spot and stared at Susan. "Keep an eye on Kirsty while I'm gone please," he smiled.

  "But daddy, I am a grown up," Kirsty spoke so comically Rick had to grin.

  "I know princess, but mummy still needs to keep you safe in case you get hurt okay? And mummy needs you to keep her safe as well, can you do that?" he asked.

  "Yes daddy, I will keep mummy safe," she nodded, behaving unbelievably cute.

  Rick carried his youngest through the dusk, coughing on dust particles swimming in the air. The dark was thick and stale, he sniffed mould and faeces. Which made him think they were in fact headed to a bathroom. He grabbed the cold shiny handle and twisted it. The door didn't even need a nudge as it fell open for them. It welcomed the father and daughter to a filthy bathroom, white tiles covered in grit, dirt, grime and dust. Taps and pipes were rusting and glass was strewn across the floor; it crunched underfoot as Rick entered the rankness. Which is when he decided to carry her to the cubicle that was nestled in a corner, just aside another boarded window. The rain was leaking through one of the boarded windows and pooling on the disgusting tiled floor, filling the cracks and slowly flooding the place.

  "Okay princess, we have to make it quick," he told her as they went inside the only cubicle, walls covered in graffiti and various stains. Rick slowly lowered his daughter as he wiped away some dirt from the toilet seat, using his sleeve to send black and brown muck onto the tiles. He didn't even want Sally to sit down at the toilet, but they didn't have any choice. There were no seat covers in such an outdated, deserted church. Which made him check the toilet roll holder. Fortunately, and surprisingly, there were a few sheets left. As he was about to ask Sally to get on the toilet he saw her already sat, urine tinkling into the dirty water. It only seemed like yesterday when she was wearing pull ups; now she cou
ld go all by herself. Life moves too fast! He pondered.

  "The seat is cold on my butt," Sally chuckled, cheeks dimpling, resulting in a little laugh from her father. Soon enough she was done.

  "Finished daddy," she straightened up and lifted her arms, ready for him to cart her off the seat.

  Sally reached for the toilet roll and pulled a couple of sheets off, wiping herself and then shimmying up her thick winter trousers. Rick had been preoccupied, reading some of the scribblings scratched onto the inside of the cubicle door. Please stop, let me out, save us, help us, if you find this place leave now, they will kill you. An icy chill slithered down Rick's back as he read warning after warning. He was now questioning if they would be safer in the rain than some worn down old church. They were on a road trip and had never been to the area, maybe he'd been slightly foolish to assume just because it's a church, that it's automatically a safe place for shelter.