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    F is for Fear: A-Z of Horror, #6
    F is for Fear: A-Z of Horror, #6
    F is for Fear: A-Z of Horror, #6
    Ebook273 pages4 hoursA-Z of Horror

    F is for Fear: A-Z of Horror, #6

    By P.J. Blakey-Novis

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    About this ebook

    F is for Fear, the sixth book in an epic series of twenty-six horror anthologies. Within these pages you will find a collection of thirteen nightmarish tales from some of the most talented independent writers on the scene today. From spiders to snakes to things that dwell in the dark, F is for Fear contains a variety of phobia-inducing stories that will set your heart racing. 

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRed Cape Publishing
    Release dateFeb 14, 2022
    ISBN9798201018610
    F is for Fear: A-Z of Horror, #6

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      Book preview

      F is for Fear - P.J. Blakey-Novis

      Red Cape Publishing Presents...

      The A-Z of Horror: F is for Fear

      DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      Copyright © 2020 Red Cape Publishing

      All rights reserved.

      Cover Design by Red Cape Graphic Design

      Www.redcapepublishing.com/red-cape-graphic-design

      Interior Artwork by Art Autopsy

      Www.redcapepublishing.com/art-autopsy

      With special thanks to our supporters on Patreon

      David Green

      Lesley Drane

      Tim Kellum

      Verona Jones

      Support us at www.patreon.com/redcapepublishing

      It Waits In The Shadows

      David Green

      I'm afraid to sleep.

      They've filled me with medication so my body ignores my mind screaming at it to stay awake. It's ironic. This is what it's like when it comes for me when I dream. When I lie there; my mind alert but my limbs paralysed by sleep's embrace.

      Every fibre of my being knows the next time I drift off, the nightmarish figure stalking my nights will come for me.

      My eyelids droop. The restraints holding my hands and feet to the bed's frame dig into my skin--they're for my safety, they say, but all they'll do is make me easier prey.

      Tears form in my eyes and drop onto my cheeks, running into my mouth and over my chin. I've no choice but to leave them on my damp face. Fear fills the droplets.

      I cannot stay awake much longer.

      ***

      The demon entered my dreams three weeks ago. I remember waking the first time, filled with panic and my heart racing but not remembering why--the nightmare faded as soon as I woke.

      I stumbled out of bed and threw on my dressing gown. A size too big and a disgusting faded orange colour, it belonged to my ex-boyfriend. I don't know why I kept it, the fewer things that reminded me of him the better.

      Roxy, my housemate, sat at the kitchen table--an enormous cup of coffee and two rounds of toast untouched as she flicked her way through her smartphone, a massive yawn cracking her jaws. She looked up as I entered the kitchen.

      Shit, Lauren, what the fuck were you doing last night? she asked, the bite of anger in her voice.

      What are you talking about? I said, switching the kettle on. Sleeping.

      Roxy ran a hand through her peroxide-blonde hair. I always thought her beautiful in a natural way, all the extra embellishments she added did her no favours. She'd even wear blue coloured contact lenses on nights out, masking her usual brown.

      Sleeping, she repeated. I thought you were slitting a cow's throat, the weird noises coming out of your room.

      I poured boiling water into my mug and spun to face her.

      And you didn't think to check on me?

      How old are you? Five? she said with a sly wink. Roxy never stayed mad for long.

      Sitting down opposite her, I closed my leaden eyes and sipped at the strong black coffee, letting the bitter liquid linger in my mouth a while.

      Had a nightmare, I think, I said after a while. Could hear my heart thumping in my ears when I woke up.

      Do you remember what you dreamt? Roxy asked, moving her phone to the side and giving me her full attention. She loved talking about dreams, horoscopes and all the astrology bullshit.

      No, I replied, pulling my phone from the dressing gown, sighing as I looked at the unresponsive screen. My battery hadn't charged all night. Mind if I borrow your charger while I get ready?

      Sure hun, Roxy said, reaching out and patting my hand. Lauren, you need to take it easy. You've looked so stressed out over the last month.

      I'd love to, I answered, looking at the clock on the oven. But work's busy, and I'll be late if I spend all morning chatting to you about terrible dreams.

      We should have a spa day this weekend! Roxy squealed, clapping her hands with delight. It'll be fab, just what you need. There's a new one just opened across from The Beatles museum in Liverpool city centre. Shall I book it?

      Roxy beamed when I nodded at her. Her planning began even before I headed back to my room for a quick shower and the long commute to work.

      ***

      All day, something watching me dogged my steps - on the train into Liverpool, at my desk, even when I locked myself in a cubicle for five minutes' peace. My skin itched with the feeling. I told myself that my mind was playing tricks on me--the troubled sleep, and the memory of a forgotten nightmare at the edges of my thoughts catching up with me.

      The self-reassurance did nothing to chase the sensation away. I made a few attempts to call Roxy but got her voicemail every time.

      I couldn't wait to get home.

      ***

      Sorry chick, Roxy said when I stalked into the apartment that evening and asked her about dodging my calls. Battery's dead, and you've got my charger, remember?

      Shit, I said, collapsing on the couch and kicking my high heels off. I'm sorry, my heads rammed up my arse today. Forgot to get an extra one today, too.

      No worries hun, we can share. Want a glass of wine?

      Roxy didn't wait for a reply, darting off into the kitchen and returning with two glasses, a corkscrew and an unopened bottle of red.

      This one's unreal, she said, unscrewing the wine like an expert, it's infused with chocolate.

      Delicious, I murmur, taking a sip after she's poured me a glass. I could get used to this.

      Wanna order a pizza and watch some Netflix?

      Right then, I hugged her. I hadn't felt right all day and my best friend knew it without me having to say.

      We polished off the bottle, a fourteen-inch pizza with garlic bread and dips and five episodes of Henry Cavill's latest show--his muscles and feral grunting were just what I needed. I'd forgotten my troubles by the time I headed to bed.

      Sleep came almost as soon as my head touched the pillow. I remember waking up at some point and needing to be pee. My task performed, I climbed back into bed and drifted back into my slumber.

      Some point later, I realised I wasn't sleeping. I'm not sure how long I lay there--half-awake, gazing up at the ceiling before panic rose from my stomach and flooded my chest. The earlier sensation, that eyes watched me, battered at me again. Afraid to move, I rolled my widened eyes around my bedroom, sure that I'd see someone.

      I saw no-one.

      Deciding to lift my head for a better look, I inched my elbows up to push me from the bed. Only they didn't respond. The panic inside urged me to fight, and I tried so fucking hard to lift my head, to move my toes even, but nothing would work. My instincts told me I wasn't alone, that something gazed at my helpless body and that I had to move. The panic reached a crescendo and I screamed.

      A mumble slid from my lips. The useless adrenaline in my veins urged me to scream for help, and all my body betrayed me, producing a pathetic noise just above a whisper.

      Without warning, I jerked forward. The alarm on my phone blared. I panted, soaked in sweat as if I'd ran a marathon. My head swivelled as I scanned my room. Nothing seemed out of place. I snoozed the alarm and crashed back onto my mattress, but not to sleep. My heart, racing with fear, wouldn't allow that.

      ***

      The next day proceeded like the last, except with my paranoia kicked up a notch. People on the train flinched when I looked at them with suspicion, and my colleagues avoided me, only engaging with me when they had to.

      I ignored two calls from Roxy. After the second bounced to my voicemail, she texted me.

      Are you OK, hun? xxx

      Knowing I had to reply, as she'd have seen the read message icon, I typed back.

      Yeah, so busy X

      Seconds later, Roxy's reply sent my phone vibrating.

      Don't forget to buy a new charger xxx

      Why don't you fucking buy one? I typed out, then deleted it with a frustrated sigh. Roxy didn't deserve my anger.

      For the rest of the afternoon, I buried myself in work. That watchful feeling stabbed at me like a knife between my shoulder blades. Instead of getting the train, I ordered a taxi to take me home. £50 well-spent. The sensation still nagged at me, but I knew that the taxi driver, with his quick glances in his rear-view mirror and banal attempts at small talk, was the only person watching me.

      ***

      Wanna watch some TV with me, babe? Roxy said as she walked into the kitchen. I'd arrived home first and wanted to avoid her. I hadn't bought a new charger, and I didn't have the energy for company.

      Nah, gonna go straight to bed, I'm wrecked, I replied, buttering some toast. I didn't have much appetite but needed to force something down my throat. Sorry, didn't get a charger again. No chance to leave the office. I'll get one tomorrow, promise.

      That's all right hun, Roxy said, giving me a quick hug. I'm off the rest of the week, I can charge mine during the day. Spend the money on a bottle of wine or two instead.

      I laughed despite myself, before giving her a kiss on the cheek and heading for my room. It had just gone 8pm and even though my body craved sleep, I feared it. Figuring I'd watched too much Netflix, I read. Sitting up and propping my head with a few pillows, I leafed through the first Harry Potter book--hoping something bright and inoffensive would put my mind at ease. I don't know when, but some hours later, I sank into sleep.

      ***

      My eyes opened, and I looked around at the deep gloom that smothered my bedroom. The corners appeared darker than they should--pockets of twilight with God knows what lurking within them. I glanced downwards. The book I'd held had fallen from my grasp and lay open. Still half-asleep, I reached out for it.

      My fucking arm refused to move.

      Help, I muttered. I wanted to scream it, but that's all I could manage.

      Tears welled in my eyes, and the gloom seemed to darken. Shadows stirred at the end of my bed.

      Roxy, help. I threw everything I had into it, making the sound of a mewling calf.

      I knew something in the shadows watched me. That night, I felt its sharp hatred and something else. Amusement. Whatever invaded my dreams, this thing that paralysed me, enjoyed my fear. Realisation hit me--my dread strengthened it, but I felt powerless to stop the mounting horror inside me.

      As I stared towards the foot of my bed, unable to even crack my jaw wide enough to call for help, slitted red eyes gazed back.

      Help me! I yelled, elongating the last syllable.

      The door crashed open, and Roxy flicked on the lights. I tipped forwards, like someone tied me to the wall with a rope and had cut it.

      Jesus, Lauren, you're making that fucking noise again!

      I wept, the relief and fear flooding out of me.

      Sorry, I managed between the sobs. I don't know what's happening to me.

      Shit, Roxy said, climbing on to the bed. Fuck, your sheets are soaking. Alright, get changed and jump into bed with me. We'll figure this out in the morning.

      Nodding my head, I let her help me up and out of my nightdress. It clung to my skin.

      Think I need a shower first, I whispered, feeling ashamed.

      Excellent idea, Roxy said. Want me to wait here for you?

      I wanted to tell her it wasn't safe, to flee to her room and lock the door until I knocked on it. As I gazed around my bedroom, the one I'd slept in for seven years, I knew she'd laugh at me and my nightmares.

      Roxy sat on my bed as I entered the shower, wondering if a nervous breakdown had started.

      ***

      Roxy tried to take care of me the next day.

      Only three more days till the weekend, she said, plonking a cup of coffee in front of me. Our trip to the spa will sort you out. Why don't you ring in sick?

      Can't, I replied, shaking my head. I'd love to, but we're mad busy.

      I'm sure the office could have spared me for a day, but truth be told, I wanted to get as far from my bedroom as possible. My memory of the previous night wasn't playing tricks on me. I saw red eyes watching me, and I hadn't dreamt it.

      A silent taxi ride delivered me to work on time, the driver reading my mood and deciding not to bother me with questions about what I did for a living? or why didn't I have a boyfriend? I slunk to my desk, coffee in hand and Googled sleep paralysis.

      I'd heard about it; Roxy had told me she'd suffered from it before--with copious amounts of alcohol consumed each time. It'd never happened to me, though. I figured if I knew more about the situation, I could control my fear and keep whatever fed off it at bay.

      For once, Google didn't tell me my symptoms were cancerous and would cause death.

      I sighed with relief as I read a Wikipedia page on all things related to sleep paralysis--paying particular attention to the entry marked 'Hallucinations'.

      The encyclopaedia told me about hallucinations of figures wrapped in shadows, of entities watching you sleep. That a rising intense panic and fear were common. I read with interest about famous works of art inspired by the phenomena; those afflicted painted images of demons floating above their sleeping bodies.

      As I scanned through pictures associated with it, my breath caught in my throat. Someone illustrated the same slitted red eyes that gazed back at me the previous night.

      I clicked on the website the image came from, leaning forward in my seat.

      A Harmless Condition? Something IS Coming For You. Ten Urban Myths About Sleep Paralysis That WILL Keep You Awake Long Into The Night.

      I knew I should have stopped reading, but I couldn't help myself. My skin pricked with each word, cold washing over my body and causing goosebumps to sprout and my hair to stand on end. The article told me about death and madness--creatures that stalked the night, devouring their powerless prey.

      Sleep paralysis? It's a bastard.

      The voice and weight on the back of my chair caused a scream to erupt from my throat. People swivelled their heads my way, and I turned to look up at Andy, my ex. I slapped him as hard as I could, taking out days of frustration on his gormless face. I hated that we still worked together, but that moment made it worthwhile.

      You prick, I hissed, watching him stagger back. Why the fuck did you sneak up on me? Bet you're the one who's been watching me all week, you little creep.

      Andy glanced around as he rubbed at his face, one side red from the slap, the other through embarrassment.

      What the fuck are you talking about, Lauren? he whispered, venom dripping from his voice. I saw what you were looking at and thought I'd help. Can do nothing right, can I?

      I breathed in a lungful of air and let it out while counting to ten.

      Sorry, I muttered. It's been a tough week.

      Right, Andy said, kneeling down to my level. Can see why you're getting sleep paralysis. Stress, and that's what you need to worry about. Call in to the health store on your break and buy something to help. Worked for me.

      Thanks, I said, I'll do that. Sorry for the slap.

      Andy grinned at me.

      Ah, deserved it for sneaking up on you, didn't I?

      With a wink he sauntered away, the conversation highlighting why we weren't together anymore, and why sometimes I wished we were.

      ***

      I followed the instructions on the packet of stress relief tablets I bought. The man working in the shop assured me they'd help me sleep better too. Something about the chamomile, lemon balm and B-vitamins. Roxy wasn't there when I got home, so I grabbed a bite to eat, swallowed my tablets and lounged around on the couch.

      Tension leaked out of my muscles. I hadn't realised how high I'd been holding my shoulders, even when I lazed about at home. The thought of sleeping bothered me, but the prospect of an uninterrupted night appealed. I changed the bedsheets and jumped into the shower, before getting under the covers and enjoying the fresh sheets on my skin. Warm, safe, and relaxed, I drifted off to sleep.

      ***

      I lay there, staring up at the ceiling for a while before I knew I'd woken up. I didn't move, thinking any panic would make hallucinations worse. Instead, I let my eyes lose their focus and hoped the paralysis would pass.

      The longest thirty seconds of my life went by.

      My mind felt too alert. I tested my body, willing my right hand's little finger to move. Not even a twitch.

      My ears picked up guttural, harsh whispers. I reminded myself of the Wikipedia entry, that sounds were all a part of the hallucinations and closed my eyes, willing my breathing to remain normal and my heart not to race. I counted.

      As I reached ten, my mattress moved as

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