Tag Archives: frightening

The New Guy by Dex Rivers ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th

Please help me welcome Dex Rivers with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series,  The New Guy...

Fun Facts:

My story is loosely inspired by a movie I watched years ago called Sometimes They Come Back. Have you seen it? It’s pretty wicked/cool.

Another Fun Fact…

I wanted a mention of Elvis Presley in my story. I also wanted the prologue to take place in the 1950s and my character to be at a movie theater and for a murder to happen on a Friday the 13th. Jailhouse Rock was released in November, 1957 and, as it turns out, December 13, 1957 was a Friday. I love it when a plan comes together.

 

 

Blurb:

Brielle hates being the new girl at school. She’s made exactly one friend and her fellow students’ favorite activity is tormenting her. Then a new guy arrives in town. He’s offbeat, with a low-key retro vibe like he’s from another century, but she likes him. And he somehow understands what she’s going through.

When one of the mean kids is murdered on Friday the 13th, Brielle isn’t sorry. But when another ends up dead, she starts to freak out and wonders if the new guy is involved. Is the killer only taking out bullies, or does she have reason to fear for her life?

Excerpt:

Mariah slapped her hands down on the book Bri held and knocked it to the floor. When Bri bent to pick it up, Hannah brought her knee up into Bri’s nose. Pain exploded in her head and warm liquid ran over her mouth and chin. Bri cried out and slapped her hand over her nose, tilting her head back to stem the blood. She tried not to cry but it hurt like hell and she was bleeding all over the place. She could taste the rusty fluid dripping down her throat.

Male laughter rang in her years. She squinted one eye open and looked over Mariah’s shoulder. Gabe, Eric, and Hayden stood there, laughing and pointing.

“Ironic, huh?” Gabe said. “Yesterday, you stuck a pig, now you’re bleeding like one.”

Trinity stepped forward. “You assholes. What is wrong with you? Leave her alone.”

“Fuck off, nerd.” Hayden shoved Trinity’s shoulders. She stumbled back into the lockers and landed hard on her ass.

Carley and Hannah had joined them and the six of them were guffawing like a bunch of hyenas.

“Apologize.” A low male voice broke through the laughter. The words weren’t said loudly, but they held a command that got everyone’s attention.

A guy Bri didn’t recognize was helping Trinity to her feet. His face was pale and he wore his dark, wavy hair in a retro, slicked back style. He was slender, but she could see defined muscles beneath the white t-shirt he wore under a leather jacket. He took a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and gently laid it on Brielle’s bleeding nose.

“What did you say, freak?” Gabe puffed out his chest and glared at the newcomer.

“I said, apologize. To both these ladies. Right now.”

Gabe shook his head in disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, then his expression suddenly changed as he stared at the new guy. His mouth clamped shut and his face paled. “I—what the—” He moved backward, and his posse moved with him. “What the actual fuck?”

Bri frowned and looked at the guy. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. “What just happened?”

The new guy shrugged. “You okay?”

She nodded.

Trinity’s face split in a wide grin. “Bri, meet Vince Ramono. The new guy.

About the Author…

I live on the East Coast where I spend my free time devouring horror novels. I enjoy them so much, I sometimes wonder if something is wrong with me… To be safe, I decided to channel my affinity for the macabre into writing about it rather than acting it out…you’re welcome.

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How to Trap a Soul by Tamrie Foxtail ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th

Please help me welcome Tamrie Foxtail with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series,  How to Trap a Soul...

Interesting Fact:

 

Growing up I had a friend named Mary. We lived one street apart from the time I was seven.

My Junior year of high school I was walking down the hall when another friend ran up to me and said, “Did you hear about Mary? She was murdered last night!” Kids on their way to school had found her body in a field.

That was the year I began to think about murder. I couldn’t help wondering what went through the mind of both the killer and their victim. I’ve often wondered at what point my friend realized the person she was with intended to strangle her to death. What were her thoughts? Did her life flash before her eyes? Was she filled with thoughts of her family? Her infant daughter? Was there time to regret the things she would never have a chance to do?

What goes through the mind of the killer? Is there a moment when they think “I could stop. I don’t have to do this.”

I married a Federal Police Officer, so talk of murder was common in our house. Even so, all these years later, I’m still haunted by the memory of my childhood friend who had her life and her future stolen from her.

 

Blurb:

He only kills women who have thirteen letters in their name; so why is he after Melissa Richardson?

After Lissa’s roommate is murdered, she becomes convinced the killer is after her. The police are quick to point out that Lissa doesn’t quite fit the profile of the Number Thirteen Killer’s victims, but she can feel him watching her.

He collects the souls of beautiful young women. He knows something special about Lissa—something that makes her soul more precious than most. All the others have been leading up to her. Her soul will be the jewel of his collection.

Lissa’s right to be frightened. The killer is someone close to her—and he’s moving closer.

Excerpt:

“You’re very beautiful,” he said as his hands tightened around her throat.

She clawed at him as he knew she would, but the gloves and flannel protected his skin.

One bright red fingernail popped off.

He kept up the pressure. Her hands fell away. She began sinking to her knees. He followed her down, letting up on the pressure—just a little—enough to allow some small amount of oxygen to reach her brain. He pulled the mirror from his pocket and set it on the ground.

Again, his fingers dug into her neck, cutting off blood flow and oxygen, this time for good.

Her breath ceased; her body slumped.

He let go of her and picked up the compact, turning it this way and that until he caught a thin, smoky wisp darting to one side.

Ah, there it was. Her soul.

About the Author…

 

Tamrie Foxtail was raised in the sunshine state. She married the best man she ever met, an Okie who brought her to the Sooner State. As soon as she recovered from a rather serious case of culture shock, she fell in love with Oklahoma and its people.

She loves books, carousels, scrapbooking, and coffee. She works with the special education program in her local school district.

Tamrie is published with The Wild Rose Press and is a member of Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc. and Central Region Oklahoma Writers.

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A Gentleman from the Darkness by Mark Edward Jones ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th

Please help me welcome Mark Edward Jones with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series,  A Gentleman from the Darkness...

Fun Fact:

I had been outlining a prequel series to my current Detective Henry Ike Pierce series. It included the origin stories of several of the protagonists and antagonists. I adapted that idea with a thin layer of paranormal activity from the main antagonist for a Friday the 13th

Blurb:

It is 1968, and the secretive Group of Thirty has resisted the new Czech regime installed after the Prague Spring. Professor Valentýn Hrubý leads this campus group, fighting for the reforms crushed by Russian tanks. Hrubý keeps lists to help his forgetfulness, and the authorities discover one of these lists, one that shows the names of his associates. The new government hires an assassin to track and dispose of the group’s members. Dressed in a three-piece suit and topped by his ever-present black fedora, Karanosz Tasev stalks his prey.

It is Friday, twelve days before Christmas, and the wolf has arrived.

Excerpt:

Dominika let her kitchen door drift open, pushed by a frigid gust. All appeared as they had left it—no power, but the moon glowed in the clearing skies, shafts of light flashing through the shabby curtains. Still shivering, she slunk into the living room. All seemed quiet.

She sucked a deep breath, knowing it was time. The creepy, moldy basement waited with its archaic circuit breaker box hung from a wooden stud near the last step. The door squealed as they all did in this residence, and she instinctively reached to the left, flipping the light switch as if it would do any good. Moonlight filtered through the half window at the basement’s ceiling, offering a sliver of white flowing into the dungeon-like space. She slid her hand gently down the splintery rail and counted the seven steps to the bottom.

Dominika had never had the strength to snap open the latch to the circuit box’s cover. Valentýn had always been the one to take care of this, including replacing dead fuses. But had he not shut the lid the last time? The latch dangled, and spider webs hung fragmented below the box, dancing in the stirred air. She spewed an icy breath, guessing this was not her husband’s doing.

She yanked open the cold metal cover. The individual breakers were on, but the master switch had flipped. She used both hands to pull the switch up. A flash over the stairs, and a yellow glow flooded the dusty space. Dominika exhaled, at once proud she had fixed the issue but wondering how many lights she had left on while running about the house that evening.

She clutched her stomach, consciously slowing her breaths … the sounds, though. Her chest movements slowed, but the breaths grew faster and heavier. She sucked in and held, but the breathing continued. She touched the rail and took a step.

A round object ground into the middle of her back. A man’s snicker blew against her neck, followed by a whiff of cigarettes and body odor.

“Surprise,” a voice mumbled with a heavy Russian accent.

A silhouette emerged from under the stairs. It bumped into the staircase, knocking a fedora cockeyed as the man came into the light. She shivered while she mouthed his name—Tasev.

About the Author…

Mark retired from higher education finance in 2017 and started writing as a new career. The first of the Detective Henry Ike Pierce series, Peculiar Activities, was published in October 2021. The second in the series, Shadowed Souls, is in the editing phase will a publication later in 2022. A Gentleman from the Darkness is his first short story, and his first in a Friday the 13th

Website: mejbooksllc.com     Email: mejbookllc@gmail.com    Buy Links: Books2Read

Facebook: mejbooksllc       Twitter: @mejbooksllc          Instagram: @markjones_author

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The Last Wife by Krysta Scott ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th

Please help me welcome Krysta Scott with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series,  The Last Wife...

Fun Fact:

There is a tiny black cat in this story named ‘Spot’. When I was in college, I had a black cat and couldn’t think about what to name it. My roommate suggested the name ‘Spot’. I protested that was a dog’s name. She acknowledged this was true but enjoyed the irony of calling a cat ‘Spot’. She offered a compromise. Why don’t I name the cat ‘Ink Spot’ and we could call him ‘Spot’ for short. That worked. I liked the irony in his name too. That’s why Spot makes an appearance in this story.

 

Blurb:

Delaney Endicott’s boring job covering social events for the local paper is not enough to feed her lust for a hot story. So when she learns of unsolved murders close to her hometown that seem to be connected, she dives in to investigate. Her involvement intensifies when she receives threats from the killer, and she knows she’s close to breaking the case wide open.

Before she realizes what’s happening, Delaney is caught in a sadistic trap and in a fight for her very survival.

Excerpt:

Maggie,

Well, I met someone at work. This probably doesn’t sound anything like me, but the attraction was instantaneous. One minute he was sitting in the chair next to me, the next we were giving each other soul searching stares. It was like I’d always known him. He gets me and he totally understands how lost I am without my family. It’s impossible to describe how he lifts up my mood. Even when I’m having one of those foreboding feelings, he shows up and all my fears disappear. I don’t worry when he’s around. It’s so strange but also wonderful. Wish you could meet him. I know you’d like him.

Love always,

Delaney

She’d left out the part about how anxious she was when he wasn’t around. How anxious she felt at that very moment. That was the confusing part. It was more than the impression something bad was going to happen. It was a shaky sweaty need that could only be cured by his presence. She’d never experienced anything like this before. In truth she was a little scared.

About the Author…

Krysta Scott has always been a daydreamer, imagining worlds far away with happy endings. When she was in fifth grade, she was so caught up in fantasy she earned the dubious distinction of being named the girl who daydreams the most. The award for this questionable honor was a colorful transparent plastic poster made to look like stained glass. It was very cool. Given her flights of fancy, it came as no surprise to her family when she announced she was going to be an actress. Unfortunately, her pursuit into theater didn’t last long, because she was too withdrawn and shy to exhibit any talent in this area. Left with no other choice but to pursue a more practical avocation, she decided to major in psychology and then go to law school. Not able to let go of the worlds she created in her head, she returned to writing. She is excited to be a part of the Friday the 13th series.

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Little Darlings by Alicia Dean ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th #ahagrp

Please help me welcome myself with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series,  Little Darlings...

Fun Fact:

I got the idea for my story from my cousin during a family reunion. He mentioned the legend of the Black-Eyed Children and it sparked the idea. (While our family members were discussing their children and grandchildren and swapping recipes, he and I were discussing horror and the best ways to creep people out. :)) Supposedly, people have actually encountered these frightening little beasts, though I haven’t actually heard of the Black-Eyed Kids murdering anyone…until my story. 🙂 The below is an interesting article about the legend:

Black-eyed Kids: The Chilling Legend that Began in Abilene

Blurb:

Mollie Burrows and her friends, Caroline and Beth, rent a cabin in Colorado for a therapeutic getaway. Beth is despondent after a recent miscarriage and Mollie hopes the trip will alleviate Beth’s depression. The owner of the general store in town warns them about the Black-Eyed Kids—supernatural entities who pose as children and terrorize anyone who allows them into their homes—but Mollie scoffs at the ridiculous notion.

Not long after they get settled, four children knock on their door—and their eyes are as black as a starless night. Beth is drawn to them and is ready to offer them shelter, but Mollie and Caroline are freaked out and refuse.

When Mollie discovers the bodies of obviously murdered victims, she realizes the store owner was telling the truth. As the evil children begin their homicidal rampage, their determination to gain entry into the cabin becomes terrifying. Help won’t arrive until the following morning and a long, torturous night looms ahead. Can Mollie and Caroline prevent Beth from opening the door to the Little Darlings? If not, they could all end up dead.

Excerpt:

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she stood again, this time remaining on her feet. Unsteadily, she crossed the room and gripped the curtain in her hand, tugging it back just enough to peer around it. Involuntarily, she yelped. The same four children stood on the other side of the glass. Rain poured down on them, but they seemed oblivious to the fact they were getting soaked.

The tallest girl swiveled her head toward Mollie, black eyes gleaming beneath the patio light. Mollie’s heart leapt into her throat, and she let the curtain fall back.

“Hey, miss. Please let us in. We’re cold and wet. Won’t you please let us in?”

Mollie pressed her back against the wall, willing her heart to stop racing. What was the deal with these kids? What were they doing all alone at night, and why did they creep her out so badly?

“Come on, miss. We can’t hurt you. We’re just little kids. We just want to play.” That sounded like a boy, though his voice was high. He probably hadn’t yet reached puberty.

Maybe she should call the police. The parents needed to be reported for not keeping a closer eye on their kids. But for now…should she let them in?

On the one hand, she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving children outside alone in the dark, but on the other hand… she was quite frankly terrified. Something was not quite right. And she couldn’t dismiss the stories about the Black-Eyed Kids. Most rumors were based on some kind of fact, so there might have been some truth to the legend…

But then…if there really was a killer on the loose, how would she feel if she found out these kids had been murdered?

She blew out a long breath and shoved the drapes back. She reached for the latch to unlock the patio door but stopped. Her gaze fell on the object the smallest boy held in his hand. A large rock. He hefted it, his black eyes staring through the glass at her. “We wanna play rock with you. Just let us in so we can playyyyy…” The last word was drawn out, ending on a keening wail.

About the Author…

It’s me…I’m the author. 😀 

Alicia Dean began writing stories as a child. At age 10, she wrote her first ever romance (featuring a hero who looked just like Elvis Presley, and who shared the name of Elvis’ character in the movie, Tickle Me), and she still has the tattered, pencil-written copy. Alicia is from Moore, Oklahoma and now lives in Edmond. She has three grown children and a huge network of supportive friends and family. She writes mostly contemporary suspense and paranormal, but has also written in other genres, including a few vintage historicals.

Other than reading and writing, her passions are Elvis Presley (she almost always works in a mention of him into her stories) and watching (and rewatching) her favorite television shows like Ozark, Dexter, Justified, Breaking Bad, Sons of Anarchy, and Vampire Diaries. Some of her favorite authors are Michael Connelly, Dennis Lehane, Stephen King, Lee Child, Lisa Gardner, Ridley Pearson, Joseph Finder, and Jonathan Kellerman…to name a few.

Website: http://aliciadean.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAliciaDean/

Twitter: @Alicia_Dean_

Instagram: AliciaDeanAuthor

BookBub:https://www.bookbub.com/profile/alicia-dean

Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/aliciamdean/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/468339.Alicia_Dean

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13 Sessions by Christopher Farris ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th

Please help me welcome Christopher Farris with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series,  13 Sessions...

Fun Fact:

The story started off as throwback to the character, Renfro, from the novel Dracula. I had initially intended for Patient 13 to be a Renfro-type who brought about the downfall of the doctor. That’s not where it ended up. 😊

Father Dragos Tepesch, asylum administrator, does not fit Dr. David Montaine’s expectations. His new employer is too religious, too old world, too—too, he can’t quite put his finger on it. Frightening, maybe? It doesn’t make sense. The priest is old and frail, his voice kindly. It’s his eyes, David thinks, something in his eyes. Hunger, maybe?

The Wallachian asylum is hopelessly behind the times. His wife, Sally, seems to have left him and, more troubling, his mind is playing tricks on him. Still, this new job is far better than the old. The authorities no longer hound him. The booze is free. He has a whole new practice to build, lunatics desperate for his particular brand of salvation and, right down the hall, Patient Thirteen. She’s silent, young, and oh, so beautiful. Her pain calls to him. And pain, Father Tepesch says, is a meal that must be eaten one bite at time.

Excerpt:

“All considered, Father, I think things are looking—” Movement under Tepesch’s chair caught his eye. A giant rat, black as midnight and scarred from a hundred savage battles, sauntered from under the old man’s soutane, stopped on the oriental rug, and fixed David with a beady, red eye.

He stiffened. A shudder of disgust and fear coursed down his spine. The malevolence in the creature’s eye, the sheer hateful hunger froze him with his hand half-way to his mouth.

Tepesch cocked his head, “David?” He spoke as if he didn’t see the evil thing, though the beast stood not a foot in front of his black boot tips.

The rat rose on its hind legs and sniffed the air, exposing its long, yellowed incisors and its bare belly. The skin, the awful, wattled, bare skin of its underside showing through the wiry hair was too intimate, too… It was too much. And the thing smelled. A reek that settled into his nostrils and clawed its way into his throat. This was no common rodent. His imagination took him to dark places, dank holes and caves, to the morgue deep in the basement, to the trenches of World War I where millions of the damned things had swarmed the dead and dying. When he’d pictured those monsters, they’d look like this in his mind. Two-and-a-half feet tall and savage. No natural rat ever grew so big. He pointed with a quivering hand, “L—look!”

“What David?” Tepesch’s face registered confusion. “What?”

The rat grinned at David and shuffled forward on its hind legs, front paws waving in the air like a dog doing tricks for its dinner.

He shoved the chair back with a shriek. He wanted to cry out. “Don’t you see it? It’s right there? What’s wrong with you? Are you blind!” But all he could manage was a hurk-hurk-hurking sound in the back of his throat.

The animal leapt under the desk. Before he could get his legs up onto the chair, the thing pounced into his lap. Its weight pinned him to the chair, heavy as a bowling ball. The creature’s questing nose nuzzled into the soft flesh of his belly and groin. He screamed and a flush of hot urine spread across his lap as his bladder let go.

About the Author…

Christopher Farris Christopher Farris lives in a very old, very small house in a very old, very small town nestled deep in a valley of the Boston Mountains of Northwest Arkansas. He is not a hillbilly, but he is trying. He has four well-adjusted children and the two best granddaughters available.

His horror novel, The Fountain, was published by The Wild Rose Press in January of 2021. His Christmas novel, Intersection: A Trucker’s Christmas Carol, was published in November of 2021. Both are available at Amazon.com.

The Fountain: Amazon.com: The Fountain eBook : Farris, Christopher: Books

Intersection: A Trucker’s Christmas Carol: Amazon.com: Intersection: A Trucker’s Christmas Carol eBook : Farris, Christopher: Books

Facebook: @ozarkgothic

Facebook: c_farrisauthor

Instagram: c_farrisauthor

 

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