Happy 2023! It’s almost release day for a series of horror short stories revolving around Friday the 13th. I will be sharing each story on my post, one per day. Today, I’m pleased to welcome Robert Herold with his story, The Devil Sheds a Tear…
Fun Fact:
I imagined some of the Seattle area’s rich and famous (unnamed of course) were actually members of murderous covens!
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Hiding from a homicidal coven of modern witches, Steven Metcalf thinks he is safe. The devil-worshipers are not through with him, and a deadly game of cat and mouse ensues. Will joining forces with a witch-hunter save his life?
A Friday the 13th Short Story: 13 authors ~ 13 suspenseful stories. Murder and mayhem on Friday the 13th… Find each story in the series on Amazon.
Excerpt:
I made it to the door and yanked the knob with sweaty hands, but it wouldn’t open. I swung around. Ken emerged from beneath a library table across the room. He held the knife. Tim lay flat on his back with a pool of blood around his head. Though I’d never been violent in the past, I hoped I’d killed him.
Ken strode over to the body and commanded, “Get up.”
Tim stood. He straightened his nose, fetched two teeth from the floor, and reinserted them. Then he lifted the hem of his robe and swiped blood from his face. He looked at me and grinned. “Naughty, naughty.”
Bio:
Robert Herold has had a fascination with horror since he was a child and his mother refused to allow him to watch creature features on tv. She caved in (well, not literally). Herold hopes his books give you the creeps in the best way possible.
Happy 2023! It’s almost release day for a series of horror short stories revolving around Friday the 13th. I will be sharing each story on my post, one per day. Today, I’m pleased to welcome Chris Farris with his story, Stripes…
Interesting Fact:
The first version of “Stripes,” written years ago, was a rather vanilla “war in Iraq” military story based upon real life characters I knew during my time in the Arkansas Army National Guard. Those characters have changed significantly in this story, so no risk of meeting a real Josiah should you choose to visit the Natural State. Their accents, cares and personalities, however, live on.
“They Call Me Beaver,” the original story, did not have the punch that I was looking for but, after a night of tossing and turning, it occurred to me that with some changes it might make a fine story of mayhem and murder. In Beaver (Josiah) I had the character I wanted, but I needed a hook, something strange and menacing. My granddaughter and I had just visited Turpentine Creek, a local Arkansas big cat rescue park, and the way one of those tigers looked at us gave me all the inspiration I needed. Still, the problem remained, how to put a tiger in a combat zone? That proved to be easier than I suspected.
Perhaps the most far-fetched part of my story, the Baghdad tiger, is based on reality. During the 2003 invasion of Iraq, the Baghdad Zoo was partially destroyed. The zoo workers, fearing for their lives, suspended the feeding and care of the 650+ animals living there. During their absence, the zoo was looted, cages were opened, herd animals were stolen and eaten by a hungry populace and multiple predators (including twenty-three lions) were released into the city. Of the original animals (including Mandor, a 20-year-old Siberian tiger owned by Uday Hussein,) only 35 survived their wartime ordeal. The U.S. military rounded up many of the escaped lions using armored fighting vehicles and returned all but four to their captivity. Those that would not return were killed.
The wildlife community responded quickly once the situation was known. South African conservationist, Lawrence Anthony traveled with two assistants into the heart of the danger zone to bring relief to the remaining animals. The U.S. Army assumed command of the zoo, stopping the looting and vandalism and providing a secure place for Mr. Anthony and other volunteers from the Thula Thula game reserve, Wildaid, Care for the Wild International, and IFAW to work.
The zoo reopened in 2003 following improvements and renovations by U.S. Army engineers. It was populated by eighty-six animals, including the surviving nineteen lions as well as tigers, brown bears, wolves, foxes, jackals, camels, ostriches, badgers and some primates that had been collected from the Hussein family’s private menageries.
So “Stripes” is a strange amalgamation of personal military experience and a surreal story of war-time collateral damage. If you are interested in the whole story of the Baghdad Zoo, see Lawrence Anthony and Graham Spence’s book, Babylon’s Ark. As a side note, during an ill-considered 2003 party held in the zoo a U.S. Army Sergeant had his arm severely mauled by one of the captive tigers. The animal was consequently shot multiple times and bled to death in its cage.
Life is, sometimes, stranger (and sadder) than fiction.
*** Pre-Order the Friday the 13th stories for only 99 cents!!!
Meet Josiah Poopart, high school dropout, construction worker and part time soldier. His friends call him Jo, most everyone else calls him Beaver (because of his buck teeth.) He’s in love with a stripper named Cinnamon and enjoys reading hard-boiled fiction with his best friend, Harmon. He’d tell you he lives a pretty good life, even though his daddy left when he was young, and his momma got blown up in a freak mobile home accident. Everything else is working out fine. The only fly in his ointment is that everyone around him keeps dying. It’s inconvenient, but what can you do? They say those with thirteen letters in their name are cursed. But Josiah doesn’t see it that way. As far as he’s concerned, one man’s bad luck is another’s good fortune. And fortune, somehow, always favors Josiah.
A Friday the 13th Short Story: 13 authors ~ 13 suspenseful stories. Murder and mayhem on Friday the 13th… Find each story in the series on Amazon.
Excerpt:
“Then you killed him and Roger!” Her words came out as a hoarse shriek. She sounded like an oversized crow. It made me jump.
“I never did.” I yelled back.
She whipped around with a giant butcher knife she’d got from the block. “The stupid sheriff may not believe it, but I know you did it. I saw you out by his Jeep. You—you—” She took a big hitching sob and slapped the tears from her cheeks. When she spoke again, she was real quiet and real mean. “You get the hell out of my house, you little pervert, or I’ll stab you through the heart.”
I thought about arguing, but she lurched toward me from the counter. Not fast, but steady-like. She had a look in her eye that told me she meant it. I ain’t afraid of much, but like I said earlier, that woman had a way of coming at you that could be intimidating. At that moment, I don’t think I meant more to her than a cockroach you step on and kick to the corner. That knife looked sharp, too. I didn’t figure I wanted to bleed out on her kitchen floor, so…I split.
Like I said, that was the last time I saw her and, of course, I didn’t end up finding out where Cinnamon went.
I guess that argument sparked Mrs. Smith’s interest in food again. When they found her dead on the kitchen floor, she’d shoved most of an apple pie down her gullet. She’d got it all the way back behind her tongue and packed her throat solid with apples and sugar crust. She’d smeared it all on her cheeks and it had dripped down the front of her rooster dress. She’d even got it in her eyes and up her nose. She was a mess. The coroner ruled it accidental death. He said it was asphyxiation by airway obstruction. Death by apple pie. That’s just sad.
Bio:
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. His novels, The Fountain, and Intersection: A Trucker’s Christmas Carol are available at Amazon.com, as are his Friday the 13th short stories.
Happy 2023! It’s almost release day for a series of horror short stories revolving around Friday the 13th. I will be sharing each story on my post, one per day. Today, I’m pleased to welcome DJ FitzSimons with her story, Eyes to Die For…
Fun Fact:
I am from a neighboring town of the one used in my story.
*** Pre-Order the Friday the 13th stories for only 99 cents!!!
James Bucknall can get any woman he wants with one sultry look from his bewitching blue eyes. Handsome, charming, and clean-cut, he’s the epitome of a GQ guy. James is also a maniacal serial killer, who murders women as casually as he dates them. At least that is his modus operandi until he meets Frankie Wilson.
There’s something entrancing about the sad, young woman, that has captivated James’s interest, and right now, she is more appealing alive rather than dead. The surprising discovery of Frankie’s connection to James’s last victim, Charlie, arouses the killer’s interest to unexpected heights.
And that’s when Charlie’s ghost decides to intervene.
Excerpt:
Tonight, I’m on the hunt, but I can’t seem to get into it. I’ve danced with a couple of women who look like they spent hours getting ready to come out here, but they’re just not doing it for me. I’m just leaving the dance floor with yet another bimbo, where I feel someone’s eyes on me. Instinct makes me stop and look up.
A blonde. Nothing special, but she’s pretty in a natural kind of way, though it’s tough to see as the lighting isn’t great right here. But even in the dimness I can clearly see she’s on the hook.
I ditch my dance partner at the bar. She doesn’t seem to care as there are already horny, jock-types angling to get her attention. Mine’s shifted to the girl I just saw. I plan to find her.
Bio:
DJ is originally from London. She currently publishes short stories which are set in various parts of the U.K.
Happy 2023! It’s almost release day for a series of horror short stories revolving around Friday the 13th. I will be sharing each story on my post, one per day. Today, I’m pleased to welcome Michelle Godard-Richer with her story, Avenging Angel…
Fun Fact:
For this story, I researched the inner workings of the car trunk, including how spacious they are.
*** Pre-Order the Friday the 13th stories for only 99 cents!!!
A Friday the 13th Short Story: 13 authors ~ 13 suspenseful stories. Murder and mayhem on Friday the 13th…Find each story in the series on Amazon.
On Friday the 13th, sweet college student and barista, Maya Pendleton, leaves Rowena’s Coffee to walk home alone. The streets of Gideon’s Hollow are empty. The locals believe the spirits of the witches from nearby Salem roam on this cursed night, seeking revenge on the descendants of those who burnt them at the stake.
Maya’s lonely footsteps echo through the empty street in a steady rhythm until they’re interrupted by another pair. They belong to Rand Roosevelt¾an evil man with murder on his mind. But he picks the wrong night, the wrong victim, and he messes with the wrong witch.
Excerpt:
Maya’s eyes fluttered open to reveal darkness. The floor moved beneath her as a waft of exhaust fumes turned her stomach.
Where am I?
She shifted her head and the world tilted as a sharp pain shot through her head from the base of her skull, jogging her memory.
The creep from the coffee shop. What an ass!
Maya moved to reach around the back of her head to assess the damage. Her elbow hit something hard. Her funny bone tingled, then her heart pounded in her ears as the smallness of the space suffocated her.
The urge to panic was almost impossible to resist, but she needed to resist to have any chance of escaping this horrible predicament.
She rolled onto her back. A handle glowed above her head in the darkness. She stuck her hands out and moved them along a hard surface, and the horrid reality of her situation became clear.
Metal. He stuck me in the trunk of a car!
Her breathing accelerated. Her thoughts scrambled like a puddle of eggs, and she gasped for air. She forced deep breaths into her lungs and her brain cleared.
Maya reached around the back of her head, careful not to smack her elbow again, and ran her hand over a large bump below her ponytail. Her hair wasn’t sticky, so thankfully, she had no open wound to contend with. But considering she’d lost consciousness and the lingering dizziness; she must be concussed.
Once more, her gaze shifted to the glowing handle over her head once more.
A trunk release!
She tugged on the handle, and nothing happened. With the handle in her grasp, she pushed on the trunk with her feet at the same time. Nothing.
Her captor must have anticipated that means of escape and disconnected the handle. Not escaping, giving up, and dying at age twenty wasn’t an option. Her mother must already be losing her mind with worry and Maya was all she had.
Now what?
Bio:
Michelle Godard-Richer is a Criminology graduate with a passion for crime, human behavior, and the written word. She is also a thriller and romance author living in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains in Alberta, Canada. She writes edge-of-your-seat, suspenseful stories with strong protagonists and diabolical villains.
Today’s spotlight is on Michelle Godard Richer and her Thriller, Fatal Hunt (which I edited and enjoyed very much!)
Be the hunter.
After being widowed and surviving the wrath of a serial killer, Jessica believes her misfortunes are over. She’s reunited with her first love, Jon, and together, with her son Bryce, and a baby on the way, they’re living their happily ever after on their ranch in Montana. That is until secrets, lies, and a formidable foe from Jon’s past emerge to shake the foundation of their relationship, forcing them to flee for their lives.
A decade earlier, Jon worked undercover for the FBI. He infiltrated Hugh Jones’ Kansas City mob, and almost destroyed his empire. Unaware of the breach in his own defenses, Hugh, obsessed with revenge, unleashes every weapon in his arsenal, targeting those Jon loves the most.
Excerpt:
Jessica’s limbs weighed a ton. She forced her heavy eyelids open. After a split second they shut on her again. She lay on something soft, and an engine droned around her. Where am I? What happened?
Then she remembered her fruitless struggle in the hospital room. Willing her head to the side, she forced her eyes to open again. Her kidnapper sat in a chair across from her reading a newspaper.
He looked over the top of his paper and smiled. “You’ll be groggy for a while longer. Go back to sleep.”
Too tired to fight, she gave into the void sucking her down.
Growing up as an only child in a small town, with only my imagination for company, I dreamed of becoming an author. My father laughed and said something like: okay, but you might be broke. I shrugged and kept clacking on the keyboard of our home PC, delighted when my words appeared on the small monitor, a staple of early 90s technology.
In high school, when it was time to decide on a future career, I chose to pursue an Honours Degree in Criminology at the University of Ottawa, but at the back of my mind, the dream of writing for a living persisted.
Fast forward fifteen years, and as a happily married woman and proud mother to two children, four dogs, and a cat, my dream came true.
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.
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.
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
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.
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:
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.
Author Alicia Dean 