A bouquet of horror E-Book

L. N. Nilsen

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 184

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Hi there, friend! Maybe you have a moment? Maybe you are sitting in a terminal somewhere in the world waiting to board? Maybe you just have a moment to yourself, without stress, without schedule? Look here, I have picked a bouquet for you. Isn't it beautiful? Here is a flower for forgotten forests, one for immoral time travel and another for cats of various sizes. A flower for petty circuses, another for awkward keys and many more in the bouquet. Here you go, I think you'll like it. Have a nice time! - L. N. Nilsen

Leseprobe

A bouquet of horror

A bouquet of horrorCopyright

A bouquet of horror

DOG LIFE

The dog's name was Cujo. Stan had only been eight years old when he had watched the movie based on Stephen King's novel. He saw it with his brother and his friends, even though the others did not know he was there since he had hidden behind the loose panel on the stairs. He had almost screamed in horror a few times but managed to keep quiet and remained undiscovered. He knew he would have received a beating otherwise; it was way past his bedtime and his thirteen-year-old brother Trent was supposed to watch him as his parents were away for the weekend.

Trent had loathed Stan from the beginning, nor were they real brothers; Trent's father had remarried to Stan's mother after Trent's mother died in childbirth when Trent was three years old. Stan had not yet developed into the steady muscleman he was now, as a child he had only been fat. Obesity and his eyes in different colors caused him to be teased by both his brother and classmates at school. Stan grew up in the countryside in a small rural community where only a handful of people knew about heterochromia and even fewer knew it had nothing to do with witchcraft and/or evil spirits.

Stan was regularly beaten for some mischief as a child, either by his brother or by his father. The abuse continued in school, this time by tormenting spirits in the disguise of classmates while the teachers looked the other way, his odd looking eyes made him an easy target. Once Stan reached his teens, he suddenly grew to reach an impressive 198cm of length and the baby fat was distributed more evenly over his length. He found himself becoming a firm piece of man. In high school he was still often involved in fights, although more often handing out beatings than receiving them. He still received a lot of comments regarding his eyes, however, most preferred to present their opinions in a whispering tone well outside of his hearing range.

Brother Trent had stopped growing at 177cm so all of a sudden roles were reversed. Trent had quickly compensated by using weapons, first blunt clubs, later sharp edged weapons to finally level up to firearms. He had become known as something of an expert in the field and he could also, for a reasonable fee, find weapons for each and everyone. His services were much appreciated as a certain illegal trade of valued products and services existed in the area. Trent sold weapons to both buyers and sellers. He remained neutral in price wars and territorial disputes, partly because he managed to involve Stan in his business, Stan who had developed into a very effective debt collector. He mostly just needed to show up and display himself in full length for the debtors to suddenly cough up the money they owed for various products.

Neither Trent nor Stan drank as they had seen up close what liquor could do. Their father was imprisoned after drunkenly beating Stan's mother to death, she died of her injuries after a few days of pain. Since they lived in a small community, Stan's father could easily have escaped punishment but unfortunately he had made the mistake of marrying the daughter of the area's largest producer of moonshine. Stan's grandfather used the agreement he had with the local police to get Stan's father convicted of murder. The grandfather was a bitter, old bastard whose wife had also died under mysterious circumstances, but he had adored his daughter for some unfathomable reason. Stan's father had never understood this and treated her just as he treated everyone else who was weaker; like shit. Trent had followed his father's example and in the absence of other role models, Stan did too.

Stan did well as a debt collector for his brother, Trent ran the business and told Stan exactly what he should do, how he should do it and when. Stan did not need to think much and that suited him, he was probably not that smart, he reckoned. He could not read nor write well, so he relied on his brother. Their relationship was better now that they were adults; it was more equal. As a sixteen-year-old, Stan had beaten Trent badly and that had been the turning point. Trent had made a comment about his eyes, Stan had lost his temper and turned on Trent with his fists. This happened just after Stan's father received his sentence and was taken to prison and if Stan had been able to stop and think for a while, he would have understood that he took out his anger, loss and frustrations on his brother. Trent could not defend himself against Stan's rage, he had tried in vain to protect his head from the hard punches that Stan handed out. Stan had developed a considerable strength and also had weight to put behind the punches so Trent had ended up quite badly hurt. However, this completely changed their relationship. Trent realized that he could benefit from his brother and Stan allowed his brother to take care of him. He had never been informed of his dyslexia, of why he could not read nor write; Stan thought he was stupid.

One day in October, Stan was on his way to pick up a payment from one of the neighbors. Trent had explained that this neighbor was a good business partner, so Stan should only give a reminder if he did not get the money. Stan knew what it meant, he should break down the door and thus prove to the neighbor that he was not safe, he’d better pay. Trent had carefully explained to Stan that he was only allowed to touch the door, nothing else. The neighbor organized dog fights and Trent made big business because of them. Stan understood; business was business, one must also protect possible future benefits.

Stan drove up to the neighbor’s house and got out of the car only to be met by commotion.

-Shoot that fucker! Hurry up, shoot! Do not let it get away!

Stan froze for a second before realizing that the shouting did not apply to him, something else was going on. The voices came from the backyard so Stan walked over, around the house, careful not to be hit by any stray bullets. He stopped at the corner of the house and peeked cautiously around it. He saw the neighbor and his sons chasing one of their pit bulls, the dog had come loose and tried to escape. It seemed like the dog had defended itself well since one of the sons was bleeding from a large wound on his hand. The dog was now covered in blood and sweat and was trapped in a corner. The neighbor had managed to get hold of the other end of a piece of chain that hung around the dog's neck so the dog had nowhere to go. One of the sons put the barrel of a rifle against the dog's head and pulled the trigger. Stan watched in silence as the dog collapsed.

Stan did not know if the neighbor had a sixth sense or had simply heard the car door, but all of a sudden the man turned around and looked at Stan.

-Well, it's you, he muttered quietly as he squinted at Stan.

The barrel of the rifle he kept hanging aimed at the ground was raised a little, then lowered again.

-I know why you're here. I have no money for you today, this fucking dog would have earned me everything I needed if only we could have taken part in tonight's fight. Now I have nothing and I am also one dog short. Damned bad luck that it got loose!

The neighbor stared at Stan and spat on the ground next to him. He knew Trent had told Stan not to hurt him, at least not too much.

-You know why I'm here, right?

-Yes I know. Damn unlucky that you came by tonight. Everything would have been fine if you had just stayed away until after the weekend.

Stan thought about the neighbor’s words. Was this statement proof that the neighbor was aware of the debt, hence the reminder was unnecessary? Stan sometimes enjoyed destroying things, but he also knew that there were other methods available and that each situation had its own solution. He looked around distractedly as he was trying to make a decision. His gaze fell on a cage nearby. He saw a small puppy-sized figure in it. Surprised he walked closer to get a better look. Yes, it was a Cujo dog! A puppy, but certainly a St. Bernard.

The neighbor saw his gaze. He looked at the puppy and back at Stan while getting a cunning look in his eyes.

-That is the runt of the litter, I got it from a colleague earlier, nothing to have but might do as bait dog for a round or two. He is not worth much but you can take him as down payment on the debt. Shall we say 10%?

Stan did not really know what to do. He wished he could call Trent and ask, but he knew Trent did not want to talk business over the phone and especially not in front of a customer. He studied the puppy for a while and then he decided. He could handle the matter with Trent, if required he could pay the 10 percent himself. Now he wanted the dog.

-Agreed, he said while holding out his hand to the neighbor.

They shook hands as confirmation. The neighbor opened the cage and Stan reached for the puppy. It growled a little when Stan lifted it. Stan gently took it in his arms and went back to his car and put it on the seat next to him.

-Don’t you make a mess now, he said to the softly moaning pup.

Stan was just about to start the car and drive off when he noticed that the neighbor had followed him, gesturing for Stan to lower the window. Apparently he wanted to talk. Stan did as asked.

-You know, something came to mind. I have a pregnant bitch here, she will have her litter any day now. What would your brother say about a puppy instead of money? We can train it here if he wants and then the puppy can fight for money. You both know my reputation in the industry so you are comfortable with presenting the proposal, right?

Stan nodded. He knew there was a lot of money to be made in dog fights, so he thought Trent might be interested.

-I’ll present the proposal.

Three years later, Stan was watching while the neighbor and his sons incited a pit bull on a small bait dog. Trent had approved the proposal and the dog currently in training was his, it had turned out to be a very lucrative investment. Stan had advanced in his career, partly anyway, nowadays he could add dog snatcher to his resumé. He had snatched the little dog that was used as bait in the training. Trent had concluded that Stan was the only one who could make longer trips without fear of getting caught in a society where the police functioned as they should, so Stan had driven around quite a lot in recent years. He had his dog, Cujo, with him all the time both as company and also as camouflage. No one could believe that a dog friend would be involved in dog fights. Cujo had grown quite big now, he weighed almost 100 kg. Trent used to joke that Stan had found a dog his own size.

Stan had felt a certain discomfort lately out on these trips. Kidnapping dogs didn't bother him at all, he only stole from those rich prima donnas who could get a new one without trouble and their dogs were pampered, perfumed and manicured little shits anyway. No, what worried Stan was Cujo, he had become defiant. The dog-knowing neighbor assumed that Cujo was probably nearing the age when it was ready to challenge Stan for the leadership of the pack. Stan knew that male dogs did so, but had not realized that St. Bernards did too. He was a little nervous, Cujo was a damn big dog so things could go bad if it got him unprepared. The neighbor had explained that the dogs warned first, it was more like a challenge, so Stan would have plenty of time to react. The explanation sounded very logical, but Stan was still unsure. Just before Cujo started behaving strangely, he had parked the car so Cujo saw a dog being attacked and killed by one of the neighbor's pit bulls, a dog they had previously snatched. Stan knew that dogs could not think in the way of humans, but somewhere in the back of his mind the thought remained that Cujo had realized what they were doing and that the dog did not approve. However, Stan knew better than to tell anybody about his suspicions, he would be declared stupid many times over in that case, both by his brother and others. But still…

A few nights later, Stan was on his way home empty-handed. He had not seen the dog he intended to steal, the owner had gone on holiday with the dog. Stan had uttered quite a few well chosen words when he realized his mistake, he had promised to find a bait dog for the next day. After driving around at random for a while looking for stray dogs ​​or some other opportunity, he was forced to give up since it started to get dark. During the day, people let their dogs out in fenced yards and Stan had on multiple occasions lifted dogs from those thanks to his height and strength. However, people were more curious about cars passing or not passing at night, that made it more difficult. He did not want to operate in the dark either, he did not like the darkness much. It was autumn too and had started to get really cold at night, he saw frost here and there even though the evening was young.

Suddenly Cujo barked, a low woof that Stan had learned meant that another dog was close. Stan wondered how Cujo managed to catch on the other dog’s scent from a car at 80km/h, but forgot that thought when he realized that this was his chance, maybe he would not need to go home empty handed. Stan slowed down, looked around and noticed a movement in the corner of his eye. He turned his head just in time to see a pit bull slip away under a bar closing off a dirt road. Stan braked, turned the car around in a skid that a stunt driver would have envied and turned onto the dirt road. 'Public beach', a sign claimed. Another stated 'closed for the season'. Stan got out of the car and lifted the bar out of the way without any problems. He squinted into the dark and noticed a movement in front of him. The dog! Stan got back in the car and resumed the chase. The pit bull was fast, but not fast enough, Stan quickly catched up. How would he catch it? Wait, it had a chain around its neck, if only he could reach it…

The dog turned and disappeared into a narrow strip of forest right before Stan came alongside it. Stan cursed the dog and stopped the car, opened the door, jumped out and took up the chase on foot. He heard Cujo barking behind him, but had his eyes on the fleeing dog. Funny, the pit bull looked a bit like the one he had seen the neighbor's son shoot the same day he got Cujo. It had the same colors, was also covered in blood and had a similar chain around its neck. I wonder which dogfighting kennel this one escaped from, Stan thought to himself.

Suddenly the ground disappeared under Stan’s feet. He felt himself fall into icy water and gasped, just to get a mouthful of cold water. Close to panicking, he kicked frantically with his feet to get up to the surface. Finally some air! His clothes were heavy and wanted to pull him down, he had to fight to keep his nose above the water. That bastard of a dog had tricked him out on the pier! Damn, he had not noticed! He should have realized that he did not run on the ground anymore, but he had been preoccupied with thoughts. Shit, shit, shit! He had to get up from here, the water was cold. Stan looked around, the beach was closed so all the stairs back up to the pier had been pulled up and packed away for the season. Some should have been left for security reasons, but the darkness made it difficult for him to see. Suddenly the moon appeared from behind the clouds and lit up the surroundings. Stan was startled when he saw Cujo sitting on the pier in front of him. The dog had found a lifebuoy with a rope tied to it, he held the rope between his teeth. Stan sighed in relief, of course they would have left lifeguard equipment. Cujo would save him!

-Niiiiice dog, Cujo, drop the lifebuoy here!

Cujo did not move, he just looked at Stan with the rope between his teeth. Stan half swam, half paddled closer to grab the rope, but stopped abruptly when Cujo began to growl.

-Cujo, my friend, what is it? Drop the lifebuoy here! Cujo, lifebuoy, here!

The dog just looked at him, still with the rope between his teeth. The moon disappeared behind a cloud just as another shadow approached Cujo. It was the pit bull. Stan could hear the creaking of the wood on the pier. The pit bull came up to Cujo, who greeted it with something that could be referred to as a 'nod'. Stan swallowed water in surprise when the pit bull responded to the nod in a similar fashion. Both dogs sat and stared at Stan. He tried to approach the pier again, but both dogs growled. He tried to move past the pier towards the beach, but again the dogs growled. Stan realized that they would not let him get out of the water, they would sit there and watch him drown. He looked at Cujo and realized that the dog knew, it had always known. He looked at the pit bull and knew that it was the same dog, the one that had been shot. Stan realized that he was doomed. He looked at the dogs and knew that this was punishment for what he did not do. He had failed to save the pit bull, he had watched as it was cornered and shot just because it did not want to fight for someone else's money. He had failed to save the other dogs, instead he had caught them, injured them and had them killed. He also knew that this was not the end, this was the beginning; he felt it in his whole body as he looked at the two dogs. He was to be punished, tortured in the same way they had been tortured. He would not get away. With one last look at Cujo, he stopped fighting and let himself sink to the bottom. A few air bubbles rose to the surface, then everything was calm.

Trent searched for his brother, but his own network of contacts was not able to find him. The local police made an effort, not for Stan or Trent, but for Stan's grandfather. No trace was found, nor had Cujo appeared. Stan had disappeared. Trent did not understand that he could feel a longing for a brother he had never loved, so he concentrated on business to escape the feeling. He had established himself in the dog fighting industry together with his neighbor and had become quite successful as well. Now he stood watching a litter of potential winners that had been born the night Stan disappeared. The puppies were old enough to open their eyes. Trent looked at one of them, a small chubby one, the runt of the litter, who might or might not be something other than a bait dog. As he stood there, deep in thought about his missing brother, the puppy opened its eyes. They had different colors.

THE COUNTRY BELOW

Tim wandered around in the woods as he used to do whenever he did not want to go home. It was summer vacation now, he had nowhere to be so his grandparents let him wander as he pleased. He had turned ten the month before, so he was big now. According to him, at least. His grandparents were old already, they did not really have the strength to deal with him, but there was no one else. Tim's parents had died in a car accident before he started school.

Tim amused himself by throwing cones at the trees. It was satisfying to hear the sound when the cone hit the target, a 'tonk', quite dull as the bark muffled the sound. The area where Tim walked was quite flat, but rocky, with a spruce here and there. He walked on towards the deep forest, where spruces grew dense. He was not really allowed to go there, but he thought he could go now that he was ten years old. He had heard Grandma whisper to Grandpa about people who had disappeared in the deep forest, but that could not be true, Tim thought. There would be warning signs and police officers hindering him if it was indeed dangerous, there was nothing of that kind. Hence it must be safe. Anyway, it was still early morning and he had all day to pass. He had already explored most of the forest near the cottage where they lived, now he wanted to see more.

He bent down and picked up more cones. Tonk, tonk, tonk, he heard as he threw them and hit his targets. He walked on in deep thought about the school and the other children there. Tonk. Then he thought of his grandparents. Tonk. They had let him live with them ever since the day when his parents never came home. Tonk. Tonk. Doubletonk.

Tim continued onwards. He ate some from his small breakfast-lunch bag sitting on a rock by a small river. He looked at the river where it laughed and gurgled onwards and wondered where it was going. He did not know so he took out his little notebook and a pencil. "Ask Grandpa about the river," he wrote neatly in the book. Very well, the sandwich was eaten, he had collected his garbage and written down Necessary Things in his book. Time to move on. He picked up the compass his grandfather had given him and studied it. Grandpa knew how Tim liked to walk in the woods and had done everything he could to teach him some forest common sense. Tim found his way around and he knew how to find north using the trees. He had been given the compass only 'for safety', because Grandma was nagging. At least Tim thought so. Grandma was worried, like all the moms and grandmothers and aunts were, Tim guessed. At least grandmothers were, he knew that for a fact.

Tim went on into the woods. He kept throwing cones, tonk, tonk, tonk. The spruces were tall here, but not so dense, the sunlight reached the ground here and there. He began to notice pines as well. Soon the spruces disappeared, it was mostly pine. It was okay, he found cones anyway. Tonk. Tim decided that the sound they made when they hit the pines was even better. Tonk.