Hell's Alley 13 E-Book

Patrick Aschenbach

• Herausgeber: epubli
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Hell's Alley 13 A run-down house, a dark secret: When petty criminal Kevin Krüger moves to "Hell's Alley 13", he has no idea that he will end up in a whirlpool of nightmares, violence and supernatural horror. As the shadows of the past haunt the house, Kev fights for his life - and his soul. But some battles are unwinnable, and evil has its own plans...

Leseprobe

Title:Hell's Alley 13

Author: Patrick Aschenbach

Biography:

Patrick Aschenbach was born in Hamburg in 1985 and grew up in a part of town that was often rainy and foggy - an environment that exposed him to dark, mysterious stories from an early age. Even as a child, he had a passion for the uncanny, spending hours with scary stories and dark films. Instead of studying classical literature, he decided to immerse himself in the world of gastronomy, where he worked as a bartender for years and got to know countless people and their stories.

In addition to his job as a bartender, he wrote in his free time, often at night when the city was quiet and the shadows were spreading. Inspired by experiences with the gloomy atmosphere of the big city and his preference for the unknown, he developeda writing style that combined humorous but also shocking elements with a dark atmosphere. Patrick Aschenbach still lives in Hamburg today and is working on more dark stories that blur the boundaries between the real and the supernatural.

Chapter 1: Entry into Hell Kevin "Kev" Krüger leaned against the rusty hood of his old Opel Corsa and took a deep drag on his cigarette. "Hey, Marcel, this place looks like a fucking horror film, man. Just look at this filthy bunker." His buddy Marcel, a stocky guy with a bald head and a T-shirt that was clearly too tight for his beer belly, laughed dryly. "No wonder the place was cheap. If the mold doesn't kill you here, some psycho in the stairwell will kill you." The old apartment building at Hell's Alley 13 loomed before them. The plaster was crumbling from the walls, the window frames were rotten, and the front door was hanging crookedly on its hinges. Kevin shrugged his shoulders. "Cheap is cheap, dude. What can I do? I can't really stay with my mom. The old woman is fed up with me anyway." He threw his cigarette on the floor, stomped it out, and slapped Marcel on the back. "Come on, help me, you lazy bastard." The boxes won't move themselves."

The hallway stank of old grease andsomething that Kevin couldn't identify exactly - a mixture of damp wood and... rotten flesh? "Wow, what a smell, man. It's worse here than in my mom's kitchen." Marcel grunted and heaved a moving box up the stairs. "Hey, I'm telling you, that's the smell of decay, brother. "Some junkie must have died here and is rotting away in the basement."

"Shut up, man, or I'll move out again right away," Kevin growled, although he himself wasn't sure. The thought of the basement actually made him uneasy. The light flickered as they reached the first floor, and a loud, wheezing cough came from one of the apartments. "Probably Balzer," Kevin mumbled. "Who?" asked Marcel. "My neighbor or something. I saw him briefly earlier, looked like the guy was already half dead." Once on the second floor, Kevin grabbed the keys from his pocket and locked the door to his new apartment. The smell here was better – at least compared to the hallway. The place was tiny, with a crookedLaminate flooring, cracked walls and a kitchen that hardly deserved the name. "Well, what do you say? Palace, right?" asked Kevin, grinning. Marcel put the box on the floor and snorted. "Yeah, man, really nice. But you know what? At least you can't have rats here. They would have all given up long ago and left voluntarily." Kevin dug two cans of beer out of a bag and threw one of them to Marcel. "Screw it, it'll be fine. The main thing is that the rent is right. Cheers, you idiot." They clinked glasses and for a moment the oppressive atmosphere of the house was forgotten. When Marcel left and Kevin was sitting alone in the apartment, reality caught up with him again. The wind blew through the leaky windows and there was a quiet cracking sound somewhere in the house. He wanted to ignore it, but when he went into the bedroom he suddenly felt like he was being watched. "Wow, Kev, pull yourself together, you're not a little kid anymore," he muttered to himself and pulled the covers over his head. Around midnight he was attacked by aHe was awakened by a sound that made his blood run cold. A loud, drawn-out scream that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside the house. He sat up, listened, and there it was again - a shrill, rapid, inhuman scream that stopped abruptly. "What the hell..." he whispered. Kevin grabbed his cell phone and dialed Marcel's number. "Hey, man, I think something really sick is going on here," he said as Marcel finally ran. "What's going on,

you pussy?" Are you hearing ghosts or something?" Kevin gritted his teeth. "No shit, man. Someone's screaming like they're being stabbed. Coming from somewhere downstairs. Maybe from the basement."

"Yeah, and? Call the cops if you get too hot," Marcel joked, but Kevin could hear the hint of nervousness in his voice. "I'm not going into the basement, you idiot!" Who knows what's going on down there."

"Well, then stay in your room and pretend you haven't heard anything," said Marcel. "It's better that way." Otherwise you'll be the next one,He's screaming." Kevin ended the conversation, but he felt anything but reassured. The screams had stopped, but the thought that something terrible had happened down there kept haunting him. He sat down at the kitchen table, smoking cigarette after cigarette, and stared at the locked door that led to the hallway. "It's OK, Kev," he said to himself. "It's probably nothing." Probably just some drunk old woman who froze her ass off." But deep down he knew it was a lie. The night became torture, and when the first rays of sunlight finally fell through the dirty window, Kevin felt as if he had not slept a single moment. His new beginning at Hell's Alley 13 had only just begun, and he already suspected that he had gotten himself into trouble.

Chapter 2: Saskia reappears Kevin stood in his kitchen, which looked more like a storage room, and tried to unclog the filter of his coffee machine. "What a damn thing," he muttered as he scratched at the crusted plastic with a knife. He had survived the night more or less, and the thought of the screams from the basement haunted him. "It was just a dream," he told himself, but even he didn't believe himself. Just as he was about to take the first sip of his weak coffee, there was a bang at the door. Three loud bangs, the sounds so aggressive that Kevin quickly dropped the cup. "Wow, what a fuss... I'm coming!" He ripped the door open and stared straight into Saskia's angry face. "Well, who would have thought that you were still alive, you idiot?" she greeted him with her arms crossed. She still had the same platinum blonde hair, which was tied up in a messy bun, and wore a tight leather jacket that she intentionally left unbuttoned to show off her impressiveto emphasize her bust. Kevin raised his eyebrows. "Oh shit... what do you want here?"

"My things, you idiot. They're still with you and I'm getting fed up with chasing you." Saskia pushed past him into the apartment without waiting for an answer. Kevin slowly turned around, coffee still in his hand. "Hey, Sassi, you can't just show up here like that. Who do you think you are?"

"I'm the woman who carried your ass for months while you were too stupid to put a single cent into the relationship!" Saskia turned to him, her eyes flashing with anger. "And now I'm standing here because I damn well want my things." Where are you?" Kevin sighed and put down the coffee. "Boy, that was three months ago." What kind of stuff? Your stupid pillows or something?" “My clothes, you monkey!” Saskia began to march through the apartment, tearing open the cupboards and pulling out wild things. “And if Iblack boots here, I'll kill you myself."

"You're still just as crazy as you were before, you know that?" Kevin crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "You probably forgot what you left here."

"Shut up, Kev." Saskia bent down to look under the bed and Kevin couldn't help but glance over. "Are you looking at my ass, you pig?" she asked without turning around.

"Hey, what should I do? "You're practically shoving it in my face," Kevin countered with a dirty grin. Saskia straightened up again and fixed her gaze on him. For a moment it was quiet, only the dripping of the faucet could be heard. "You're such an asshole," she finally said, but her voice sounded less angry than before. Kevin shrugged. "Yeah, and you're the one who keeps showing up at my house." What does that tell us?"

The tension between them was almost tangible, and before Kevin knew it, Saskia was standing right in front of him. Their faces werejust inches apart, and she glared at him. "You're still a fucking idiot."

"And you're still hot when you're mad," he murmured before pulling her close. The kiss was wild, almost aggressive, and before they even realized it, they were on the sloping sofa. Their hands were everywhere, and as their mutual insults faded into increasingly violent movements, the world was silent for a moment - apart from their heavy breathing. Later they lay next to each other in silence, both sweaty and panting. Saskia finally broke the silence. "Was that your way of apologizing?" Kevin grinned crookedly. "Maybe. Did it work?"

"Asshole," she muttered, but her smile revealed that she wasn't entirely serious. In the evening, after she had dressed somewhat again, Saskia went into the hall to light a cigarette. Kevin stayed in the apartment and heard her cursing loudly. "Hey, Kev! What the hell isthe?"

"What now?" He shuffled to the door and saw Saskia playing with the lit cigarette in her hand in the stairwell. "Some guy was just standing there," she said, and her voice actually sounded uncertain.

"What kind of guy?" Kevin stepped next to her and looked into the empty hallway. "There's no one here, you're talking bullshit."

"I saw him, Kev! He looked like a fucking zombie or something. Totally ripped off, with a messed up face." Kevin snorted. "Probably one of the junkies from the neighborhood. There's only riffraff running around here."

Saskia shook her head. "No, he wasn't a normal guy. He... he just stared at me. Without blinking."

"And what did you do then? Offer him a joint?" Kevin grinned, but Saskia punched him in the shoulder. "That's not funny, Kev." He was creepy, okay?"

Kevin took one last look into the hallway before closing the door. “Don’t worryPlatte. If he shows up again, I'll give him a slap and then there'll be peace. Come on, let's have a beer." But as she walked back into the apartment, Kevin had the uneasy feeling that Saskia was right. It felt like she was actually being watched - and this time it wasn't him.

Chapter 3: The Neighbor with the Axe Kevin woke up the next morning with a hangover that felt like someone had shaken the contents of a toolbox around in his skull. Sassi was gone, and the empty beer can on the nightstand was the only evidence that she had ever been there. "Classic," he muttered as he rolled out of bed and dragged himself painfully to the kitchen.

With a cup of halfway decent coffee in his hand, he opened the door to the apartment to let some air into the sticky hallway. Just as he took the first sip, he heard the door of the apartment across the street creak open and a man stepped out.

He was old, gaunt, and had yellowish-gray skin that looked as if he hadn't seen daylight for decades. In one hand he held a lit cigarette, in the other a suspiciously sharp, blood-stained axe. Kevin quickly choked on his coffee and gasped: "Hey, what a load of crap!" Are you trying to kill me, Grandpa?" The man fixed him with a look that was both sullen and empty. "Boy, if I wanted to kill you, you wouldn't have time to talk nonsense." Kevin grinned nervously, rubbed his neck and examined the axe. "What's that? Chopping wood in mittens in Hamburg? Are you fresh from the forest or something?" The old man snorted contemptuously, took a deep drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke in Kevin's direction. "It's not for wood."

"Yeah, sure." Kevin shook his head, laughed quietly and sipped his coffee. "And for what then? For the neighbors who snore too loudly at night?"

The man took a step closer, and Kevin now noticed the small but deep scars that covered his face. "For those things down there," he said quietly.

Kevin raised an eyebrow. "Things? You mean the rats? Should I call an exterminator or something?"

“Rats? Boy, you have no idea.” The man took a final drag from hiscigarette and flicked it onto the floor without stamping it out. "I'm telling you now so you know. Don't go into the basement. Evil lives down there. And it's just waiting for you to be stupid enough to go down there." Kevin stared at him, trying to suppress the sarcasm that was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't. "Okay, Grandpa, sure. Evil in the basement. Do you have any more horror stories to tell, or is that enough for today?" The old man narrowed his eyes. "You can laugh if you like. But if you hear the screaming - and you will - you better not go and look. Otherwise you'll be the next one to disappear."