Nightmare Heights E-Book

Foxglove Lee

• Herausgeber: Rainbow Crush
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Alisha never asked to be a sensitive, but when her nightmares coincide with some strange goings-on in her building, she knows she must take action. The victim of a brutal killing keeps coming to her, in dreams. Terrible, terrifying dreams. Alisha knows the night terrors will never end until the murder is brought to light, but she can’t do it alone. It’ll take every trusted tenant in her building to solve this crime—and a little dog, too! Queer Ghost Stories are standalone tales that can be read in any order. Download Nightmare Heights today!

Leseprobe

Nightmare Heights © 2018 by Foxglove Lee

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design © 2018 Foxglove Lee

First Edition July 2018

Table of Contents

Copyright Page

Nightmare Heights

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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Nightmare Heights

from the series

Queer Ghost Stories

By Foxglove Lee

Chapter 1

“WE NEED AN AIR CONDITIONER.”

Raya gives Alisha that look. That quit-your-complaining look.

“I mean it, Raya.”  She’s dizzy and light-headed.  She can’t argue any more fiercely than this, not at the moment. She needs to sit down.  The bed is the closest thing.  “This heat, babe. It’s really getting to me.  Feels heavy on my chest.  I can’t stop sweating.”

“Maybe you’re sick,” Raya replies.  “Maybe you have a fever.”  She angles the fan on the dresser so it’s blowing directly at Alisha.

“Get that off me!” Alisha cries, hitting at the air.  “Feels like a hair dryer shooting heat at me.”

Raya turns off the fan.  “Why don’t you get some sleep?  I’ll bring you water to drink, and a cold cloth for your forehead.”

“We need an air conditioner,” Alisha grumbles.

She doesn’t mean to be mean.  She just feels so sick, so overheated, so sweaty and confused.

Her head hits the pillow and she’s out.

When she wakes up, she’s taking a beating the likes of which she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy.  Not that she has any enemies that she can think of. In fact, she can’t think. She doesn’t even know where she is.  She doesn’t even know who she is. All she knows is the pain of behind struck in the face, again and again. Is that a fist she’s being hit with?  Or a baseball bat?  Or a foot, perhaps?

Is she on the floor?  Is she being kicked?  Her mouth feels swollen and gummy.  Where are her teeth?  There’s a coppery taste.  She’s gagging on fluid, something thick and warm.  Thick. Warm.  Even the thought of thick and warm makes her gag.  She vomits all over the place, whatever place this is. The floor, hard floor.

Now it isn’t her face that’s being mutilated by punches, by kicks.  It’s her stomach.  She’s being punished for throwing up.  But kicks to the stomach don’t work as a deterrent. She vomits again, without even trying. This time it’s not just the contents of her stomach coming up. It’s everything. Not just stuff she’s consumed, but things that are supposed to stay on the inside. Body parts. Organs. Is it possible to throw up a kidney?  Because that’s what this feels like.

She can’t see a thing.

She bolts straight up in bed.

A wet cloth falls limply in her lap. 

The fan on the dresser is on again, blowing warm air toward Raya’s side of the bed.

The night is dark.

What just happened?

Raya rolls over, groggily asking, “You okay?”

Alisha looks around for the body parts she’s vomited. But there’s nothing to see. Nothing on the sheets, nothing on the floor.  She touches her face. It does feel a little tender, a little swollen, but that could be the heat.  She’s been feeling out of sorts since the heat wave started.

“You okay?” Raya asks again.

Alisha hesitates.  “I don’t know. I guess it was a dream?”

“What was a dream?”

“I don’t know.”

Raya stares at her. She wishes she could provide a better answer.  She keeps flashing back to the dream. It wasn’t visual, so she’s flashing through sensations.  Emotions, sure, but also physical sensations.  Both are unpleasant, and that’s a massive understatement. 

Flipping back the sheet, Raya slides out of bed.  “I’m going to make you a nice cup of tea.”

“It’s too hot for tea.”

“Tea will help.”

Alisha follows her wife out of the bedroom.  It’s cooler out here.  Raya snaps on the kettle, then goes to the balcony door, sticks her hand outside like she’s feeling for rain.  “Cooler out there than in here.”

“Should we go out?” Alisha asks.  They’re in their pyjamas, but who’s going to see them at this time of night?  This is a quiet building, mostly old folks. 

“You sit out for a bit,” Raya says.  “I’ll bring tea when it’s ready.” 

“I want to stay with you.”

Raya feels her forehead.  “You’ll need a painkiller, too.  Bring down the fever.”

Alisha feels her own face.  “Do I have a fever?”  She can’t tell. Her hands are too clammy.

“I would say so.”  The kettle boils and Raya pours hot water into two mugs.  “Do you remember your dream yet?”

The taste of copper reappears in her mouth.  She feels the punches or the kicks—the beating, at any rate—but not so physically now.  It’s more like feeling a memory.

She tells Raya what she remembers. The taste in her mouth, the feeling of being taken by surprise, of her head swinging back like a bobble-head, and the immediate crack, the searing pain in her neck.  The trauma of it all: physical, psychological, emotional.  She’s not even sure how the words come out, or whether they make any sense to Raya.

But they must make some sense, because Raya says, “That sounds like a very bad dream indeed.”

“It felt so real.”

Raya adds heaps of sugar to Alisha’s tea and tops both mugs off with milk.  Alisha steps outside in bare feet and holds the door open for her wife.  The night air is nowhere near cold, but it’s cooler than daytime.  Small mercies, small mercies.

It’s still pretty humid out.

They need an air conditioner. God, do they need an air conditioner.

Raya sets both mugs on the little patio table.  “Feels nice out here.  Cooled off a bit.”

“Yeah,” Alisha replies half-heartedly.  “It’s a bit cooler.”

She sips her tea.

The sugar helps.

Raya always knows what she needs.  So why does she usually resist?  One of life’s little mysteries.

“Good?” Raya asks.

“Yes, it’s perfect.  Just perfect.”

There are no noises at night.  There aren’t too many noises during the day, not around here, but lots of birdsongs.  Now the birds are asleep, the humans are asleep, just Raya and Alisha still awake. 

You can see all the way to the lake from here, if you look at the right angle.  The night sky is dark.  The water is dark. A smattering of stars, though most are blotted out by cloud cover.

Alisha doesn’t feel right.  She feels... jumpy.  Ill-at-ease.  Like something bad’s about to happen but she’s not sure what.  She’s waiting to find out.

“Do you want a Tylenol?” Raya asks.

Alisha presses one hand to her head, but her hand is hot from the tea. Is her head hot or not?

“For the fever,” Raya clarifies.