Settlement of the Damned E-Book

Sarah Kiefer

• Herausgeber: epubli
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

In a remote prefabricated housing estate where despair and darkness reign, an ancient evil is reawakened. As strange events and gruesome murders shake the residents, the survivors battle demons that are more than just a nightmare. But the true horror doesn't just lurk in the shadows - it's also within the people themselves.

Leseprobe

Title:Settlement of the Damned

Author:Sarah Kiefer

Biography:

Sarah Kiefer was born in Hamburg in 1984 and grew up in a world full of dark stories and mysterious legends. She began writing her own stories at an early age,

inspired by the unexplored corners of the city and the shadows that lurked in every nook and cranny. Today she lives a secluded life in a small apartment,

where she continues to work on stories that take the reader into the dark corners of the human psyche.

Chapter 1: Welcome to Hell

Sascha "Toad" Reimann leaned against the cracked concrete wall of the entrance to Block C with his arms crossed. The smell of old garbage, dog urine and burnt

plastic hung in the air, a typical evening in the settlement. His hoodie was smeared with something he had dismissed as tomato sauce hours ago. The cigarette in his hand glowed faintly as he waited boredly for the next

customer. "Hey, if those sons of bitches upstairs look at my delivery again, I swear to God, I'll kill them," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

Natalie "Natti" Schulz came down the stairs, elegant but with a slight pride in her gait that immediately said: Don't touch me if you don't want to lose your fingers. She was

tall, slim and had a face that expressed both beauty and contempt. Her jeans were skin-tight and the low-cut top left little room for the imagination. "Toad, working as usual, eh? Or are you just waiting for someone to finally

punch you in the face?" She grinned cheekily at him while she fumbled a cigarette out of her pocket. "Work, Natti, work. Someone has to fill the coffers here.

And what about you? Had a regular in bed again, or did you go home alone for once?" Sascha flicked away his cigarette and pulled a bottle of beer out of a plastic bag, which he opened with a hiss.

“Keep dreaming, little one,” Natalie countered and lit her cigarette. She let the smoke slowly out of hermouth and looked at Sascha with a look that was both challenging

and a little amused. "How's your business? No charges against you yet? Too bad. I would have liked to see the cops punch you in the face."

"Leave me alone with your bullshit," growled Sascha,

taking a deep drink from his bottle and putting on a self-satisfied grin. "And speaking of polishing the face, that guy from yesterday... the one who thought he could fool

me? Believe me, he's still coughing up blood today. I showed him how to learn respect."

"Oh wow, a real hero," Natalie said dryly, but turned to him and let her eyes wander over him briefly. "Man, you

really are the best thing Marzahn has to offer. No wonder everyone here is dying."

"Hey, don't talk nonsense, Natti. You know I'm the only

one who keeps this shit together. Without me, these kids would be completely screwed." The conversation was interrupted by a loud crash.

Someone had broken a window in the stairwell, and shortly afterwards Lukas' distinctive voice could be heard echoing through the hallway. "You cunts! Who was that? I swear, I'll finish you off!"

“Oh God, not that idiot,” Natalie groaned and turned around. Lukas came stumbling down the stairs, his hands

covered in blood-stained bandages, his shirt torn and covered in some kind of indefinable stain. He was a beefy guy with a bald head that he always polished

freshly and a face that looked as if it had alreadyseen more fists than most punching bags. "Natti, sweetie, what's up? Sascha, you little rat, how's things going with you?"

"Shut up, Lukas," Sascha replied, looking at him with cold eyes. "You're the last person who has any say in this matter."

"Oh yeah? Say that again and I'll shut your fucking mouth with your own teeth!" Lukas took a step forward, but Natalie stood between the two of them.

"Can you kids pull yourselves together? Seriously, this is worse than kindergarten." She blew the smoke from her cigarette directly into his face, which briefly threw Lukas off track.

"You're lucky she intervened, Toad," growled Lukas before ripping a can of beer from his pocket and drinking it in one go.

"Well, it's always the same shit here," Natalie said, turning away. "You two can punch each other in the face, but I have better things to do. The bar is waiting."

Sascha and Lukas watched her go, each with their own thoughts. Sascha shook his head and muttered: "She always acts like she's better than everyone else. But she's just as much of a wreck as the rest of us."

Lukas grinned crookedly. "At least she has an ass to look at. You, on the other hand, are just an annoying worm." “Fuck off, Lukas.”

The prefab housing estate was now in total darkness. The moon shone dimly through the thick clouds, and somewhere in the distance you could hear a dog barking.

Sascha lit another cigarette and felt the tension in the air growing ever thicker. He couldn't explain it exactly, but something felt different that evening. Maybe it was the argument with Lukas, maybe it was Natalie, or maybe it was just the weight of the years slowly weighing on him.

He took a deep drag and looked up at the black sky.

"Welcome to hell," he muttered quietly to himself before flicking the cigarette into the trash and disappearing into the darkness.

Chapter 2: The Mysterious Neighbor

The old man lived at the very top, in the last room in Block C. No one really knew what the guy's name was. Most people just called him the "wizard" or "the freak

from upstairs." No one saw him outside very often, and when they did, he always wore the same wrinkled coat that looked like he had personally survived World War II. His face was lined like an old map, and his eyes? They

were the worst. Pale gray, almost white, as if they could see through you. "Hey, I swear, that guy is doing some devilish stuff up

there," Lukas had said a few days ago as they were hanging around in the yard. "The other day I saw him coming out of Aldi with a knife in his hand. He's probably got an altar up there or some shit like that."

"Shut up, Lukas," Sascha replied, taking a drag on his cigarette. "You see stories everywhere. The old man is probably just a junkie like the rest of us."

But even Sascha wasn't so sure. There was something strange about the old man. Sometimes at night you could hear strange noises coming from his apartment.

Murmurings, so quiet that you were never sure if it was real or if your brain was playing tricks on you. And then there was this smell. A mixture of rotten eggs and burnt hair that always blew out of his door when it was open. That evening Sascha sat again on the bench in front of Block C and let the warm wind blow his hairruffled. Natti came down the stairs, fresh from the bar, and sat down

next to him. "Hey, Toad, did you hear that? The freak from upstairs was rummaging through the garbage again."

Sascha blew a cloud of smoke into the air and grimaced. "Why the hell do you care?"

"Because that guy creeps me out, man. I mean, who

would voluntarily live in that shithole for twenty years and not talk to anyone? I bet he's got a bunch of skeletons in his closet."

"Nonsense. He's probably just fed up with our sick faces."

"Yeah, or he likes to slaughter people and use their skin as curtains," Natti said, laughing. Before Sascha could reply, they suddenly heard a dull

bang. It came from above, somewhere in the direction of the old man. "What the hell was that?" asked Natti, looking up.

Sascha shrugged. "I have no idea. Grandpa probably threw his walking stick against the wall."

"No, man. That sounded different." Natti jumped up. "Come with me. Let's take a look."

"Dude, are you crazy? I'm not going up to that guy!"

"Oh, don't be a wimp, Sascha. If he wants to get his hands on us, you can just open your big mouth.Maybe he’ll die of boredom.”

Sascha reluctantly followed her up the stairs. The smell got worse with each floor. "Wow, I'm going to puke, man. What's that smell?"

"I don't know, but if I have to live here someday, I'll kill myself."

When they got upstairs, Natti stopped in front of the old

man's door. It was old and scratched, as if someone had tried to force it open with their bare hands. A strange, greenish mist was pouring out of the crack underneath,

which somehow didn't seem real in the dim lighting of the hallway. "Toad, I'm telling you, there's something sick going on here."

"Shit, open the door now before I shit my pants." Natti carefully put her hand on the handle and pushed it down. The door was not locked. It opened with a quiet

squeak. Behind it lay the apartment, plunged into total darkness. "Hello?" Natti called out, her voice wavering between courage and sheer horror. No answer. Sascha pushed past her. "Wait here, I'll check it out." He pulled out his cell phone and activated the flashlight. The beam of light cut through the darkness and revealed a

bizarre scene. The walls were covered with symbols in a language he didn't know. There were candles everywhere, some burned out, others still flickering. In

the middle of the room was a table covered with a dirtycloth, and on it – "Oh fuck."

"What?" Natti came closer and looked over his shoulder.

On the table was what looked like an animal carcass. A goat's head, surrounded by black feathers and red spots that were definitely blood.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Natti whispered, her voice trembling.

"I don't know, but I don't want to find out if we'll end up on

the table next." Sascha grabbed her arm. "Come on, let's get out of here." But before they could turn around, they heard a deep

growl coming from the darkness. It didn't sound human, not even animal. It was as if the apartment itself was breathing.

“Dude, what was that?” Natti whispered.

"I don't know, and I don't want to know." Sascha pulled her back to the door, but before they reached the hallway, the old man suddenly appeared in the doorway. His face

was deathly pale, and his eyes glowed an unnatural white. “You shouldn’t have been here,” he said in a voice that sounded like it came from another world. Sascha and Natti stared at him, frozen with fear. "Hey, Grandpa, we just wanted to..." Sascha began, but the old man raised a bony hand and the air around them turned ice cold.

“Get out while you still can,” he growled. They did not wait for a second request. Saschagrabbed

Natti and ran down the stairs without looking back. The door slammed behind them and the growling echoed for a long time.

Outside the block, they were both panting as if they had just run a marathon. "I'm telling you, that guy isn't normal," Natti blurted out.

"No shit," said Sascha and cast one last glance upwards.

"But if he's planning something, then we've got a big problem."

Chapter 3: Stress on the Road

Sascha trudged through the narrow, dirty streets of the settlement, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie. The rain pattered on the asphalt, creating

puddles that reflected the flickering street lamps like black mirrors. He was fed up with today's crap. First the old man, then Natti, who kept getting on his nerves, and now his stash was almost empty. The kids from school wanted their pills, but the supplies were slow to arrive. "Hey, Sascha! Toad!" someone called from behind him. He didn't turn around immediately because the voice was

too familiar. Someone who didn't like him. He felt his stomach tighten. "Stop, you little wanker!" He slowly stopped and cast a quick glance over his

shoulder. Three guys were coming towards him, all wearing black jackets with white logos on them. The "Nordköppe", a small but aggressive gang that had been after him for a few months. Rico was in front, a beefy guy with a shaved head and a scar across his forehead. "Well, Rico. Still pissed that your old lady bought more from me than from you?" Sascha's voice was calm, but

his heart was racing. He knew that this was going to end badly. "Shut up, toad." Rico stopped, just a few steps away, and

fixed Sascha with a look that carried enough hatred for three lifetimes. "You were dealing in our neighborhood. That was the last time."

"Your neighborhood?" Sascha raised an eyebrow and

demonstratively lit a cigarette. "I didn't know the city had given you a lease for the street." Rico's friends started laughing, but the laughter didn't last

long. Rico took a step forward, grabbed Sascha by the collar and pulled him closer. "I'll finish you off, you little bastard."

“Just try it,” hissed Sascha and spat out the cigarette butt, right in front of Rico’s feet. That was the starting signal. Rico jerked his arm back and the first fist landed directly on Sascha's cheek. The

blow sent him tumbling backwards, but he kept his feet. Before he could think clearly, the other two guys came at him. The taller of the two, with a face that looked like a

badly kneaded lump of dough, tried to hit him in the stomach with a knee. Sascha dodged, grabbed an old road sign that was lying on the ground and struck.

"You want trouble? Then come here!" he shouted as the metal crashed onto the head of the first attacker with a dull sound. Blood spurted and the guy fell to the ground groaning.

"Shit, he got me!" he moaned, but Sascha didn't have time to concentrate on that. Rico was there again, this time with a butterfly knife in his hand. “Now things are getting serious, Toad!” Sascha backed away, slipped in a puddle and landed on his back. Rico stood over him, grinning and holding the

knife dangerously close to his neck. "It was nice with you, little one." But before he could stab, Sascha heard a loud clink. Rico flinched and dropped the knife. Natti stood behind him, holding a broken beer bottle that was still dripping with Rico's blood.

“Losing again, Sascha?” She grinned as Rico sank to his knees, the bleeding back of his head turning the street red.

"Damn it, Natti. Always there when it hurts the most." Sascha got up, grabbed the knife and turned to Rico's remaining friend, who was now standing there alone and visibly panicked.

“What now, you little pisser?” asked Sascha, swinging the knife back and forth. The guy hesitated, then turned around and ran. "You're all sick! Get lost, Rico!"

"Yeah, run, you fucking coward!" Natti shouted after him before throwing the bottle away and turning to Sascha. "You really are a walking problem, you know that?" “And you’re a walking pain in the ass.” Sascha spat on the floor and dusted the pants off.

Rico was still lying on the ground, wheezing, his eyes

wide open. "You... you're dead. My people...they'll get you." “Your people can kiss my ass,” hissed Sascha, kicked Rico in the chest and pulled Natti with him. "Toad, you know this isn't over, right?" Natti asked as they walked away from the scene.

"It never is," Sascha replied, looking back at Rico's bloody body. "But that's what makes it exciting, isn't it?" Chapter 3: Stress on the Road Sascha trudged through the narrow, dirty streets of the

settlement, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie. The rain pattered on the asphalt, creating puddles that reflected the flickering street lamps like

black mirrors. He was fed up with today's crap. First the old man, then Natti, who kept getting on his nerves, and now his stash was almost empty. The kids from school wanted their pills, but the supplies were slow to arrive.

"Hey, Sascha! Toad!" someone called from behind him. He didn't turn around immediately because the voice was too familiar. Someone who didn't like him. He felt his stomach tighten. "Stop, you little wanker!" He slowly stopped and cast a quick glance over his shoulder. Three guys were coming towards him, all

wearing black jackets with white logos on them. The "Nordköppe", a small but aggressive gang that had been after him for a few months.In front was Rico, a beefy guy with a shaved head and a scar across his forehead.

"Well, Rico. Still pissed that your old lady bought more from me than from you?" Sascha's voice was calm, but his heart was racing. He knew that this was going to end badly.

"Shut up, toad." Rico stopped, just a few steps away, and fixed Sascha with a look that carried enough hatred for

three lifetimes. "You were dealing in our neighborhood. That was the last time."

"Your neighborhood?" Sascha raised an eyebrow and demonstratively lit a cigarette. "I didn't know the city had given you a lease for the street."

Rico's friends started laughing, but the laughter didn't last long. Rico took a step forward, grabbed Sascha by the

collar and pulled him closer. "I'll finish you off, you little bastard." “Just try it,” hissed Sascha and spat out the cigarette butt, right in front of Rico’s feet.

That was the starting signal. Rico jerked his arm back and the first fist landed directly on Sascha's cheek. The blow sent him tumbling backwards, but he kept his feet.

Before he could think clearly, the other two guys came at him. The taller of the two, with a face that looked like a badly kneaded lump of dough, tried to hit him in the

stomach with a knee. Sascha dodged, grabbed an old road sign that was lying on the ground and struck. "You want trouble? Then come here!" he shouted as the

metal crashed onto the head of the first attacker with a dull sound. Blood spurted and the guy fell to the ground groaning.

"Shit, he got me!" he moaned, but Sascha didn't have

time to concentrate on that. Rico was there again, this time with a butterfly knife in his hand. “Now things are getting serious, Toad!”

Sascha backed away, slipped in a puddle and landed on his back. Rico stood over him, grinning and holding the knife dangerously close to his neck. "It was nice with you, little one."

But before he could stab, Sascha heard a loud clink. Rico flinched and dropped the knife. Natti stood behind him, holding a broken beer bottle that was still dripping with Rico's blood.

“Losing again, Sascha?” She grinned as Rico sank to his

knees, the bleeding back of his head turning the street red. "Damn it, Natti. Always there when it hurts the most."