Noctiphobia (Short Story Collection) by Carol Grayson

So, you are afraid of the night? Even if you´re not, you´ll have some sleepless hours with these five horror short stories. Read about apocalyptic prophecies, mysterious incidents or a dark future which might happen to you and you and you… Okay, get your copy right before you go to sleep!

Noctiphobia by Carol Grayson

Noctiphobia by Carol Grayson

Product Details

  • File Size: 136 KB
  • Print Length: 31 pages
  • Publisher: MCK Verlag/Vampire Magic Edition; 1 edition (April 19, 2012)
  • Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
  • Language: English
  • ASIN: B007W45CC8

Excerpt from The Requiem (Noctiphobia)

A delicate shroud of mist crept out of the gully covers of the sleeping city.  Street lamps and neon lettering on the stores simultaneously expelled and aroused the darkness.  A stray dog searched for edible scraps in the steel bins on a side street behind a diner.  The heat of an excruciating long summer day had not yet abated.  The small city had difficulty breathing.  Even the music and laughter emanating from the casino had fallen silent in the meantime.

[aartikel]B007W45CC8:left[/aartikel] The dog lifted his head.  His keen ears had registered something that wasn’t quite right tonight.  He picked up the scent.  It smelled like a storm was brewing and the clear starlit sky was already beginning to be covered up by dark streaks.  But there was something else.  Something, which people could not hear.  It sounded sweet, seductive, like an ominous melody.  The mutt with the shaggy, mustard-coloured fur whimpered quietly.  He began to run.  The dog was the only thing that left the city that night.

They came with the shadows of the clouds, which had – in the meantime – blocked out the stars.  The rumbling of the initially remote thunder steadily increasing and along with it, the yearning wailing of a violin.  Silently wafting, they moved through the deserted streets like a foreign army.  Large, dark shapes with bland facial features and burning eyes.  The tallest creature amongst them played the instrument with virtuous, svelte fingers.  The bow glided over the strings in accordance to the rhythm created by the flashes of lightening.  Sometimes louder, sometimes softer it enticed one to dance while the intruders approached the people’s houses.  Neither walls nor doors seemed able to stall them.  They slid through every crevice, every keyhole taking on the form of black fog, manifesting themselves afterwards.  They often had it easy at this very hot time of year because people slept with their windows open.  The obligatory metal fire ladders hung in front of the windows of the multi-storied, older houses, which only made it that much easier for the unwanted visitors to enter.  Only the fiddler in his long, black cloak, the hood covering his head, stayed outside and moved through the streets like a gypsy searching for alms.  And his performance cast a spell on the residents of Almond Grove, leading them deep into the underworld from which there was no escape.  The tone of his instrument was not directly audible to the human ear; however, it was perceptible, similar to infrasound.

Emily Haynes also left her bedroom window in the second story of her apartment building open during such hot, sticky weather.  Beside her on the night table was a bottle of water to quench her nocturnal thirst.  Her unconsciousness registered the roll of thunder in her sleep, awakening hopes of cool relief in the morning.  However, her unconsciousness also registered something else; a resonant melody, alluring and tender, its tempo increasing from Adagio to Moderate then to Presto and back again.

The young, beautiful woman tossed and turned under the thin sheets.  Tiny beads of sweat glittered on her flawless forehead.  Her mouth formed the name “John” in her sleep.  They had argued the evening before, when she had once again begged her fiancé to stop the gambling and no longer put their mutual future at stake.  John left in a furious rage, slamming the door behind himself.  It had sounded like a final farewell.  This argument weighed heavily on Emily’s heart and increased her uneasiness even more.

Then, suddenly, she lay totally still.  Breathing deeply and soundly.  An unusual, calming scent filled her bedroom; a scent that was only ever found in ancient churches – somewhat similar to incense, cool water and ancient oak – mellow and rich.  It reminded Emily of her childhood, when she had regularly attended Sunday mass with her parents.  She smiled in her sleep.  No one saw this smile, only the creature that had infiltrated her room together with the scent, probing into her thoughts and dreams until it found what it had been looking for.  He assumed the shape of her beloved John even before she managed to open her eyes.

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About the Author : Carola Kickers

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