Halloween is almost upon us and so is my short horror story collection, Sinister Stitches, featuring 12 tales from the Shadow Fabric mythos.
A teaser from one of those stories, “Midnight Clay”:
As though the moonlight pushed him along, Owen freewheeled down
the hill. The wind bit into his face, froze his knuckles. Often summer nights
were like this, especially with a cloudless sky. If only he hadn’t left his
coat back at Jimmy’s house.
A rumble in the
distance, almost a howl, snatched his attention to the bend up ahead. He
steered closer to the edge of the lane. He and Jimmy had an awesome evening;
the new Dungeons and Dragons
role-play game had stolen the day away. Before they’d realised it, night had
fallen and Owen was late. Jimmy had beaten him with some lucky dice rolls.
The next game, Owen
thought, would be war.
The rumble
intensified; a vehicle approached at speed, still unseen. Perhaps a truck or
lorry. Having cycled this route many times, he knew the lane was wide enough
even if he did meet something that large. Still, he kept close to the grass
verge.
Once more, his
thoughts wandered to the game. Luck or not, next time he’d outsmart Jimmy.
Further ahead, along
the winding road and through the trees, headlights forced back the darkness.
Air-brakes hissed. A lorry, definitely, and it approached the bend without
slowing.
Owen jammed on the
brakes, the back wheel whirring on the tarmac.
He jerked to a halt.
The vehicle tore into
the bend. Tyres screeched and juddered and groaned in protest. The trailer
tilted, jack-knifed, and tipped. Something sleek, a silhouette against the
night sky, leapt from the roof with what looked like enormous wings and too
many limbs. Whatever it was, Owen had the fleetest glimpse as he threw himself
sideways, dragging his bike. He rolled into the bushes, twigs and branches
raked his hands and face. The lorry cleaved the tarmac, roaring like a metal
dragon and uprooting trees and foliage, mud and earth.
His heart pounded in
his throat.
After that there was
silence, save for the creak of a buckled trailer wheel. And voices. Faint
echoes on the wind from somewhere in the darkness. Not near the lorry but
further away in the fields. Imagination surely; adrenaline from witnessing the
crash. Imagination, too, had made him see that great…creature?
Entirely in his head.
He pushed himself up
and staggered onto the road. The underside of the metal hulk loomed over him. A
clump of mud and tangled brambles fell from the buckled wheel. Tiny glass beads
covered the road, each one glinting moonlight.
If only he hadn’t left
his phone in his coat pocket, back at Jimmy’s.
“Hello?” he called,
heading for the cab.
No one answered…
The blurb:
Twelve horror stories weave truths you do not
want to hear. The collection includes:
Intensive Scare – Three teenagers dabble in the occult and
learn there's a good reason to be afraid of the dark.
Red, White and Black – When a clinical trial goes horribly wrong,
a lone survivor finds herself fleeing from a sentient infection.
Meeting Mum – Introducing a new girlfriend to your
parents has never been so problematic.
Midnight Clay – An otherwise pleasant homeward journey is
interrupted by a demon with a particularly grotesque skill.
Each story binds the Shadow Fabric mythos
tighter, revealing that everything around us is entwined with a deep-rooted
darkness. And sometimes that darkness — the fabric
— tears.

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