Gutted: Beautiful Horror Stories (33 page)

“He could believe in his uncle though, couldn’t he? He saw his uncle waiting for him and telling him well done. I hope he knew how much his uncle thought of him.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, now it’s another year.”

Uncle Lucian’s voice is so low, and his face is so nearly invisible, that Colin isn’t sure whether his words are meant to be comforting or to warn the boy that there’s more. “Another story,” Colin mumbles, inviting it or simply giving in.

“I don’t think so any more. I think you’re too old for that.”

Colin doesn’t know in what way he feels abandoned as he whispers “Have we finished?”

“Nothing like. Tomorrow, just go and lie down and look up.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you’re by yourself.”

Colin feels he is now. “Then what?” he pleads.

“You’ll see. I can’t begin to tell you. See for yourself.”

That makes Colin more nervous than his uncle’s stories ever did. He’s struggling to think how to persuade his uncle to give him at least a hint when he realises he’s alone in the darkness. He lies on his back and stares upwards in case that gets whatever has to happen over with, but all he sees are memories of the places his uncle has made him recall. Downstairs his parents and his aunt are still talking, and he attempts to use their voices to keep him with them, but feels as if they’re dragging him down into the moonless dark. Then he’s been asleep, because they’re shutting their doors close to his. After that, whenever he twitches awake it’s a little less dark. As soon as he’s able to see he sneaks out of bed to avoid his parents and his aunt. Whatever is imminent, having to lie about where he’s going would make his nerves feel even more like rusty wire about to snap.

He’s as quick and as quiet in the bathroom as he can be. Once he’s dressed he rolls up the quilt to lie on and slips out of the house. In the front garden he thinks moonlight has left a crust on the fallen leaves and the grass. Down the hill a train shakes itself awake while the city mutters in its sleep. He turns away and heads for the open country behind the house.

A few crows jab at the earth with their beaks and sail up as if they mean to peck the icy sky. The ground has turned into a single flattened greenish bone exactly as bright as the low vault of dull cloud. Colin walks until the fields bear the houses out of sight. That’s as alone as he’s likely to be. Flapping the quilt, he spreads it on the frozen ground. He throws himself on top of it and slaps his hands on it in case that starts whatever’s meant to happen. He’s already so cold he can’t keep still.

At first he thinks that’s the only reason he’s shivering, and then he notices the sky isn’t right. He feels as if all the stories he’s had to act out have gathered in his head, or the way they’ve made him see has. That ability is letting him observe how thin the sky is growing, or perhaps it’s leaving him unable not to. Is it also attracting whatever’s looming down to peer at him from behind the sky? A shiver is drumming his heels on the ground through the quilt when the sky seems to vanish as though it has been clawed apart above him, and he glimpses as much of a face as there’s room for—an eye like a sea black as space with a moon for its pupil. It seems indifferent as death and yet it’s watching him. An instant of seeing is all he can take before he twists onto his front and presses his face into the quilt as though it’s a magic carpet that will transport him home to bed and, better still, unconsciousness.

He digs his fingers into the quilt until he recognises he can’t burrow into the earth. He stops for fear of tearing his aunt’s quilt and having to explain. He straightens up in a crouch to retrieve the quilt, which he hugs as he stumbles back across the field with his head down. The sky is pretending that it never faltered, but all the way to the house he’s afraid it will part to expose more of a face.

While nobody is up yet, Colin senses that his uncle isn’t in the house. He tiptoes upstairs to leave the quilt on his bed, and then he sends himself out again. There’s no sign of his uncle on the way downhill. Colin dodges onto the path under the trees in case his uncle prefers not to be seen. “Uncle Lucian,” he pleads.

“You found me.”

He doesn’t seem especially pleased, but Colin demands “What did I see?”

“Not much yet. Just as much as your mind could take. It’s like our stories, do you understand? Your mind had to tell you a story about what you saw, but in time you won’t need it. You’ll see what’s really there.”

“Suppose I don’t want to?” Colin blurts. “What’s it all for?”

“Would you rather be like my sister and only see what everyone else sees? She was no fun when she was your age, your mother.”

“I never had the choice.”

“Well, I wouldn’t ever have said that to my grandfather. I was nothing but grateful to him.”

Though his uncle sounds not merely disappointed but offended, Colin says “Can’t I stop now?”

“Everything will know you can see, son. If you don’t greet the old things where you find them they’ll come to find you.”

Colin voices a last hope. “Has it stopped for you?”

“It never will. I’m part of it now. Do you want to see?”

“No.”

Presumably Colin’s cry offends his uncle, because there’s a spidery rustle beyond the trees that conceal the end of the path and then silence. Time passes before Colin dares to venture forward. As he steps from beneath the trees he feels as if the sky has lowered itself towards him like a mask. He’s almost blind with resentment of his uncle for making him aware of so much and for leaving him alone, afraid to see even Uncle Lucian. Though it doesn’t help, Colin starts kicking the stone with his uncle’s name on it and the pair of years ending with this one. When he’s exhausted he turns away towards the rest of his life.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Doug Murano:

To my wife, Jessica: But for your love and support, this book would not exist. Thank you for carrying me through nights, weeks, months of doubt. Thank you for celebrating each quiet victory along the way. Thank you for giving me the time I need. I love you.

To our authors: Thank you for taking a chance on us—and on our rather difficult idea for a book. You’ve been wonderful, all of you, and I hope we get a chance to work together again soon.

To Joe Mynhardt: You turned us loose to make this book what we wanted it to be, which is a rare and priceless thing. Thank you for your faith in us, and for taking this project under the Crystal Lake Publishing banner.

To David: Thank you for indulging me, and joining me, in the pursuit of this tricky, amorphous concept. Thank you for banging your head against the wall with me when things went wrong, and for standing in awe with me as things went more right than we ever dreamed they could.

To our readers: Your readership is, well, everything. Thank you for dropping by our dark and disturbing corner of the universe. We hope to see you around these parts again.

To GJW: Thank you for leaving me all that store credit. You know why.

D. Alexander Ward:

To all of the authors who contributed stories to this book, I offer my heartfelt thanks. Through your stories, you have shaped something beautiful and terrible.

To Joe Mynhardt and Crystal Lake Publishing, it truly has been a pleasure.

To Doug, who, with an idea, plucked this strange bit of fruit from the ether.

And to the readers. Keep those tissues handy.

ABOUT THE EDITORS

Doug Murano
is an author and editor who lives somewhere between Mount Rushmore and the mighty Missouri River. A proud South Dakota native, he earned his Master of Arts in English Literature (creative writing track) at The University of South Dakota. In addition to co-editing the collection you’re holding right now, heis the co-editor of the best-selling and critically acclaimed small-town Lovecraftian horror anthology,
Shadows Over Main Street
and the forthcoming
Shadows Over Main Street, Volume 2
(Cutting Block Books).

An Affiliate Member of the Horror Writers Association, he was the organization’s promotions and social media coordinator from 2013-15, served as the communications chair for the 2014 World Horror Convention in Portland, Oregon, and has served as a jurist for the Bram Stoker Awards. He is a recipient of the Horror Writers Association’s Richard Laymon President’s Award for Service.

Follow him on Twitter: @muranofiction.

D. Alexander Ward
is an author and editor of horror and dark fiction and an involved participant in the independent horror community.

In addition to
Gutted: Beautiful Horror Stories
, he co-edited the Lovecraftian horror anthologies,
Shadows Over Main Street
, Volumes 1 and 2 from Cutting Block Books.

His novels include
Beneath Ash & Bone
and
Blood Savages
from Necro Publications and Bedlam Press.

Along with his family and the haints in the woods, he lives near the farm where he grew up in what used to be rural Virginia, where his love for the people, passions and folklore of the South was nurtured.

He is active on social media and you can find out more on his website: www.dalexward.com.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Richard Chizmar
is the founder/publisher of
Cemetery Dance
magazine and the Cemetery Dance Publications book imprint. He has edited more than 20 anthologies and his fiction has appeared in dozens of publications, including
Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine
and
The Year’s 25 Finest Crime and Mystery Stories
. He has won two World Fantasy awards, four International Horror Guild awards, and the HWA’s Board of Trustee’s award.

Chizmar (in collaboration with Johnathon Schaech) has also written screenplays and teleplays for United Artists, Sony Screen Gems, Lions Gate, Showtime, NBC, and many other companies. Chizmar is the creator/writer of
Stephen King Revisited
, and his next short story collection,
A Long December
, is due in 2016 from Subterranean Press. Chizmar’s work has been translated into many languages throughout the world, and he has appeared at numerous conferences as a writing instructor, guest speaker, panelist, and guest of honor.

You can follow Richard Chizmar on both Facebook and Twitter.

Stephanie M. Wytovich
is an instructor of English by day and a horror writer by night. She is the poetry editor for Raw Dog Screaming Press, a book reviewer for
Nameless Magazine
, and the assistant to Carlow University’s international MFA Program for Creative Writing. She is a member of the Science Fiction Poetry Association, an active member of the Horror Writers Association, and a graduate of Seton Hill University’s MFA program for Writing Popular Fiction.

Her Bram Stoker Award-nominated poetry collections,
Hysteria: A Collection of Madness
,
Mourning Jewelry
, and
An Exorcism of Angels
can be found at www.rawdogscreaming.com, and her debut novel,
The Eighth
, will be out in 2016 from Dark Regions Press.

Follow Wytovich at stephaniewytovich.blogspot.com and on twitter @JustAfterSunset.

Brian Kirk
is an author of dark thrillers and psychological suspense. His short fiction has been published in many popular magazines and anthologies, and his debut novel,
We Are Monsters
, was released in July 2015. In addition to being nominated for a Bram Stoker Award® for Superior Achievement in a First Novel,
We Are Monsters
was included on many of the industry’s most illustrious “Best of the Year” lists, and has been optioned for film development by the Executive Producer for movies such as
The Messengers
starring Dylan McDermott and Kristen Stewart,
Role Models
starring Paul Rudd, and
Lone Survivor
starring Mark Wahlberg.

Feel free to connect with him at www.briankirkfiction.com or on Twitter @Brian_Kirk. Don't worry, he only kills his characters.

Lisa Mannetti’s
debut novel,
The Gentling Box
, garnered a Bram Stoker Award and she has since been nominated four times for the prestigious award in both the short and long fiction categories: Her story, “Everybody Wins,” was made into a short film and her novella, “Dissolution,” will soon be a feature-length film directed by Paul Leyden. Recent short stories include, “Esmeralda’s Stocking” in
Never Fear: Christmas Terrors
; “Resurgam” in
Zombies: MoreRecent Dead
edited by Paula Guran, and “Almost Everybody Wins,” in
Insidious Assassins
. Her work, including
The Gentling Box
, and “1925: A Fall River Halloween” has been translated into Italian.

Her most recently published longer work,
The Box Jumper,
a novella about Houdini, has not only been nominated for both the Bram Stoker and Shirley Jackson Awards, it won the “Novella of the Year” award from This is Horror in the UK.

She has also authored
The New Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn
, two companion novellas in her collection,
Deathwatch
, a macabre gag book,
51 Fiendish Ways to Leave your Lover
, as well as non-fiction books, and numerous articles and short stories in newspapers, magazines and anthologies. Forthcoming works include more stories and a dark novel about the dial-painter tragedy in the post-WWI era,
Radium Girl.

Lisa lives in New York in the 100 year old house she originally grew up in with two wily (mostly) black twin cats named Harry and Theo Houdini.

Visit her author website: www.lisamannetti.com. Visit her virtual haunted house: www.thechanceryhouse.com.

Neil Gaiman
was born in Hampshire, UK, and now lives in the United States near Minneapolis. As a child he discovered his love of books, reading, and stories, devouring the works of C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, James Branch Cabell, Edgar Allan Poe, Michael Moorcock, Ursula K. LeGuin, Gene Wolfe, and G.K. Chesterton. A self-described “feral child who was raised in libraries,” Gaiman credits librarians with fostering a life-long love of reading: “I wouldn’t be who I am without libraries. I was the sort of kid who devoured books, and my happiest times as a boy were when I persuaded my parents to drop me off in the local library on their way to work, and I spent the day there. I discovered that librarians actually want to help you: they taught me about interlibrary loans.”