The Year's Best Horror Stories, Series IX

The Year's Best Horror Stories, Series IX

Language: English

Pages: 131

ISBN: B000GRLJG6

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

The Year's Best Horror Stories, Series IX

Language: English

Pages: 131

ISBN: B000GRLJG6

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Introduction by Karl Edward Wagner
The Monkey by Stephen King
The Gap by Ramsey Campbell
The Cats of Pere LaChaise by Neil Olonoff
The Proper Bequest by Basil A. Smith
On Call by Dennis Etchison
The Catacomb by Peter Shilston
Black Man with a Horn by T.E.D. Kline
The King by William Relling, Jr.
Footsteps by Harlan Ellison
Without Rhyme or Reason by Peter Valentine Timlett

The Anatole France Megapack: 32 Classic Novels & Stories

Gentleman Junkie and Other Stories of the Hung-Up Generation

Who Can Save Us Now?: Brand-New Superheroes and Their Amazing (Short) Stories

The Best New Horror 4

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hal dug in with an oar, and suddenly that feeling of being tied to the earth was gone and the boat was moving lightly, its own thing again after years in the dark boathouse, rocking on the light waves. Hal unshipped the oars one at a time and clicked the oarlocks shut. “Be careful, Daddy,” Petey said. His face was pale. “This won’t take long,” Hal promised, but he looked at the flight bag and wondered. He began to row, bending to the work. The old, familiar ache in the small of his back and

sharp as needles, he wrenched the animal off and hurled it against the wall, while kicking out at the others, which had begun to attack his legs. “Help, anyone!” he screamed. Then he saw Pierre a few meters away from the grating, wearing on his face his mournful expression which almost never changed. Bateman was quite hysterical. “They’re attacking me!” he shouted. “Please, open this thing!” “They’re only cats,” Pierre said. “Besides, I don’t know the combination.” There was the beginning of a

lighter, he had no matches. Frantically his hands searched his pockets for a miracle. Of course! He had flash-cubes for his camera! With trembling fingers he pulled one out and fiddled for what seemed an eternity to fit it into place. He pressed the shutter-button and nothing happened. A dud! He turned it around and tried once more. Still nothing. The rustling was only inches away. Think, man, think! He had forgotten to wind on the film, so of course nothing would happen. Pull round the winding

upon first inspection, but before turning out the light I noticed that one, the reminiscences of a Colonel E. G. Paterson, was provided with an index. Though I looked in vain for the demon Shoo Goron, I found reference to it under a variant spelling. The author, no doubt long deceased, had spent most of his life in the Orient. His interest in Southeast Asia was slight, and the passage in question consequently brief: . . . Despite the richness and variety of their folklore, however, they have

duties and conditions and I find them very acceptable.” “Good. As to meals, I see to myself during the week. You will be required to cook only one meal a week, on Saturday evening, for which I trust you will join me. I am a fanatic about the garden but not about the house. Providing it is kept reasonably clean and tidy you may come and go as you please. If you like walking you will find the countryside around here quite delightful. I am not a sociable woman, Miss Templeton. I can be quite

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