Dreadful Dark

  Tales of Horror: Book 2

  Dean Rasmussen

  Dreadful Dark: Tales of Horror: Book 2

  Dean Rasmussen

  Copyright © 2020 Dean Rasmussen

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook ISBN-13: 978-1-951120-12-2

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent from the publisher is strictly prohibited, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  For more information about this book, visit:

  www.deanrasmussen.com

  dean@deanrasmussen.com

  Dreadful Dark: Tales of Horror: Book 2

  Published by:

  Dark Venture Press, 15502 Stoneybrook West Parkway, Suite 104-452, Winter Garden, FL 34787

  Cover Art: Dark Venture Press and Deposit Photos

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chomper

  Trick and a Treat

  Little Green Alien

  More Frightful Fun!

  FREE Short Story!

  More Books by the Author

  About the Author

  Chomper

  Mikey’s eyes watered up as he sat at the edge of his bed in his pajamas. “Give him back.”

  Rachel stood in the doorway gripping the door handle while holding out Chomper toward him by the tip of his tail. She swung the stuffed alligator like a pendulum. “Get into bed and I’ll give him to you.”

  Mikey did as he was told and pulled the sheets up to his chest. He stretched out his arms. “Now give him back.”

  “You’re too old to have a stuffed animal, anyway.” She pulled Chomper away. “Maybe I’ll throw him out.”

  Mikey threw off his blankets and lurched to his feet. “No!”

  Rachel pointed at the bed. “Get back there.”

  “I was in bed. You better not throw him out. You’re mean.” He climbed onto the mattress, but didn’t cover up.

  She glared at him. “You’re such a baby, Mikey. Here’s your stupid doll.” Rachel hurled Chomper over her shoulder at him like a football. Chomper landed near the headboard and Mikey plucked him up before he could roll off.

  He’d gotten the stuffed animal for Christmas the previous year after prodding his parents for weeks following a trip to the Science Center. He hugged the alligator against his chest as if it might have gotten injured, then dropped back onto his pillow.

  “Close your eyes,” Rachel scolded, “and don’t make any noise or I’ll take Chomper away again. Got it?”

  Mikey sneered at Rachel and opened his mouth to say something then closed it. He’d learned from past confrontations with her to keep his mouth shut. Rachel was nuts with a capital ’N’.

  She slammed his bedroom door and hurried downstairs.

  Music thumped through the floor. It wouldn’t stop until at least midnight—an hour before his parents would get home. Rachel’s friends would clear out all the beer and mess. She never got caught. He doubted his parents even cared if she invited friends over, anyway. They believed everything she told them. She could do anything she wanted.

  His parents were out at the bar again celebrating another friend’s birthday. Almost every weekend they celebrated something—a friend’s new job, a birthday, a wedding. They would come home rowdy and drunk, say goodbye to Rachel, then go to bed without checking on him. The same routine every night she babysat.

  Mikey pulled the pillow in over his ears. How was he supposed to sleep with all that noise? Rachel and her friends partied downstairs while they expected him to just magically fall asleep. She hadn’t even read him a story like her parents had requested. She wasn’t doing her job at all. On top of everything, it was only 8 o’clock. Not even dark yet. The red glow of the sunset peeked through his blinds. Kindergartners went to bed at 8 o’clock, not him.

  Worst babysitter in the world.

  He would tell his parents about all the awful things Rachel did if it would do any good, but it wouldn’t. Rachel was an angel in their eyes. That charming girl from church who always smiled and sweet-talked them. Just a big scam. They wouldn’t believe him even if he took pictures. And he had taken some interesting pictures of her friends with his parents’ digital camera—drunk on the couch, snooping through his parents’ bedroom—but she’d forced him to delete them. Any attempt to get her in trouble would backfire. She’d be back in power again the next weekend to have her revenge. Maybe even put him to bed at 6 o’clock.

  He turned on his side, facing into the fading light coming in through his window. He’d much rather be outside playing with his friends. No need for a babysitter, anyway. He was ten years old—old enough to take care of himself. She’d even taken the power cord for his computer, claiming that he’d be up all night playing games—which was true—if she let him use it. Still, it wasn’t fair.

  Locked in his room like an animal.

  A low growl rumbled from his closet.

  He froze and stared at his closet door. The music still boomed downstairs. Maybe something had fallen over.

  Something thumped inside the closet as if a heavy box had hit the floor.

  The loud music was shaking the walls. Rachel’s friends would destroy the house. Maybe if they wrecked something valuable, his parents would get a different babysitter.

  The door handle rattled.

  The music couldn’t do that, could it? He held his breath and fixed his gaze on the door. Was someone in there? Mikey’s heartbeat raced and his eyes stretched wide open.

  The handle turned.

  His heart beat faster. He squeezed Chomper closer to his chest.

  The door latch clicked, and the door squeaked open two inches, revealing the thick darkness within. His skin crawled. It was watching him.

  “Who’s there?” Mikey’s words hung in the air unanswered.

  He lifted Chomper up and moved him out in front of his face. Chomper wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. Whatever was in there would get eaten up if anyone dared to come near him.

  He waited to see the thing emerge. Nothing came out. Either Chomper had scared it away or it wasn’t anything. His closet door never shut tight, anyway.

  But the door handle had turned.

  The thumping music from downstairs must have rattled it open… or whatever was hiding in his closet.

  He wasn’t a baby, but he wasn’t about to get up and close it. That’s how they got you. The monsters. They would lure you out of bed and grab you before you could scream. The ones under your bed would clamp onto your ankles before dragging you down and eating you alive. The ones in the closet would devour you with razor gnashing teeth. If Mikey even got his fingers near that door handle, its claw would swing around and grab his wrist. It would drag him in before he knew what was happening.

  He stayed in bed and pulled the sheet up just under his line of sight. Chomper stayed out in the open air to keep an eye on things. He could handle anything that approached.

  Mikey couldn’t look away from the narrow black opening staring back at him. The shadows churned, but no monster… yet.

  Something thumped in his closet again.

  This time there was no doubt. Something alive had knocked against his closet wall. Mikey didn’t move.

  But how could someone have gotten in there? He would have seen them. It didn’t make sense. Impossible.

  The bathroom was behind the wall of his closet. The pipes rattled and whooshed after a toilet flush, so maybe one of Rachel’s drunk friends had crept upstairs without him noticing to use the bathroom. It didn’t matter that nobody was allowed upstairs. Rachel’s friends sometimes snuck into his parents’ bedroom and goofed around with the door closed. He cringed thinking about all the things they might have done in there.

  The wood floor creaked and his clothes hangars clicked together. Definitely not the plumbing this time. Something was in there. It rustled against his shirts and scraped against the wall—its claw?

  His ears picked up every noise, and each breath puffed in and out through his open mouth.

  Despite the blankets covering him, an icy chill swept through his body. If something came out, he would scream.

  A door slammed at the end of the hallway.

  Mikey shuddered.

  Muffled laughter followed. Two of Rachel’s friends had come upstairs. A guy and a girl. They’d gone into his parents’ room. Rachel would be in big trouble if his parents knew what was going on.

  At least someone would be nearby to hear him scream if something stepped out of his closet.

  The closet door creaked wider and every muscle tensed. He pulled the edge of his blankets closer. He shivered and held his breath.

  A strange odor filled his room. A stench that reminded him of a country field in the springtime after the farmer covered it with manure. No, worse than that. More like a rotting dead animal. He winced.

  Cool air touched his toes. They were sticking out.

  He yanked his feet back from the edge of the blankets. It could have gotten him. Luckily, he’d noticed it in time. He pulled them in a litt

le further, just to make sure the sheets fully protected him.

  The dark opening widened further as a footstep thumped onto the carpet. With his view of the floor blocked by the blanket, his imagination ran wild. A thousand horrible nightmares flashed through his mind. He imagined some heavy beast with salivating fangs waiting to pounce after he let his guard down.

  Something scratched against the wood door like heavy fingernails. Maybe one of Rachel’s friends was playing a trick on him. It wouldn’t surprise him if someone jumped out and laughed while he screamed.

  “You can’t scare me,” he whispered. He trembled, wishing whatever was in there would get it over with. It wasn’t funny at all. His skin tingled as his muscles tensed.

  The door creaked open a little more but he couldn’t look away. He fixed his gaze on the shadows shifting in the darkness.

  The thing in the darkness moved forward.

  Mikey’s heart thumped so hard he was sure it would explode. He pressed his eyelids shut and pulled the sheet up over his head, bringing Chomper down with him this time beneath the safety of the blankets.

  Another thump on the floor. The party music? No, the thing was coming out. The door creaked again and the thing’s foot hit the floor a little closer. It dragged its feet along the carpet between each step as if it couldn’t lift them all the way.

  If he looked out at that moment he would see it for sure. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to. If he looked at it, he would die.

  Play dead and lay still. His only way out.

  The air beneath his sheets filled with his hot breath. Not a single opening around the edges of his sheets. He was safe.

  The intruder’s breath snorted in and out through its deep throaty gargling as if it were struggling to breathe. Not human. No human breathes like that. It sniffed again and again, like a dog on the trail of its prey. The thing smacked its lips, then chomped and slurped as if it anticipated eating a meal soon.

  Within the darkness beneath the sheets, Mikey followed its movements as it approached.

  The thing bumped his bed. He clutched Chomper tighter. If he could just stay still, the thing would leave him alone. It couldn’t get him beneath the blankets.

  With the sheets pulled like a tent over his face, something scraped against the sheets. A claw dragged its nails up toward his head as if searching for an opening to dig in at him. It moved up around his head, scratching in a wide circle over his forehead as if drawing a target. Each breath gurgled in and out as it hovered over him.

  If it got any closer, he would scream.

  He tried to hold his breath, but he gasped and a chill ran up his spine. Maybe it had heard him.

  Go away. Go away. Go away.

  Its claws moved up and dragged along the side of his head.

  It would get him any second.

  He had to do something.

  He drew in a deep breath and screamed. “Go away!” His voice deafened him for a moment beneath the blankets.

  He thrust Chomper up into the cool bedroom air with his eyes still sealed shut. His right fist slammed against its flesh. Cold, moist, and solid, like a crab’s shell.

  The thing recoiled as he lifted Chomper with his other hand and shook him in the air toward the beast.

  He wanted to jump out of there and run, but his legs didn’t respond. All he could do was scream.

  “Rachel!”

  He screamed louder this time. The thing stumbled back and knocked against his desk. His trophies clanked together and his desk chair spun around.

  He cracked his eyes open for a moment. The inky silhouette of a tall, wide creature stood a few feet away.

  Mikey growled, waving Chomper higher into the air.

  Instead of running away, the thing lumbered toward him again and clawed at his legs.

  He clamped his eyes shut again. He couldn’t look. If he saw the thing’s face, the terror would kill him. In the darkness, he kicked his feet as hard as he could, slamming his toes into a larger section of its body, a softer, fleshy surface like its abdomen. The thing groaned and snorted. Not human at all. He screamed again and thrashed his legs into the air. He pulled the blankets up to his neck and turned his face away.

  While gripping Chomper, he slammed his knee up against the thing’s boney upper body shell. Pain shot through his leg, but the thing moaned like a tortured bear. Mikey had hurt it. Good.

  But it still didn’t back away. It smacked its lips again as if prepping to take a bite out of him at any moment.

  Where the hell was the babysitter? Mikey screamed again.

  “Rachel! Where the hell are you?”

  His face warmed as he aimed his voice at his bedroom door.

  “Dammit, Rachel, get in here!”

  Mikey kicked again and his bare leg poked out from beneath the sheets, brushing against the thing’s claw.

  It clutched his ankle and squeezed, lifting his foot toward its slobbering mouth. Mikey couldn’t break free. It twisted his leg around, bending it at an odd angle. His leg would snap off it didn’t let go. Far from human, that thing could rip him to shreds.

  Rachel yelled a torrent of swear words as she stomped up the stairs.

  The thing stopped and its grip on his leg loosened.

  Michael still pressed his eyes shut, even as the thing moved away from him toward the closet.

  Chomper must have scared it away. Mikey shook the animal in the air again and growled, before pulling the blankets over his face again. He nursed his aching leg.

  The thing shook the floor as it rumbled back into the closet and latched the door shut.

  Rachel stormed in a moment later and flipped on the light. Even after she entered the room, Mikey screamed again, just to make sure she understood it was an emergency.

  “What the hell?” she yelled. “What’s so damn important?”

  He didn’t come out from under the blankets. “Get that thing away from me!”

  “Get what away from you?”

  “That thing.”

  “What are you talking about? Why are you freaking out?”

  Mikey trembled beneath the sheets. His fingers grasped the edges even as the babysitter stepped closer. He couldn’t lower his defenses, even if Rachel was there.

  “What are you hiding for?” She yanked back his sheets. “What the hell, Mikey? You have a nightmare? The monster under your bed is coming to get you? Well, that’s what happens to naughty kids who don’t go to sleep on time. They get eaten up by monsters.” Rachel made chomping noises. “You better not scream anymore or it’ll feast on your little crybaby brain.”

  Mikey peeked out over the blankets. The closet door was closed, and Rachel stood above him with her arms folded over her chest. His desk chair now faced backwards. His trophies had shifted. “There’s something in my closet. Get rid of it.”

  Rachel growled. “Good God. There’s nothing in your closet, you loser. Go back to bed.”

  “Yes, there is. You don’t believe me, but go see for yourself.”

  She scowled and rolled her eyes as she stomped over to the closet door. Mikey gasped and pulled up the sheets again to the rim of his nose as she opened the door. This time, he forced himself to face whatever lay inside. If the thing was still hungry, it would grab her first, giving him enough time to run away. That would be okay with him.

  Mikey held his breath as she poked her head into the closet. He imagined the thing would jump out, take a bite out of her, and drag her inside to consume her in private, but nothing happened.

  “Nope,” she said. “Nothing here except your stinky clothes. You’re just a baby. You don’t still believe in monsters, do you? Babies believe in things like that.”

  “Check behind my clothes.”

  She mumbled and pushed back a wide section of his shirts. The hangers clicked together, and she stepped back out of the way so he could see the closet was empty. “No monsters.”

  He pointed down. “Maybe under my stuff.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh and dug through some clutter around the floor. “Nothing. Maybe you got rats in here. Wouldn’t surprise me at all. It’s a pig sty. Shit everywhere.” She lifted out the half eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich he’d left in their days, or maybe weeks, earlier. “Plenty of food for rodents in your room. Next time I babysit you will clean all this crap up.”

 

1 2 3 4 5