Are you brave enough to face your deepest fears? Bella Darkwood is back with Shivers volume 2, a bone-chilling collection of horror stories that will leave you breathless. From cosmic horror to body horror, from tales of deep sea terror to supernatu...
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The sky was an ashen gray, the pregnant clouds threatening to birth a storm. Towering trees surrounded the desolate two-story building like ancient sentinels, their gnarled branches casting grotesque shadows that seemed to dance on the peeling exterior of the old house. The gravel driveway crackled under the tires of a rusting pickup truck as it pulled up, the vehicle looking pitifully small in comparison to the intimidating structure it faced.
Three men climbed out; a muscular man with paint-stained jeans and a face lined with the tribulations of his trade, a young and lean assistant with a stubbled chin and apprehensive eyes, and a burly, no-nonsense man with a toolbox that clinked with the promise of refurbishment. They were Eddie, the painter, Ray, the decorator, and Joe, the handyman.
They were greeted by a fourth man in a smart charcoal suit, his face pinched with anxiety hidden under a thin veneer of professionalism. His handshake was cold, his eyes darting around as if afraid to meet those of the tradesmen.
"Gentlemen," he began, his voice wavering slightly, "I'm Martin, the real estate agent handling this property. The owners are eager to see it brought back to life."
The three workers exchanged glances. "Right. Shall we get to it, then?" Eddie said, breaking the ice.
Martin nodded, withdrawing a rusted iron key from his pocket and unlocked the heavy wooden door. It groaned in protest, revealing a cavernous entrance hall bathed in a sullen, gloomy light that streamed in from the dust-covered windows.
"Charming," Ray muttered sarcastically, his eyes scanning the dilapidated wallpaper and damaged wooden floorboards.
Joe grunted in agreement, eyeing the cracked plaster and moisture damage with a mix of dread and anticipation. "There's a lot of work to be done here."
As they moved deeper into the house, an icy shiver ran down their spines, as though the building itself was observing them, a monstrous beast disturbed from its decades-long slumber. The walls whispered of ancient tales, secrets, and horrors, their silence broken only by the creaking of old wood and the distant echo of their own footsteps. The stale air carried the scent of decay, of abandoned dreams, and time forgotten.
They trooped into the drawing-room, the wallpaper here was stained and the hearth choked with decades of soot. Martin, who was leading the way, paused and seemed to freeze. He then quickly turned, saying, "I believe I've shown you enough. You understand the scope of the work."
Ray raised an eyebrow, casting a suspicious glance at the agent. "What's the rush, mate? Scared of your own shadow?"
"No, it's just..." Martin hesitated, "This place...It has a history. It's just eerie."
Eddie chuckled, "All old houses do, mate. We've worked on worse. Haven't we, boys?"
The two others nodded, their laughter a hollow echo against the oppressive silence of the house. Their levity did little to comfort Martin, and even less to comfort themselves, for as they ventured further into the shadows, an ancient dread began to creep in. It was the feeling of intrusion, of unwelcome, as if the very walls of the house itself wished to cast them out.
