Spine-Chilling Stories in English & Spanish - Historias de terror en inglés y español
Multiple authors - Varios autores
Both languages will be in each chapter. English first, then Spanish.
Las historias estarán en los dos idiomas en cada capítulo. P...
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Silence is a wonderful thing. Not necessarily true silence, as that can be terrifying, but more the silence that is actually simply quiet. Not devoid of all sound, just missing voices, shouts, cars, phones, music. Peace, where you can listen to the wind spinning up the leaves to move them on to their friends and neighbours, unseen since they each fell from the same branch. Peace, where you can close your eyes and hear what is effectively nothing, and so is everything.
When the world surrounding you is so often full of bustle and your smartwatch keeps telling you you're stressed, to be able to take yourself away from it all is priceless.
Very's watch had been reminding her of her higher than normal stress levels all day. She'd tried the recommended breathing moments, but they'd failed to do anything other than show her she didn't have pause for a breath. Breathing, at least the meditative form, was for those who didn't have busy jobs, packed lives and children who needed taking to after school activities. They didn't then have to push those children to do their homework, shower and turn off their tech so they could sleep and not be tired the next day during school, because, come on, their grades were slipping and it was *the* most important school year!
As usual, Very paused before entering her house. The front door was large, black and had a small pane of frosted glass that obscured shapes to the point they were indecipherable. It was supposed to only distort so visitors could be more or less identified whilst providing a level of security, but it failed at that. Someone could have their nose pressed up to the glass and still have their features a blur.
She took a long breath in, holding it until lights sparkled on the inside of her closed eyelids and her blood thudded in her ears. After another second - always just one more second, though her lungs cried out for sustenance - she allowed the captive air a measured escape.
"Right," she said to the expected chaos.
She was telling it she was coming. She wasn't fully prepared, but would give it her best shot, so it better be damn well ready.
Then, with hand on door handle and smile on face, Very entered her home.
Jess was walking down the stairs into the narrow hallway. The newly adult but still somewhat immature girl stopped three steps up and smiled at her mum.
"Mother," she said.
Her voice was full of attitude, but her wry smile showed it wasn't a serious shittiness.
"Poppet," responded Very, her smile genuine, but apprehensive. "How's the cave and the grunts?"
"I'm good and the grunts aren't dead. Yet."
"Shame." She didn't mean it, obviously... "And the cave?"
"See for yourself."
The cave, their family home, should have had a different name. The Palace or The Castle. The Home, for duck's sake. It might have had if her children didn't act as if they hated each other. Bickering could be taken to new levels with the three of them. Very, herself, had often argued with her brother when young, but they, at least, had more times where they were friendly. They became much closer later in life, before Jordan was taken suddenly in the same car accident that killed their father.
