Fright Pack: 4 Chilling Horror Stories by Becky Rhush

FRIGHT PACK: 4 CHILLING HORROR STORIES BY THE AUTHOR BECKY RHUSH!

BLACK WEDDING

SEEING THE UNSEEN (A short story featured on the Youtube Horror channel HAUNTING SEASION)

THE SCALE (Based on true events)

THE ASH STREET STALKER (A 60 page chapter thriller!)

Excerpt from THE ASH STREET STALKER....

THE ASH STREET STALKER

Chapter 1

            Behind a bush only five feet from where I parked, a stranger hid from the beam of my headlights. And the side of my mom‘s house was dark. No motion light. Only darkness. My Jeep idled and I froze. The figure didn‘t move, taking cover behind the dying bush. Its jagged, sparse branches shook in the bitter wind of an October night… and shuddered just enough. Spider webbed the stranger just enough, that I couldn’t make out their features. But they were there. Waiting for me to get out.

She wants me to see her.

            My Jeep idled, fuming blue exhaust into the night as I sat glued to my seat like a block of ice. Unable to blink. Unable to move. My mouth went paper dry. And I sat paralyzed, white knuckling the steering wheel. My cab felt hot all of a sudden, too hot, my windshield steaming up. I reached a slow hand to my controls, eyes pinning the intruder, flicking off the heater. It werrred to a stop. The spiced fragrance of my car freshener, hanging as an apple cinnamon cut out of a mason jar at my rearview, seemed intense in my nostrils. The stranger had not moved a muscle.

            A fall night like this one made for dark streets. Lonely, black and cold. Especially out here where Mom lived on the edge of town… a secluded neighborhood bordering a stretch of vacant golf course. But for the distant dot of streetlights, her house would be invisible, cloaked by the moonless night. And of course, her porch light had been broken for years. Shorted out.

            Praying she wasn’t waiting at the door for me, I glanced over, catching the dim outline of her porch swing. It swayed, slow, creaking and unaware of the danger just feet away. The faint tinkling of her wind chimes jangled in the night, the breeze light but chilling. I flit quick eyes back to the serrated shrub, fearing I’d lose track of the intruder.

             Clutching the wheel, the crack of leather merged the sound of the howling wind through the crack in my window.

            What if it’s her? It has to be her! Who else could it be?

            I swallowed, cutting off those thoughts. Because, what if it wasn’t her? Would that be worse? Biting my lip, I slapped my locks down. Reaching across my passenger’s seat with a blind hand, I dug through the jumble of my mauve sweater and Coach bag. Why couldn’t I keep my phone close, handy, where I could just grab it? In my console. In my pocket. Anywhere but buried under layers of stuff. I had to call Mom. I had to tell her some psycho was stalking the side of her house at nine o‘clock on a Thursday night. 

                        “Oh no….” my words escaped in a whisper.

            On the way here, I was on the phone with Mom when Joss tried to beep. I was on my way over to drop off my sister’s new house key. I’d already made a copy, so I just had to give Mom back the original. No problem. And then I’d call Joss back. That was the plan.