A book of strange and unnerving stories. A horror anthology novel filled with stories you send screaming.
Some stories contain graphic material, so those stories will include a warning at the start of it. Reader digression is advised.
Enjoy.
The old pickup truck, with its paint relentlessly scratched away and sputtering engine, drove down the gravel road; a cloud of white smoke trailed behind it. Inside the truck's cabin, sat Marilyn being jostled about as she tampered with the radio. The sound of treading over rocks accompanied the hiss of the radio in between two stations. Try as she might, Marilyn couldn't find a working radio station and so out of frustration, turned it off and folded her arms across her chest.
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"Jack, where the hell are we even going?" Marilyn pouted as she glanced out the dark tinted windows. "I know you wanna be festive for halloween and all, but this is a bit much, don't you think?" She turned her gaze to Jack who sat in the driver's seat. His hands at ten and two tightly around the wheel and his steady gape out on the desolate road before them. The beam of the dim headlights didn't reach far out onto the road that appeared endless. Overgrown grass and weeds surrounded the gravel road on either side with a few sparse trees.
Jack never answered Marilyn, but kept his eyes focused on driving.
"Are you just gonna ignore me?" Marilyn snapped and shot him a cold glare.
"Sorry, babe, I'm just focusing on the road. Coyotes like to roam this area and I'd hate to hit one. Last thing I wanna do is have to scrub its blood off the grill," Jack answered with his eyes not once taking a quick glance at Marilyn. "I told you, I'm taking you out to a haunted house, not one of those cheesy pieces of crap that cost $20 per person. No, we're gonna see a real one. Get in the real halloween spirit."
Marilyn couldn't help but a chuckle a bit. "You know I don't believe in ghosts, Jack. The only thing that's gonna be scary about this house is the squatters. You know they'll sleep anywhere with a roof. Quite frankly, I'm not in the mood to be harassed and asked if I have money."
"There's no squatters here, babe,"Jack assured with the end of his lips curling upwards. "It's too far from anything for them to be out here, don't you think? Besides, if there are so happens to be any, I'll protect ya." He then snaked his hand to her thigh and rested it their. His eyes still focused before him.
Marilyn just sighed in response and watched the dim headlights that lit their way. As the truck continued on with its faltering engine, Marilyn was able to make out a large shape approaching on their right. It was unmistakably a house. The house transformed from a large black mass to a white, two story farm house. A bleak windmill stood out front and the blades rotated ever so slowly, emitting an eerie, low creaking screech. Marilyn shrank in her seat as they kept advancing towards the isolated house.
"You're taking me to a crack house?" Marilyn scoffed as her eyes feverishly scanned the house. It was clearly abandoned as if it hadn't seen a speck of life in decades. The house stood as your typical, cliched horror house that harbored inbred cannibals and necrophiliacs. The disheveled appearance of the farm house looked almost intentional, but Marilyn simply brushed it off and kept looking at it. The three steps that led onto the porch were broken and caved in; revealing the crawl space beneath the house. She didn't get a clear picture of the house until Jack turned onto the grassy driveway and the yellowed lights of the headlights draped over it. There she was able to pick up on more details that the farm house had to offer.
