Night Mares Read online

  Contents

  Dedication

  Thank You

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Thank You.

  Father Gunter Series

  This book is dedicated to horror fans everywhere who just love a good knock-down-drag-out fight between good and evil.

  ..

  Thank You!

  I would like to thank my street team members and beta readers for all their help!

  I would also like to thank my editor - Paula Grundy - for doing such an excellent job!

  You can visit her site here: https://paulaproofreader.wixsite.com/home

  Copyright (C) 2018 Janine R. Pestel

  Layout design and Copyright (C) 2018 Janine R. Pestel

  Published 2018 Janine R. Pestel

  ISBN:

  Cover photo Copyright Mikesilent / 123RF Stock Photos

  Cover design by Janine R. Pestel

  Edited by Paula Grundy

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the

  product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance

  to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in

  any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

  recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the

  author’s written permission.

  -1-

  The woman made her way along the dimly lit hallway. The sound of her footsteps echoed off the naked walls. Her clothing stuck to her from the nervous sweat her body generated. Her ears detected the sound of her heartbeat as it bounced off the walls. Her eyes narrowed, and she grimaced, trying desperately to make sense of everything. She didn't remember when she arrived here. It was as though she suddenly appeared.

  All the while she passed through the corridor, another sound, both pleasant and familiar, played within her ears. It was like the soothing sound water made, as it lapped lazily on a shore somewhere nearby. It seemed to come from everywhere, and yet nowhere. She came upon doors. She passed them, one by one, and hoped the noise would be coming from one of them.

  She proceeded down the passageway, and the tiny sound brought to her mind pleasant memories. Memories of days spent on an island oasis with her husband. That was a lifetime ago to her now, since they separated over a year ago.

  The longer she walked, the longer the dark passageway became. The hallway and the darkness went on without end. She was amazed she didn't walk into something, with the hall being devoid of any source of illumination. No lights, no candles, nothing. And yet, there was illumination, albeit only enough to see a few feet ahead. Plus, there was still the matter of the continuous sound of the small waves, as they washed up on an unseen shore.

  She ducked her head when something soft unexpectedly made contact with her face. Her pulse raced, and her nerves tingled. Her hands trembled as she held back the impulse to cry out. The only substance that could have disturbed her was the one thing she hated more than anything – a spider web.

  To her, spiders were the worst thing ever. She found it nearly impossible to look at the tiny eight-legged creatures. The idea of their tiny legs touching her made her skin crawl. She shuddered and brushed her hand along the side of her face.

  At long last, she reached the door where the sound was the loudest. “Open the door. I have a special surprise for you. Please come in,” a child-like voice said to her. She looked around the area to see if she could find who was talking to her.

  Even though she couldn’t see where the voice came from, she obediently opened the door. She didn't particularly care whom the voice belonged to; she merely wanted the whole ordeal to end as soon as possible. The hinges squeaked lightly as the door opened.

  She entered, and it soon became obvious to her she had walked into the right room. But, when she examined the area she found no lake. No shore with small waves lapping upon it. The room was almost empty. Devoid of anything, save one object which lay on the floor. She wrenched her gaze downward and froze with fright. On the floor in front of her, lay a corpse. No, not just any corpse—her corpse. The strong odor of decayed flesh attacked her nostrils. She brought her hands up to cover the lower half of her face, but the odor found its way to her nostrils and assaulted her senses. Not only could she still smell it; she could nearly taste it.

  The eyes and mouth of the remains were open—frozen in one last expression of absolute terror. While the woman stared, she noticed movement in the cadaver's throat. The skin moved; it appeared to be throbbing. A moment later a black insect which, to her horror was a spider, exited the mouth. The creature had to be one of the largest spiders she had ever seen. She shrieked and recoiled from the small beast like a tightly wound spring.

  She nearly vomited, as arachnid after arachnid marched out of the lifeless oral cavity. Thousands came out, and almost appeared as a vile, black liquid. They crept over the torso. Their tiny chelicerae consumed the rotted flesh. The corpse’s two eyes started to move independently of each other. They began to bulge, then popped out, one at a time—forced out of their sockets by the thousands of small creatures which occupied the skull. Lifeless eyes hung to each side of the cheekbones, suspended only by what remained of the optic nerves. She watched in horror as the nerves became severed, and the eyes fell to the floor.

  The realization came to her in a flash. The sound that surrounded her this whole time wasn't that of water, as it lapped on a shore. It was the sound of hordes of insects, as they consumed her carcass. It was the sound of insects eating. Her limbs went limp, and her stomach roiled. Her esophagus burned as stomach acid, and other matter, rocketed up from her belly.

  She turned, and before she could bring her hand up to cover her mouth, she vomited. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and turned to run from the room and the terrible scene before her. While she ran her stomach swirled even more, and she once again reached up to her mouth to try and prevent herself from retching.

  She ran out of the room. Am I dead, and this is what happens before my soul leaves this earth? God, please, I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my children.

  She scurried as fast as she was able, away from the room, with her eyes closed. Her whole body trembled, and the sound of her heartbeat thrashed loudly in her ears. She could even swear that she heard her blood as it rushed through her arteries. She paid little mind to the spider webs that stuck to her face as she made her escape.

  She finally found her voice and began to scream. She screamed as loud as her lungs and vocal cords would allow. Her heart pounded in her chest so hard, it almost hurt. Sweat covered her face as though she had taken a saltwater shower. She wanted to open her eyes, but when she did, sweat dripped in. She blinked to dilute the salt which had gotten into her eyes, then closed them again. When it dripped onto her lips, all she could taste was salt.

  A weight bore down on the front of her torso. Was this a heart attack? She knew that tightness in the chest was one of the symptoms. She opened her eyes again and instantly regretted it.

  Right in front of her, only inches away, a face traveled with her. A ghoulish green-gray face, with skinny, pointed ears. Almost like a cross between a human and a bat. The creature's eyes resembled thos
e of a cat, only these eyes were red—blood red. It was so close to her face that their noses almost touched. A putrid odor came from its rotted teeth, the stench of dead and decayed meat. She glanced down and realized the creature clung to her chest while she ran, and this was what caused the sensation of tightness. It leered at her and took great delight in her terror.

  The woman stopped running and screamed. The ghoul made a sound. A terrible, high-pitched shriek, which subsided to a low gurgle, and made her blood run cold. It was reminiscent of the noise a person makes just before they die. A death rattle.

  The hideous monstrosity dissolved into thin air. A moment later, the distraught and confused woman discovered that she was sitting upright in her bed. She frantically searched the room to make certain of her whereabouts. She reached out into the darkness and fumbled around, looking for the lamp switch. Several items crashed to the floor before she turned on the lamp on her nightstand. It lit the room well enough for her to see; she was alone.

  She sat in the dimly lit bedroom. The raspiness of her breathing was the only sound. Her whole body trembled from the experience she just had. She reached up with both of her shaking hands and wiped sweat from her forehead.

  She had fallen asleep while a small fire burned in her bedroom fireplace. It went out long ago, and the embers were now cold. Her open window allowed the wind from an approaching storm to cause her drapes to flutter. The rumble of distant thunder did nothing to put her at ease. Flashes of lightning cast eerie shadows on her walls.

  The woman sat motionless on the bed. She tried to catch her breath and sort everything out. Her heart still beat hard and fast in her chest, so much so that she ached. Her hand hovered over the receiver of her phone. She wondered if she should call the paramedics or not. Her nightgown clung to her with sweat, and her hair felt sticky and matted. She closed one eye as a bead of sweat entered it, and the salt stung.

  She put her hand on her forehead. What a damned nightmare. What the hell caused that?

  The woman remembered the corpse in her dream, and the sudden urge to vomit overwhelmed her. Her stomach once again made her feel like retching. She placed her hand over her mouth and practically jumped out of her bed. She raced to the bathroom and never noticed the apparition that floated on her ceiling; its red eyes monitored her every move.

  After emptying what little remained in her stomach, she walked out of the bathroom. A small movement caught her eye. She glanced at the floor, and her eyes immediately found it. Her worst nightmare—a spider. Oh, my god. I keep my house immaculate. How can that thing be in here? That damned exterminator promised me I would be pest free. Wait until I see him tomorrow. He’ll hear about this.

  She gasped for air as she quickly looked around to see if there were any more of the little creatures. She recoiled, and clumsily backed up toward the fireplace.

  As she backed up, the arachnid turned and started to scuttle toward her. The creature’s two front legs menacingly lifted as it attacked. She screamed and retreated faster. She slipped on the smooth ceramic tile floor but managed to regain her footing.

  Her nightgown slid under her foot, and she tripped backward toward the hearth. The woman struggled to regain her balance. Her arms flailed wildly. One of her arms struck the marble mantel, and she knocked over her prized crystal chalice, a present to her from her now separated husband. He gave it to her when she won the election as mayor of the town. She fell, with the large poker standing ominously in her path.

  While she stumbled backward, more spiders crawled out from the walls and advanced on her. A sudden, sharp pain exploded at the base of her skull as the fireplace poker pierced the soft flesh of her neck and cut through her spinal cord. The last sound that came to her ears was the snapping of bone breaking as the sharp rod penetrated into her cranial cavity. The pointed metal tip thrust its way easily through her brain tissue and finally exited through her mouth; still open in mid-scream. Her blood erupted from her and splattered on the white-marble hearth. It streamed down her cheek, stained her light-yellow nightgown, and pooled on the tile of her floor. Small bits of brain matter slipped off from the point of the blood covered poker.

  As the life light dimmed in her open eyes, and her final breath escaped her lungs; the last image burned into her corneas. It was the face of the creature from her dreams, who leered down at her from her ceiling.

  A moment later, someone pounded on her bedroom door.

  "Mom," a young woman's voice shrieked. "Mom, are you okay?" She opened the door and entered the bedroom when she didn't receive an answer. She gazed at the body of her mother at the fireplace, impaled by the poker, and let out a blood-curdling scream. At the same moment, her older brother joined her.

  "Go call an ambulance!" the girl screamed to her brother as she ran to her mother's side. Her sibling left the room and ran down the stairs to the telephone in the living room.

  His hands trembled as he dialed the three numbers 9-1-1.

  "Nine-one-one dispatch. What is your emergency?" the operator said.

  "Oh, my god. Help us," the young man said. He remained calm as he spoke, "This is George Benson. Mayor Benson's son. Please send help. She fell in her bedroom. I think my mom's badly hurt." After giving the address, and all the other information the dispatcher required, he hung up the phone, and went back up to his mother's bedroom.

  He found his sister still on the floor near their mother. She held her deceased mother's hand and mumbled incoherently to herself. He walked over to her. She tried to stand, but her legs were too weak to support her, and she collapsed into his arms.

  "Georgie," she sobbed. "Mom's not breathing." He looked down at the mangled corpse and turned his sister's head into his shoulder. He tried to protect her from the ghastly scene. One look at his mother's eyes covered with a milky white film was all he needed to know. It was obvious their mother was dead. "I know, sis. I know," he said quietly.

  A short time later, sirens pierced the quiet of the night, as they approached the house. The knock on the door echoed through the house, and a voice shouted out, "Clemons Police. Open up." George walked to the door and opened it.

  "Thank you for coming so quickly, Officers," he said to the police at the door. The small group walked by the young man and his sister, who now sat on a chair in the living room, sobbing.

  "Where is she?" the officer in charge asked. George looked up at the ceiling. "In her bedroom." While the officers climbed the stairs to the mayor's room, more police and an ambulance arrived on the scene.

  "Better get CSI here," George heard come over the radio of a police officer, who was standing with him. The officer touched the mic on his shoulder. "Ten four," then, he spoke into his mic again. "HQ, this is car 17. We need lab presence at the scene. Also, send a car to inform the vice mayor. He needs to be made aware of the situation. He also needs to be brought to town hall to be sworn in." A moment later, the response came. "Roger, 17. Lab dispatched. Car dispatched to inform the VM."

  Vice Mayor Malcolm Tibbs was in his pajamas and almost ready for bed when someone knocked on his door. He went to his upstairs study, where he had a monitor set up. He installed one of those video doorbells, so he was able to see anyone at his door. On the monitor were two uniformed police standing at his door in the rain. They were officers Bill Hanley and Barbara Willets. Bill had been on the force for several years now, but Barbara was fresh off from being a rookie. Tibbs pressed the button on his intercom.

  "Can I help you, officers?" he asked.

  "Yes, Mister Vice Mayor. Please come to the door; we have something you need to hear," Hanley said. The official thought a moment before he spoke again. "Very well," he said, "Let me grab my robe, and I'll be right down."

  A few moments later, the door opened, and Malcolm Tibbs stood before the officers. He was an older gentleman, who was a little out of shape. He still had most of his hair, but male-pattern baldness made its presence known. He seemed pleasant enough, but something about him was decidedly unpleasant. No one, h
owever, could put their finger on exactly what that distastefulness was. And now he was about to become mayor.

  "Officers," the older man said, "what can I do for you?"

  "Mister Vice Mayor," Bill said, "we must inform you that Mayor Benson has had an accident, and they’ve requested we bring you to town hall." The robed man gazed almost blankly at the two officers.

  "Oh, my goodness," he said, "Has she been seriously injured?" At that moment, Officer Willets put her finger on the earpiece of her radio. She had received confirmation of the mayor's demise.

  "HQ just informed me she is deceased, sir," Barbara said somberly. "We need to take you to town hall to be sworn in as mayor. Then, if you wish, we will take you to her family."

  "Yes. Of course," Tibbs said, "It'll only take me a minute to change into some clothes, and I can be right with you. Please, come in out of the rain."

  While the government official went upstairs, to his bedroom to put on some appropriate clothing, the two came in out of the weather. The female officer shuddered.

  "You okay?" asked her partner.

  "Jesus, I think it's colder in here than outside," she answered. Her teeth chattered from the chill.

  "Brrr. You're right. It is damned cold in here," Officer Hanley said as he, too, began to shiver.

  Vice Mayor Tibbs came down the stairs completely dressed and ready to go. He approached Hanley and Willets and saw how they shivered. He opened his arms in a friendly manner as though to embrace the two cold officers.

  "Officers, sorry for how chilly it is in here. Just being fiscally conservative. Can't keep the heat too high. It wastes both energy and money." The two officers glanced at each other. Bill smirked, and Barbara rolled her eyes, but both were careful not to let Tibbs see them do it.

  The three walked to the parked police cruiser. Bill got in on the driver side, while his female counterpart held the rear passenger door for the elected official. Once he got into the vehicle, Barbara got into the front passenger seat, and the car left for the town hall. The policewoman keyed the mic on her shoulder.