Beware the Thirteenth Stroke

By B.D. Knight

A dead man found with all his blood drained from him. A strange clock terrified Sam Wilkes, a large detective who had seen his share of combat as well as street action. Blake Conner was an author Sam called in to see if he could provide any insight. He was a clock collector. 

Sam handed him a note. Scribbled on it were the words “beware the clock . . . the thirteenth stroke.”

What did it mean?

 How could a clock frighten a man like Sam? 

Was there any meaning to the fact a skeleton on the clock was carved from human bones?

Blake would regret purchasing the clock from the dead man's heirs. The end will startle you.

This is a short scary story you should read late at night sitting alone in a dark room.

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.D. Knight
• Release date: Jul 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536580495

B.D. Knight

I write books for middle grade and young adults. They range from scary to spun fairy tales and more.  Most of the stories, including the scary ones, are basically fantasy tales. YOu need to have an open mind when you read them. :-) That's one of the reasons I enjoy writing for the younger audience. I really think it's also why many adults are reading these types of books. To escape reality.

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Beware the Thirteenth Stroke

B.D. Knight

www.scarybedtimestories.com

Copyright © 2012 by B.D. Knight

All rights reserved worldwide.

No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form without the prior written consent of the author/publisher or the terms relayed to you herein.

These stories are fictional. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. Nothing in these stories is based on any real life happenings or any real life places. It is written for your enjoyment only.

The Thirteenth Stroke

The man’s dead, he said. Why the urgent call Sam? It’s a police matter. It couldn’t wait until morning?

The look of terror on Sam Wilkes face told Blake Conner otherwise. Sam was a big man. He was a combat veteran of the Iraq war and had been involved in homicide for the last six years. Blake couldn’t recall him ever being afraid of anything.

Check out the body, said Sam.

I’m an author, Sam, not a coroner.

You don’t have to be a coroner. Just check him.

Blake shrugged. He kneeled down and glanced over the body.

Yep. Looks dead to me.

Don’t screw around, Blake. Touch him.

A little touchy, aren’t we?

He put his hand on the victim’s arm and moved it. He stopped. Something was wrong. The body felt weird. It took him a moment to realize what was wrong. His shoulders sagged.

This man’s body’s been drained of blood. How the hell could that be?

That’s what I’m saying, said Sam. "Yet there’s no sign of blood