Creepy Short Horror Stories To Read To The Creature In The Closet

By Winslow Swan

The Thing under the bed sleeps peacefully since listening to you read the other horror stories, but the Creature in the closet was a little upset that he did not get to hear any of them. Have no fear, Winslow Swan has cultivated a dozen stories to read to that pitiful creature dwelling somewhere among your clothes. Find out why murder is not as easy as it may seem to be, or why you shouldn't pick up hitch hikers, or why the devil indeed has bad day's. These and other fanciful tales of terror are waiting to be read to that Creature in hopes that it will get some sleep...but you won't!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Winslow Swan
• Release date: Feb 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370392698

Winslow Swan

Born and raised in Atlanta, Ga, I grew up surrounded by mystery and suspense, in book form. I also grew up listening not only to the great old radio horror shows but also heard the original run of the CBS Radio Mystery Theater. I contribute them for my imagination of horror and suspense. My favorite authors at the time were of course Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and Edgar Allen Poe. I now live in the North Georgia mountains where I am currently producing (with my best friend Crimson McKenzie) writing, directing, and appearing in a full cast audio series of horror, mystery, and suspense (with a few laughs along the way) titled "Doorway To Nightmare" on YouTube. (Check the channel out. 43 episodes with many more to come) Writing can, at times, become arduous and trying to find the quiet time to actually get my thoughts and stories down can sometimes be quite straining. However, I continue to do what I can to trouble the dreams of the reader. I find myself to be one of the few who have fulfilled all of their dreams. I have worked in both radio and television, as an actor and a writer, and have also appeared on stage. I have made two films (which shall both never see the light of day) and am now concentrating on a writing as a career.

Book preview

Creepy Stories To Read To The Creature In The Closet

By

Winslow Swan

Published by

Winslow Swan

Swannage Press

Copyright 2018

Other Works by this Author

Toppling Over The Edge

The Convincer

Feather Brained

Do Not Read This Book

Click (a tale of revenge)

No One Is Afraid Of Monsters Anymore (and other stories to read to the Thing under the bed)

More Stories To Read To The Thing Under The Bed

The Suicide Killers: The First Jake Rhodes Mystery

The Hitchcock Killer: The Second Jake Rhodes Mystery

The Haunted House Killer: The Third Jake Rhodes Mystery

The Thing Under The Bed and the Final Stories To Read To The Thing Under The Bed

Available at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/winslowswan

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

All names and firms depicted in this novel have been completely fabricated by the author’s own imagination. Any similarity to persons, places, or locations is purely coincidental and should not be inferred.

Table Of Contents

Prologue

A Novel Idea

Not Carrie

Calculated Risk

Cause Of Death Again

Hitch

Murder Is So Hard

One Lucky Day

Playtime

Roadside Assistance

The Devil’s Bad Day

The First Hunt

We Have Rights Too

Prologue

Aka

And Now A Word From The Author

(or perhaps a few dozen words)

Sometime during the last couple of years, the thing under my bed began to have long, drawn out conversations with the creature in my closet. The thing told the creature about the stories that I had been reading to it, how the stories made it comforted and restful, stories that made the Thing’s blood run cold with fear and horror. The Creature that dwells somewhere deep within the innermost part of my closet became a little jealous at all the attention that the Thing under my bed was getting.

I woke up from a very deep sleep to several eyes that burned into my head. I could not distinguish a mouth, or even lips, but I distinctly heard a low and guttural voice that seemed to come from all around me. It growled and made several very rude remarks which included telling me that my parents had never been married. I saw as my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness that surrounded me the skin, or what I thought to be skin, old and wrinkled and almost had a life of its own.

Why don’t you read me one of your stories? the creature asked.

At that point, I embarked on yet another collection of stories that will hopefully appease the Creature in your closet but at the same time make your blood run cold and give you that small shiver that lives somewhere along your spine. Maybe as you read these creations from my own personal nightmares a feeling of dread will overtake you and hold you in its grip for a small period of time.

One can only hope.

Enjoy!!

A Novel Idea

Crime desk, Jack Casey speaking, how may I help you?

Jack looked at the small digital clock that sat on his cluttered desk in the city room of the Times. It flashed momentarily, reading 9:18 p.m. Looking around, he saw a few other reporters who were quickly trying to finish whatever story that they were working on before the deadline.

See you tomorrow, Jack, Fred Appleton told him as he made his way to the elevator.

Jack waved and asked the caller again how he may help them.

I said, the caller began again, that I have committed murder.

Great, Jack thought, another crank. Why couldn’t he have just finished the last part of the story that he was working on and call it a night without answering the phone? Why, with all the other reporters sitting around did he have to take the call? He could have already been sitting at the Capital bar, sipping his beer, watching Kylie Jones, the sultry jazz singer belting out real jazz tunes from a bygone era.

All in a day’s work, he thought.

Grabbing a pencil he thought that he might at least hear the crank out.

I’m sorry, Jack began, did you say that you wanted to confess to a murder?

That seems to be the trouble with people, the caller said. They never listen. What I said, Mr. Casey, was that I have committed murder. As a matter of record, I have dispatched 87 people in my career.

This guy really was off the deep end, Jack thought.

Listen, don’t you think that you would be better off calling the police? Jack asked.

They wouldn’t believe me anymore than you do, the caller said.

At that point, Jack began to listen to the caller’s voice. He determined that it was definitely male, perhaps in his mid or late 40’s. It didn’t have huskiness to it, more of an educated speech which struck Jack as a little odd.

So why exactly are you calling me? Jack asked.

There was a slight pause and for a moment, Jack thought that the crank had hung up. Instead, in a very slow and steady voice the caller said, I have run out of ideas.

Jack looked at the phone then looked around at the only two other reporters in the room. They were working at their computers so they could not possibly be calling him with this nonsense. Maybe it was someone at the bar playing a prank.

Ok, Frank, the joke has gone on long enough, Jack finally said. I have one paragraph to go and then I will see you down there. You can buy me a beer.

I’m being very serious, the caller said.

Sure you are, Jack said. And I have thirteen bodies buried in the basement. Now why don’t you call the hospital and check yourself in and let me finish my story.

The Kingston Four, the caller said.

This made Jack stop from hanging up the phone.

What did you say? he asked.

About ten years ago on February 14th, four teenagers were mutilated beyond recognition. A man named Clarence Stevens was convicted of the crime because of DNA evidence. I can assure you that he was innocent. He just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

You aren’t telling me anything that wasn’t in the paper, Jack told the caller. I covered that story myself so I know all about it.

You did an admirable job with the story, the caller complimented him. Of course you did have to leave out that the killer had extracted a vital organ from each of the bodies and took them with him. I believe that there was a kidney, a heart, a lung, and the piece de resistance, the brain.

Jack’s face went ashen white.

That information wasn’t for the public, Jack said in a breathless whisper.

I know, the caller said, his voice more confident. It was my homage to Thomas Harris, creator of one of my favorite characters.

You ate the parts? Jack asked, feeling queasy.

They were actually delicious with a bottle of chianti, the caller said.

Don’t forget the fava beans, Jack reminded him.

Sorry, I don’t particularly care for them, the caller said. Perhaps you need a little more convincing. Do the six murders of prostitutes in Seattle mean anything to you?

The repeat of the Jack the Ripper case, Jack said aloud. He recalled the case last year but also remembered that someone had been caught for that series of killings as well.

A pimp named Johnny French was convicted and sentenced for that spree, the caller said. He now sits on death row awaiting his final hour. I can assure you that he is also innocent of the crime of murder. Information that was not reported was that a lock of hair was snipped from each of the victim’s. I had to add a little flare, don’t you think? I don’t mind copying someone but I feel that there should be something original thrown in, just to make it interesting.

See you tomorrow, Jack, the last reporter said, leaving him alone in the copy room. Most of the lights had been turned off, leaving him in semi darkness. Only the glow from his own computer screen gave his small cubicle a ghostly feel to it.

So what gave me the honor of hearing this fascinating trip down memory lane? Jack said, trying to sound nonchalant and not doing a very good job of it. He was growing more nervous by the minute.

Mr. Casey, the voice said slowly, I have followed your career since you began working for the Times. I have found your stories to be informative and quite entertaining. As you know, the average newspaper is quickly becoming a thing of the past. People get the news from the internet now. It is very difficult to cut out an article for a scrapbook from a computer screen.

So you just decided to call and have a little chat? Jack asked.

No, the caller said with a slight embarrassed tone. "I must confess that after a lot of thinking and planning, I have run