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    Short Shrift
    Short Shrift
    Short Shrift
    Ebook46 pages42 minutes

    Short Shrift

    By Alwyne Ashweth

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Enter the world of the Strange Circle with this collection of dark short stories. Cryptic killers and ancient Gods stalk this place, and you would do well to prepare yourself with this macabre handbook of the unseen: Six tales of terror from the keeper of the Circle, Alwyne Ashweth.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAlwyne Ashweth
    Release dateAug 19, 2011
    ISBN9781465744203
    Short Shrift
    Author

    Alwyne Ashweth

    Alwyne Ashweth is a writer of dark tales and horror stories. He is 40 years old, and lives in London, England, the most mysterious city in the world. He is a keeper of the Strange Circle.

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      Book preview

      Short Shrift - Alwyne Ashweth

      SHORT SHRIFT

      By Alwyne Ashweth

      Smashwords Edition

      Crochet is copyright 2008 Alywne Ashweth All Rights Reserved.

      Going Under is copyright 2009 Alywne Ashweth All Rights Reserved.

      Last Will is copyright 2009 Alywne Ashweth All Rights Reserved.

      First Sitting is copyright 2009 Alywne Ashweth All Rights Reserved.

      Baxter's Key is copyright 2009 Alywne Ashweth All Rights Reserved.

      Tunnel Vision is copyright 2010 Alywne Ashweth All Rights Reserved.

      Smashword Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licenses 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're 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.

      http://www.strangecircle.org.uk

      Strange Circle is a Lost Foundry World

      http://www.lostfoundry.co.uk

      CONTENTS

      Crochet

      First Sitting

      Going Under

      Last Will

      Baxter's Key

      Tunnel Vision

      CROCHET

      The hook descended; a smooth movement that brought it down below the level of his chin, then upward in a single arc. Its tip pierced the skin in the soft place underneath the jaw, just above his Adam's apple. It emerged inside his mouth after driving through his tongue then continued its ascent, through palate, through sinus, every bone barrier giving easily with a dull cracking thud. Finally, through to the brain, the tip coming to rest somewhere behind his left eye. His chin now rested in the curve of the implement, a long iron bar passing in front of his face until it ended in a wide loop above the top of his head. This was gripped now by a leather gloved hand.

      There was a small grunt of pleasure as the hook found its home deep in the man's head. Then another sound of effort at the body rose upwards, lifted by strong arms. The loop at the end of the hook was slotted onto a large iron nail driven deep into the brick of the wall. There the body hung, the head held high as if in supplication to the heavens, the rest of the body limp and puppet-like; the shoulders arched forwards causing the arms to turn inwards, the backs of the hands touching as they came to rest over the crotch. The legs fell in a similar fashion, the soles of the bare feet held well above a similarly naked wooden floor.

      The gloved man stood back now to survey this latest addition to the walls. Three other hooks held similar trophies. The first of these, over to the left, was now in such a state of decomposition that what remained of her flesh hung in tatters around her abdomen and shoulders. The rest of the once pearlescent skin was black and shiny-looking. The face was almost unrecognisable. It was, as were all the others, held facing the ceiling by the hook fixing it to the wall. The dark bruise-like flesh was pulled tightly over skeletal cheekbones all surreally framed by long blond curly hair.

      She had been his first-born. This first link in the chain had been impulse on his part. A bold lass who had been walking through the park just as the sun was setting. She had been easy

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