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    A Collection of Unsettling Short Stories
    A Collection of Unsettling Short Stories
    A Collection of Unsettling Short Stories
    Ebook107 pages1 hour

    A Collection of Unsettling Short Stories

    By Jacci Gooding

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    About this ebook

    An eclectic collection of 13 creepy short stories for lovers of the macabre, the weird and the ghostly. Have you ever felt you're not alone - when you're alone? Ever wondered what makes a psychopath - nature or nurture? And if you've ever glimpsed something out of the corner of your eye but found there's nothing there, then these stories are for you. Some are even based in fact - and as we all know, fact is often far stranger than fiction.

    Sleep well.  But leave the light on.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJacci Gooding
    Release dateMar 29, 2017
    ISBN9781386500018
    A Collection of Unsettling Short Stories
    Author

    Jacci Gooding

    Enjoying an over-active imagination from an early age, Jacci Gooding has written all sorts of short stories, long stories, poems and plays. This collection of unsettling short stories was inspired by experiencing the horror of night terrors - because it’s only a dream, right? She lives in rural Warwickshire, England, with her husband and various animals.

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      Book preview

      A Collection of Unsettling Short Stories - Jacci Gooding

      CONTENTS

      Introduction

      Chef

      The Garden

      (not his real name)

      The Carer

      Empty Except For One

      Channel One Six

      Mother: originator, source, protector

      Betty Hen

      The Offering

      Carrion Wood

      In At The Deep End

      Night Terror

      Leave The Light On

      Introduction

      ––––––––

      Welcome to my world.

      It’s a bit weird...

      Chef

      Dave was very proud of his new fire pit barbecue - so much so than no sooner had he unpacked it he’d texted invites to friends and neighbours suggesting a barbecue that very evening to celebrate.

      A peculiar looking thing, the fire-pit barbecue looked somewhere between a hand-moulded clay oven with a pale green hue, and an early Victorian operating table, sporting an array of grills, griddles and roasting platforms. If you were an organised cook, you could probably feed the fifty thousand from it in one sitting. Standing on the backdoor step, Dave’s wife looked askance at the culinary behemoth that took up most of their small patio.

      Wasn’t expecting it to be that big, she said, but Dave wasn’t listening.

      Big enough for both of us to use, she suggested.

      It was a simple enough comment but it secured Dave’s attention immediately. Dave had no intention of sharing - he wasn’t going to let anyone else use his fire pit: it was his and his alone.

      Too many cooks ... he said vaguely, as he began tightening the few nuts and bolts that kept the top half fastened to the bottom half.

      Hey, Dave!  Yeah! Count me in!

      Dave and Val looked up to the fence where their neighbour Jim had appeared, phone in hand.

      Want me to bring anything?

      Just yourself, mate! responded Dave.

      With a cheery ok see you later, Jim returned to whatever he had been doing before his evening had been enriched by the invite from Dave.

      What’s going on? asked Val, irritably.

      Gotta test it, said Dave.

      But it’s spitting with rain.

      You can stay inside then.

      I hate it when you’re like this. Why can’t you just wait?

      Can’t wait. Gotta get on, replied Dave, returning to fiddling with a remaining recalcitrant nut and bolt.

      With a puff of exasperation Val stepped back into the kitchen.

      You’ve not been the same since that stupid survival course, she muttered, closing the backdoor behind her.

      Nut and bolt finally aligned and tightened and fire pit secured, Dave stood back to fully admire his new mini-furnace. He rubbed his hands together jubilantly then began to load it with bags of self-lighting charcoal. A snap of his lighter and the bags were soon burning, belching black smoke into his face and immediately filling the back yard. Dave smiled.

      What the hell is this? Val had reappeared at the back door holding a tray of bloody animal limbs.

      Dinner.

      Where did you get them?

      Butchers.

      You sure about that? she quizzed, before breaking into a spluttering cough as the smoke blew into her face.

      Give ‘em here! Dave took the tray from her and put two of the legs on the cooking grill.

      It’s not hot enough yet! You’ll give everyone food poisoning!

      Since Dave had been on a testosterone-heavy team-building course commendably offered by his employers, he had unexpectedly developed a taste for the outdoor life. Jenny from accounts however had not appreciated the same day-long Bush Tracker Course they had all been sent on, unwilling as she was to stalk and catch rabbits, break their necks, de-fur them and then stuff them full with foraged herbs before tying them, cross-pawed, on a wooden pole to cook over a fire. She preferred her meat prepared by professionals and skillfully contained in a plastic dish, restrained by cellophane and clearly dated. But Dave and his colleagues had leapt at the chance to spend a day in a forest poking a smoky wood fire with sticks and stalking and killing local wildlife - if only because it offered and opportunity to skive off work for the day, all expenses paid. As it turned out, the foray into the more masculine side of their natures came as an unexpected and welcome surprise. For those that fancied it, staying the night under leaky canvas was also an option. Dave and work-mate Mick, pumped-up by having hunted and killed a deer earlier in the day, wanted without doubt to explore their newly found hunter-gatherer gene and had opted to stay. Jenny was packed and ready to go before her taxi had even been called.

      Focused only on the cooking task ahead of him, Dave went into his garage to seek out a small table and some beers, leaving Val to retreat once more to the warmth of the house. It wasn’t long before his guests began arriving.

      Jim from next door was first, then brothers and old school friends Kenny and Pete, then Mick and Josh from work, and lastly distant neighbours Luke and Andy. They brought whatever they had found in the depths of their freezers, all of it bought long ago for some forgotten summer barbecue that never happened. Very quickly a pile of boxed burgers and other plastic-trayed, bright red, factory-formed meat-derived options on thin wooden skewers began to mount up on the ground next to Dave’s small table of fresh meat.

      Excellent! enthused Kenny, as he tucked in to a knuckle of something.

      Rabbit, smiled Dave.

      And this? asked Luke, poking a slab of meat with a fork.

      Er .. dunno ... steak I think, or might be that vegetarian from down the road! The men roared with laughter.

      Hugging a cup of tea, Val watched the men as they swigged beer hunched around the fire pit and chewed on whatever meat Dave had procured.

      Butcher, my arse, she said softly to herself.

      Clearing up in the morning, Val felt residual heat emanating from the barbeque. She’d fallen asleep long before Dave drew his gathering to a close, so surmised that the men had been prodding the pit until the early hours. If that was the case she thought, he’d be too tired for work.

      But, if anything, Dave’s night under the stars with his mates had had the opposite effect and he was invigorated by it. It soon became a regular event.

      On one of the rare occasions that the fire-pit cooled, Dave and Jim moved it to the bottom of the small garden, placing it among the ignored and untended vegetation.

      Why’d you do that? asked Val.

      Thought you didn’t like the smoke, responded Dave.

      Well, no, I don’t, but what’s with the canvas tent thing? Between the fence and an un-pruned shrub, Dave had strung an army surplus camouflage shelter sheet to repel any prying eyes from his fire pit evenings. Now he and his mates could sit beneath the stars whatever the weather, staring into the fire and chewing the various and curious cuts of meats his friends brought to the table. Val’s exclusion was complete.

      Try this, said Dave few days later, offering Luke one of three small birds from the hotplate.

      Pigeon? asked Luke.

      Sort of.

      Sort of? What, wood pigeon?

      Park pigeon, replied Dave.

      Luke smiled.

      As in, pigeon from the park?

      Got it in one!

      The men laughed and cracked their beer bottles together.

      Sorry I’m late, said Jim, stepping over the dilapidated fence and joining the group. Just got back with this. He offered four large steaks and some leg joints to Dave who immediately put them on the griddle plate. The men sat back and watched as the meat sizzled and browned, the smell of roasting flesh surrounding them. They sat in shared silence earnestly willing it

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