Spooky Stories and Twisted Tales Read online

  Spooky Stories and Twisted Tales

  Roger Hurn

  © 2012 Roger Hurn

  Roger Hurn has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  First published 2012 by Endeavour Press Ltd.

  Contents

  The Man Who Couldn’t Lose

  The Face at the Window

  The Haunted Car

  Dead Men’s Teeth

  A Cure For Cancer

  The Hook

  The Daughter

  The Appointment in Samarra

  Take Care What You Wish For

  Nathan and the Devil

  The Hunger

  Best Mates

  Pets

  The Man Who Couldn’t Lose

  In the medieval city of Prague there lived a parson who loved to play cards. He practised every day and there wasn’t a game he couldn’t master. The parson neglected his duties at the church because he would rather play poker than say his prayers.

  At first he just played against his friends for fun but one day he suggested that they play for pennies in order to make the games more exciting. His friends agreed and naturally the parson won. Just as naturally, they wanted the chance to win their money back and so they played more games for higher and higher stakes. But, no matter how hard his friends tried to beat him, the parson always ended up as the winner. The day finally arrived when his friends refused to play anymore.

  “You should challenge professional gamblers,” they said. “You are good enough.”

  The parson took his friends at their word and sought out the company of hardened gamblers. In the beginning these men thought the parson would be easy pickings but they were shocked at the skill with which he played. His fingers could make the cards dance when he shuffled the pack and he thought nothing of risking a fortune on the turn of a single card. His reputation spread like wild fire and people travelled from all over Europe to challenge him. But, it seemed that lady luck was in love with reckless parson for he never lost. However, the parson was not really interested in the money; he craved the thrill of winning.

  At last even the professional gamblers refused to sit down to a game with him.

  “No one can get the better of you,” they complained bitterly. “You won’t be happy until you’ve ruined us all.”

  So the parson was reduced to disguising himself and visiting the inns and taverns of Prague where he tricked unsuspecting customers into playing games of chance with him. He would watch the men playing and then say that their game looked good fun. When they asked him if he wanted to join them he would smile innocently and say that he had never played before but that, if they didn’t mind, he would love to. Then he would proceed to fleece them of every penny they possessed.

  Soon the word of his trickery spread all over the city until there remained not a single tavern where he was welcome. And no matter how cleverly he changed his appearance, his magic fingers gave him away the second they touched the pack. There was no one in Prague who was such a master of the cards and the parson found himself banned from all the places where people gathered to enjoy a game.

  The parson was absolutely miserable that no one would play against him anymore. He cared nothing for the fact that a terrible plague was raging in Prague and his duty demanded that he visit the sick and the dying to comfort and pray for them. Bodies were being piled up inside his church but the parson had no interest in conducting the burial services. All he wanted was someone to challenge his skill at cards. He could think of nothing else.

  One stormy night the parson sat alone in his room playing patience. Suddenly, he leapt to his feet and shouted, “No, this just won’t do. I will not play against myself. I am the greatest card player in the World but I need new opponents who are worthy of me.” Then his face lit up and he muttered to himself, “Ah, I think I know where I can find them.” So saying he grabbed his candle lantern and swept out of his lonely room. He stamped across the graveyard and marched into the church. He placed his lantern down on an empty coffin, pulled out a deck of cards and said to the corpses lying on the floor, “The living won’t play me, lads but surely you are not afraid to give me a game. After all, what have you got left to lose?”

  The candle flame guttered and flared and the stone floor of the old church creaked and cracked as three of the corpses slowly sat up and climbed unsteadily to their feet. They shuffled over to the parson and sat down next to the coffin. A strange blue light glowed in their eyes.

  “We will play you, Parson,” said one of the dead in a raw, harsh voice, “but not for money.”

  “If not for money then what?” asked the parson.

  “We will play for your life,” answered the corpse.

  The parson grinned happily. “At last a game worth playing and a stake worth playing for,” he said. “But I must warn you my friends that I never lose and I have no intention of losing tonight.”

  The three dead men looked coldly at the confident parson. “Deal the cards,” was all they said.

  The parson and the corpses played all through the night. Sometimes it seemed as if the dead men were winning and sometimes the parson appeared to have the upper hand. Then finally, just before the cock crowed for dawn, only the parson and one corpse were left playing.

  “The time has come, Parson” said the corpse, “to see whether you live or die. Show me your cards.”

  “Fair enough,” replied the parson. “I have a terrific hand – three kings and two queens. That’s a full house and nearly unbeatable.”

  The dead man said nothing but just stared at the parson. The eerie blue light in his eyes burned very brightly. The parson swallowed hard.

  “What cards do you hold?” he asked nervously.

  “I have two pairs,” said the sinister figure.

  The parson gave a huge sigh of relief then his usual proud expression returned. “Then I’m afraid I win,” he said smugly. “A full house beats two pairs.” He stood up and turned to leave.

  “But you haven’t seen my cards yet,” said the corpse.

  The parson turned back and said, “All right, my friend, if you insist. Show me your cards.”

  “Well,” whispered the dead man, “I have one pair of aces and another pair of aces.”

  “But that’s four aces,” screamed the horrified parson.

  “Yes,” agreed the corpse. “So you lose.”

  The parson gasped with horror and then fell lifelessly to the floor.

  When the good people of Prague came to the church later that morning to say their prayers, they discovered the body of the parson but, try as they might, they could not take the cards from his cold, dead fingers.

  The Face in the Window

  A teenage girl was home all alone watching TV on a cold winter night. The television was right beside a sliding glass door, and the curtains were open.

  Suddenly she saw a creepy guy staring at her through the glass! She screamed, then grabbed the phone next to the couch and pulled a blanket over her head so the man couldn't see her while she called the police.

  ‘You must come quickly,’ she gasped. ‘I think my life is in danger!’

  She was so terrified that she remained shaking under the blanket until the police arrived in a blaze of flashing lights and howling sirens.

  It had snowed a lot during the day, so the police naturally decided to look for footprints. But there were no footprints at all on the snowy ground outside the sliding door.

  One of the officers glanced at his partner, raised his eyebrows and grinned sarcastically. ‘I guess she must have an overactive imagination. No one’s been out here tonight except us.’

&nb
sp; ‘Right’, replied the other officer. ‘We’d better tell her to stop watching horror movies and stick to the Disney Channel from now on.’

  Both men laughed and made their way back inside the house – and that's when they saw the wet footprints on the floor leading up to the couch where the girl was still sitting. The policemen looked at each other nervously.

  ‘Miss, you're extremely lucky,’ one of them finally said to her.

  ‘Why?’ she asked.

  ‘Because,’ he said, ‘the man wasn't outside at all. He was in here, standing right behind the couch! What you saw in the window was his reflection!’

  The Haunted Car

  A man was on the side of the lonely road hitchhiking on a really dark night in the middle of a thunder storm. Time passed slowly and no cars went by. It was raining so hard he could hardly see his hand in front of his face. Suddenly, from out of the rain, a car appeared next to him. It was moving very slowly and its engine was silent. The man didn’t give this a second thought. He was just relieved that someone was stopping for him. So, thanking his lucky stars, the man wrenched the passenger door open and leapt inside the car. He slammed it shut against the furious weather.

  ‘Thanks for this, mate,’ he said. ‘You’ve saved my …’ but the words died in his mouth. There was nobody behind the wheel! He was alone in the car. The car continued moving slowly forwards. The man sat rigid in his seat. He was far too terrified to even think of jumping out and running.

  Then, through the windscreen, he saw to his horror that the car was approaching a sharp bend in the road. ‘Oh no, I’m done for,’ he muttered. He was sure the ghost car would go off the road, crash into a tree and burst into flames. ‘This haunted car wants to make me its ghost driver,’ he sobbed.

  But, at that very moment, a pale hand appeared through the driver's window and turned the steering wheel, guiding the car safely around the bend.

  Paralyzed with fear, the man watched the hand reappear every time they reached a curve. Finally the man could take no more. He screwed up his courage jumped out of the car and sped off down the road. As he did so, he heard a cry of rage mixed in with the howling wind.

  ‘It’s the car,’ he said to himself. ‘It knows I’ve beaten it and it’s furious!’ He raced off down the road without so much as a backward glance.

  He soon arrived at a roadside cafe. He burst into the cafe and yelled for a hot, strong cup of tea with plenty of sugar. All the other customers stared at this crazy guy who stood there shaking with fear. Then, in a voice raw with horror, he told the whole café about his supernatural experience. When he finished his tale a silence filled the room. People looked at each other and swallowed hard. The hairs rose on the back of their necks. They knew this man was telling them the truth.

  Suddenly, the door to the café opened and two men walked in shaking the rain from their coats. They stopped and stared at the hitchhiker.

  ‘Hey,’ said one of them, ‘there's that guy who jumped in our broken down car when we were pushing it in the rain!’

  ‘That’s right!’ said the other man. ‘You’ve got a real cheek, pal. You didn’t even offer to lend us a hand!’

  Dead Mens’ Teeth

  It’s coming up to the witching hour of midnight. Old Man Hedley is out all alone. He is using a lantern to light his way through the darkness. Then a sudden gust of wind blows out the candle in his lantern. Now Old Man Hedley needs a match and that is just what he doesn’t have no matter how often he pats his pockets. The only thing for it is to find someone to give him a light.

  He looks around but there’s not a soul to be seen in any direction. ‘This won’t do,’ he thinks to himself and decides to head on down the road apiece and see if he can’t bump into someone. Sure enough he soon sees a big man coming towards him out of the shadows. ‘This fellow will see me right,’ Old Man Hedley mutters. Then he sidles up to the fellow all polite and friendly and says, ‘Excuse me, friend, have you got a light?’

  The man turns his head and draws back his lips in a long slow smile. But the smile isn’t warm and affable; it’s cold like winter. It’s the smile of a dead man - a dead man with long, sharp teeth. The longest, sharpest teeth Old Man Hedley has ever seen in all his born days. Hedley’s knees start knocking, his eyes pop and he screams like a stuck pig and all the while the man stands there smiling his dead man’s smile.

  Then an idea jumps into Old Man Hedley’s head. ‘Run’, says the idea. ‘Run for your life Old Man Hedley. Run as if the Devil himself was on your trail. And maybe he is, Old Man Hedley, maybe he is.’

  Old Man Hedley doesn’t need any second bidding. He takes off back up that lonely road like a streak of greased lightning with extra grease! He’s running fit to burst. Then when he can’t run another step he stops and gulps air into his lungs. He figures he’s put enough distance between him and the dead man now. He stumbles on through the darkness ‘till he meets another fellow on the road.

  ‘Lord, am I pleased to see you,’ he says. ‘Way back down the road there’s one of the walking dead. He’s got the longest, sharpest meanest looking teeth. And do you know what he does with them? Man, he smiles a smile that freezes the blood in your veins and that’s the honest truth!’

  The other man stares at Hedley and then he begins to smile. And it’s not just any old smile, it’s the self same smile Hedley’s just been talking about. The moonlight’s shining on those long, sharp teeth and Old Man Hedley’s beginning to wish he’d never gone out walking. Then it seems to him that instead of screaming his lungs out he’d be better off running away. So he does. He turns round and sprints back up the road the way he was going originally. He doesn’t so much as glance over his shoulder. At last he sees a man heading towards him. But Old Man Hedley isn’t worried. He’s sure this is a mortal, living breathing man just like him.

  ‘Hey brother, am I pleased to meet up with you. I’ve just met me a ghost and he’s …’

  The man doesn’t seem to be paying attention. He just blinks his eyes and says, ‘Tell me, friend have you ever seen teeth like these?’ He pulls his lips back and there they are again those nightmare teeth and that smile as cold as winter.

  Hedley’s so scared he doesn’t know up from down and he squawks like a hen who’s found a fox in the farmyard. Then his legs do the thinking for him and they take him racing down the road again. Hedley’s still clutching his lantern when, sure as night follows day, he sees a man heading in his direction.

  The fellow gives a laugh like ice cracking and says, ‘What’s up, friend? Can’t you find anyone to give you a light for that lantern of yours?’

  Hedley has had just about all he can stand of this. He decides he’s going to give this undead creature a taste of his own medicine. Old Man Hedley squints at the fellow and says in his nastiest voice, ‘Now look here, have you ever seen teeth as long and sharp and mean as these?’ Then he draws his lips back and smiles.

  But the man doesn’t even flinch. ‘Reckon I have,’ he replies.

  Hedley scratches his head. ‘Where?’ he asks.

  ‘In the mouth of that fellow standing right behind you,’ says the man.

  Hedley winces and then turns round really slowly. He comes face to face with the dead man who is smiling his horrible smile.

  Old Man Hedley screams so loudly it bounces off the moon then he takes to his heels and runs so far and so fast that he hasn’t stopped running yet.

  A Cure for Cancer

  Jim Jones was on a hunting trip. He drove his jeep along the bumpy track deep in the forest. The trees crowded in and at last he could go no further. He picked up his gun and jumped out of the car. He put his pack on his back and sniffed the air. His thin lips pulled back from his teeth and he grinned like a wolf. Jim was a happy man. He was a killer on the loose and he was where he wanted to be. He moved silently through the dark woods with his gun at the ready.

  Jim Jones was a big man with a hard cruel face. His cold eyes were the colour of ice on a frozen pond. He liked h
unting because he enjoyed killing things. His father had given Jim his first gun on his tenth birthday. They had spent the day shooting at tin cans on a fence post. But this didn’t interest Jim. He wanted a live target. He had started by shooting small birds and rabbits. Then, as he grew older, he started hunting deer. After a while this began to bore him. He wanted bigger game. So he hunted moose. But soon he found this dull. Jim wanted a prey that would fight back. He wanted danger. He wanted to kill a bear. Jim didn’t want just any bear. He wanted to shoot a grizzly. This was against the law. But Jim Jones didn’t care for the law. He didn’t care for anybody but himself. If he wanted to do something he did it. He didn’t let anybody stop him. Very few people tried. Jim Jones was a bully and nobody liked to get in his way. He was trouble with a capital ‘T’.

  Jim Jones was good at hunting. He slipped like a shadow from tree to tree. His sharp eyes saw every bird and animal in the forest. But he didn’t see a grizzly bear. This didn’t worry Jim. He had a good idea where he would find one. On his last trip he had found a cave where a grizzly bear lived. Jim was on his way there now.

  Like all bullies, Jim Jones was a coward. He wanted to kill a grizzly bear but he didn’t want to give the bear the chance to kill him. So Jim had set a steel trap for it. The trap was a wicked thing. It had razor sharp teeth that would snap onto the bear’s leg and not let go. ‘That old grizzly will be mad as hell’, Jim said to himself. ‘I’d better take care not to get too close. One blow from its claws could take my head off.’ Then he smiled. ‘Don’t worry, big man,’ he muttered. ‘It wouldn’t be any fun if it was too easy.’

  When he came close to bear’s cave, Jim stopped to listen. He was puzzled. He expected to hear the grizzly’s cries of rage. But the woods were silent. He licked his lips. He was nervous. He crept forward slowly. He had his finger on the trigger of his gun. Jim felt the sweat trickle down his back. There was a knot of fear in his stomach.