13 Tales To Give You Night Terrors

  THE sun was already setting as Nolan finally spotted the narrow driveway leading to the lake house. He'd thought he was lost for the last five minutes and considered calling it quits. But there was Thirteen Serling Drive, barely visible through the thicket. The lake had to be on the other side. How far out had he driven?

  He crept the car down the drive until he reached the impressive two-story house with mammoth windows. The lights were on in one room and a classic car from the '60s or '70s was parked by the front door. It looked European and was jet black except for the white trim around the wheels and curtains in the backseat.

  Nolan parked next to the vehicle and stepped out into the balmy summer air. He couldn't believe how lucky he'd been to spot the ad on Craigslist. Housesitter wanted for one week $500. In other words, Hey Nolan, here's some easy cash to get out of your cramped house and enjoy yourself for a week. You're welcome.

  He knocked on the front door and stepped back. He'd emailed back and forth a few times with the homeowner, but there was still that voice in the back of his head telling him it was too good to be true. Maybe he was being catfished or lured out into the boonies by some psychopath.

  Just my luck.

  Nolan absent-mindedly tugged on his silver cross necklace. The door opened and a man with wavy black hair and moon-shaped glasses smiled at Nolan. He wore suspenders and a bow tie like he was horribly out of date or terribly fashion forward. He stuck his hand out for Nolan to shake, his skin cold to the touch.

  "You must be Nolan. Or a particularly polite home invader."

  "I'm Nolan."

  "My preferred choice. I'm Amicus Sundown. Enter."

  Nolan stepped inside the house and took stock of the space before him. A narrow hallway led to a room on one side and a huge open space on the other, part kitchen, part living room. The back wall consisted mostly of windows overlooking a dock jutting into the darkening lake.

  "My new summer home," Amicus explained as he shut the front door, a slight Southern accent in his diction. "Are you familiar with the property?"

  "The lake? Not really."

  "It's not the lake which interests me. It's the plot of land." Amicus ushered him into the living room while he busied himself in the kitchen. "I'm a collector, you see. I'm drawn to oddities. History. I'm leaving in just a moment, care to share a drink with me first?"

  "I'm only seventeen."

  "Perfectly legal in civilized cultures like Vienna or Cyprus."

  "Okay, sure." Nolan wasn't about to turn down free booze. His eye caught a drawing on the wall of a sad-looking clown. It looked like a child's picture.

  Amicus poured Mountain Dew, rum, gin and blackberry brandy into twin glasses half filled with ice. He trotted to the living room and handed Nolan one. He clinked the glasses together and brought his up to his thin lips. Nolan smiled weakly and gingerly sipped the drink. Sweet, carbonated, and unlike anything he'd had before.

  "What is it?"

  "Post Nap Funk." Amicus sat in an easy chair and clicked his tongue against his teeth. "The cat doesn't like strangers, you see. Macabre is a persnickety kitty, but he'll grow accustomed to you. Just make sure he doesn't leave the house. There are all sorts of things out there that'd give you night terrors."

  "No problem. You spelled out everything perfectly in our emails."

  "Yes." Amicus drank, his eyes closed.

  "You mentioned the fireplace. Where's the wood for it?"

  "There's a cabana of sorts behind the house. I may turn it into a bar. The wood is stacked there." Amicus stood and grazed his fingers along the mantelpiece. He stopped at a small taxidermied rodent. "It's more difficult, I hear, on the smaller creatures."

  "What is that? A mouse?"

  "It's a shrew. Most people feed them to snakes. Not this one. Tell me, do you like stories?"

  "Sure. Who doesn't?"

  "Good. I thought it important you know the history of the property. Just in case. Long before this home was built by the water, the entire area was farmland. The apple trees that dot the forest covered the fields and a farmhouse sat further inland. The Munroe family lived there until 1911. In the dead of night one summer evening, all six Munroes were lured into their barn, one at a time, where a stranger viciously hacked them to death with an ax from their own toolshed. A young farmhand who often stayed on the property was murdered inside the house."

  "That's awful. Who did it?"

  "No arrest was ever made. Three days after the murders, neighbors noticed the usually boisterous farm had been silent and none of the Munroes were seen in church. The police arrived and found the farm animals perfectly looked after. The killer had stayed in the farmhouse those three days, cooking meals and caring for all the animals and carrying out the chores. He must have eaten breakfast mere feet from the farmhand's gruesome corpse."

  Nolan shivered and sipped more of his drink. "So they tore down the farm and some yuppie built this lake house? No offense."

  "None taken. Would you like to know the most peculiar aspect of the case?"

  "Is it going to freak me out?" He'd be spending a whole week here, and he didn't want to imagine ghosts every time a floorboard creaked.

  The storyteller's eyes sparkled. "The killer covered every mirror in the house with sheets, as well as the farmhand's face, as if he couldn't stand the thought of being seen. For some reason, perhaps out of respect, he placed a single flower on the death veil. Even stranger, he wrapped a pillow case over the telephone."

  "Why would someone do that?"

  "Perhaps the killer couldn't stand the notion of anyone, or anything, reaching out to him." Amicus downed his drink and poured the ice out into the sink. "It's time I got going."

  Nolan felt something poke against his butt. He felt the couch cushion and found a collar stuffed inside with the name TROUBLE crudely written on it.

  "All right," he said. He stood up and walked toward the front door. He'd been looking forward to being alone, but after hearing the story, he couldn't shake the feeling he wished the stranger would stay just a bit longer. "I've got everything under control here."

  "Of course. I'll see you in one week, I'm sure." Amicus tilted his head to the side, giving Nolan a long look. The edges of his razor thin lips curled upward before he left.

  Nolan watched through the windows as the strange man approached his car and bent down for something that turned out to be a large apple. He bit into it as he got into the classic car. It started without a problem and then slowly backed out down the driveway. Nolan thought about the murderer all those years ago and pictured him dressed similarly to Amicus, only shabbier. Had he gorged on apples as all those bodies decomposed?

  At least I'm not in the murder house. Don't think about the axman.

  Alone at last. No brothers and sisters or his mother and father breathing down his neck. And apparently a fully stocked bar.

  He returned to the living room and tossed his keys on the coffee table. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and autodialed Parker, gazing out at the pristine lake through the kitchen window. The full moon reflected on the inky water beyond the dock. He thought about the week ahead and all the time he'd get to boat on the lake. Too bad it wasn't warm enough to swim at night, otherwise he and Parker could skinny dip. That was an idea all right. Screw the temperature, he could think of other ways to keep his boyfriend warm.

  My boyfriend.

  Two months of sneaking out of the house. Two months of lying to his brothers and sisters. Lying to his parents. He absent-mindedly touched the cross round his neck.

  But Parker's worth it. I can tell them about him when I go to college. If I'm still with Parker. I'll still be with Parker.

  "Hey, babe, what's up?"

  "Hey." Parker's voice brought an automatic smile to Nolan's face. "Dude left a minute ago. It's just me, the lake house, and Macabre the cat for seven whole days."

  "You're kidding."

  "Nope."

  Parker sighed. "I thought that was next weekend."


  Nolan felt deflated. All this excitement and he'd have to wait even longer. The phone vibrated and he found an incoming text from his mother reminding him to say his prayers every night.

  "Well, this vacation gig goes through next weekend," Nolan said.

  "I already got next weekend off and ordered us tickets to see This Is My Roommate," Parker said, his voice sounding flat.

  "What?" Nolan squealed.

  "I wanted to surprise you."

  "I am surprised! You're the best. I love those guys, but you're a close second. Oh my god." Nolan couldn't believe Parker's thoughtfulness.

  "Glad you're happy. Hopefully I can swing by after work."

  "I can't wait to see you. I've got everything to make us some Post Nap Funks."

  "Don't even. That drink's cursed," Parker said.

  "How's a drink cursed?" Nolan was surprised Parker had even heard of Amicus' drink; he'd been hoping to impress him.

  "I don't know. Just heard it's cursed. Like whoever created it was born under some bad mojo or something."

  "Just makes me want to drink that much harder," Nolan said. He took another sip and pulled open the drawer in the coffee table.

  "Fine, do whatever you want."

  "Thanks, Dad," Nolan shot back. He found the drawer full of trinkets. Something shined in the light. He pushed aside playing cards and a fire investigator's report and found dog tags with what he hoped was only rust on them. He quickly shut the drawer.

  "Can we address the elephant in the room?" Parker asked.

  "Uh, sure, what?" Nolan asked. He felt clammy and he couldn't imagine what his down-low boyfriend had to tell him.

  "I don't really like the idea of you being all alone with that fugitive on the loose."

  "What fugitive?" Nolan asked.

  "The serial killer. He escaped from the state prison. Don't you ever watch the news?"

  "I like that closet case weatherman. He's cute-not as cute as you are. Should I worry about a convict on the run while I'm out here on the lake?"

  "I guess not," Parker said, though his voice didn't sound convincing. "The prison's only an hour away."

  "And some maniac on the loose is going to run for days, not hunker down by a populated tourist trap of a lake and slaughter a sexy house-sitting teen-if I do say so myself."

  "That's it, Nolan. The housesitting part. The papers used to call him the Housesitter."

  "Coincidence." A wolf howled somewhere across the lake and Nolan pictured the 1911 axman covering all the mirrors in the house. "Maybe you could get off work early though?"

  "I'll try but I doubt it. Where are you on the lake?"

  "Thirteen Serling Drive. I expect to see you as soon as possible, mister."

  "That would be nice. Hey, I think that's around where the Housesitter killed one of his victims."

  "All the more reason for you to get your cute butt over here," Nolan said. He could practically see Parker's smile plastered across his adorable face. He was so worth disappointing his entire family and risking eternal damnation for.

  "Don't joke about that! He killed, like, twenty people."

  "You're not helping-"

  "Sorry. I'm probably being weird. His MO doesn't even fit. From what I read, he'd sneak inside someone's house and find a room to wait for them in. Like, he'd sit in your bedroom or your bathroom for hours if that's what it took, perfectly still, perfectly dark, perfectly crazy. And then you'd go about your business or whatever and walk into your bedroom, flip on the lights, and he'd be there waiting with his knife ready to grab you and gut you."

  Nolan heard a wicked, animalistic screaming from outside. Shivers bristled down his spine, the hairs standing on end all over his forearms.

  It sounded like a cat dying.

  Not dying. Being murdered.

  Had Macabre snuck out when Amicus left? Had the cat stumbled across a bobcat or fishercat?

  "I gotta go! Come over here as soon as you can! Bye."

  Nolan set the phone on the coffee table and raced toward the kitchen as the screeching sounded again.

  "Macabre?" Nolan asked. "Please don't be murdered outside."

  He grimaced and opened the drawers nearest the front door looking for a flashlight or something to scare off wild animals. One drawer held silverware, the other contained just one item-a smelly old leather-bound book written in an ancient language.

  Nolan tried the hallway closet and found two items hanging from the wooden beam. A light blue T-shirt with CAMP FRESH AIR emblazoned on it and a ratty looking I Heart NY shirt. Nolan inhaled stale beer and piss and almost slammed the door shut, but spotted a hefty flashlight on the shelf above the T-shirts.

  Maybe over the screaming's over. Maybe I don't need to check outside.

  Nolan held his breath and counted to ten. Nothing. Silence. Bliss.

  He exhaled.

  His mother would have told him to call the police like some paranoid creep. His father would tell him animals die all the time and it wasn't his fault. His brothers and sisters would call him a sissy for ignoring the cries.

  The howling outside tore through the house. Nolan steeled himself and unlocked the front door. He turned the flashlight on as he stepped outside. All he could see was the woods illuminated from the kitchen window and the oval beam of light directed from his hand.

  "Macabre? You out here? You hurt?"

  No more screeching. Nolan looked left, looked right. Where had the awful sound come from?

  A branch snapped off to the left. He shined the light in that direction, but all was still.

  Great, a whole week of this crap.

  "Macabre? You there?"

  Nolan left the safety of the front door and headed carefully through the trees.

  "Here kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty. Can't wait for you to meet Parker. We're going to have crazy fun naked time while you're being aloof and ignoring us. Here kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty."

  He crushed leaves and grass as he walked along the edge of the lake through the sprinkling of apple and birch trees. This wasn't even worth five hundred bucks.

  No, it really is. Just get your act together.

  The light flashed across something incredibly bright. It blinded Nolan and he slowly turned the beam back to it.

  A funhouse mirror leaned against a tree. It reflected him in a hundred obscure versions as it was cracked like a spider web.

  That was enough for Nolan. He turned around and hurried back to the lake house. When he reached the front door, he turned the doorknob, but the door wouldn't open.

  His blood ran ice cold. How could he be locked out? He tried the door again and again it wouldn't budge. He must not have flicked the lock all the way. It had to have spun back into place when he closed it behind him.

  He could call-his phone was inside.

  He could drive-his car keys were inside.

  He could-he was screwed.

  Parker was coming over at some point. He could wait it out and hope Macabre wasn't murdered outside the house. At least it wasn't raining or snowing. All he had to do was sit outside a beautiful home by the water and wait for his awesome boyfriend to show up like a knight in shining armor. He could go back to Parker's, log onto his email and get Amicus' number. There was probably a key hidden under some rock or something he could use.

  Nolan checked under the welcome mat but found only a strange stain.

  He rubbed at the small cross dangling around his neck. Another branch broke, this time to the right. He turned the flashlight toward it, but only saw still trees.

  "Macabre? You out there, buddy?"

  The cat was probably inside asleep. Just how he'd prefer to be.

  Come on, Parker. Come on.

  A light flickered inside the lake house.

  Bad bulb or mischievous cat?

  Where would a strange collector hide a key? Had to be someplace strange.

  He surveyed the house and ran his fingers along every nook and cranny he could reach. He picked over rocks to make sure they
weren't hollow hiding spots. He circled around the house painstakingly slowly until he came to the side room by the front door. He shined the light inside and found a room empty except for one bookshelf full of trinkets. Next to it was a framed poster for a Scottish boxing match. Nolan held the flashlight under his armpit and tried the window. Of course it didn't open. That would be too convenient.

  An owl hooted.

  More snapping twigs.

  "Macabre?"

  Only stillness.

  There couldn't be a fugitive fresh out of prison with blood on his mind out there. Just couldn't be. So what if he'd killed someone in the very same neighborhood before being sent away. So what if he might return to wherever he felt comfortable while on the run. So what if he could be out there in the woods with him at that very moment.

  Nolan made it to the back of the house and gazed out at the lake. The still black waters called out to him but he resisted temptation.

  Focus. Find a way inside. Earn your five hundred bucks.

  He slid open the cabana door. A hefty stack of firewood and storage boxes filled with God only knew. Fliers lined one wall. Posters of a missing blonde woman with an English address.

  A bottle of rum rested on one of the boxes. Nolan certainly wouldn't run out of ingredients for Post Nap Funks this week.

  He had to remind himself that this would pass. He'd eventually get back in the house and start the vacation he deserved. He could have Parker's friends over and his brothers and sisters if he was truly lonely. Not at the same time, of course. Maybe even his mother and father could come over for dinner one night. Only one night. Yeah, the week would be cool. Assuming he ever got back inside the house.

  He could throw a rock through a window. There were so many windows to choose from.

  And Amicus Sundown would return and refuse to pay him the five hundred bucks. He'd have every right to make Nolan pay for the damages. Sitting around outside for an hour or two until Parker showed up had to be worth the cash.

  He sat on a lawn chair and lazily flashed the light across the water. He was comfortable, he'd have company soon, nothing to worry about.

  Tiny bubbles burst on the lake surface.

  "Uhhhhh," Nolan grimaced. "If anyone's out there, my boyfriend's a jock. Only JV, but he's got these biceps that, if you're not worshipping, you should be afraid of. Just saying."

  The bubbles stopped bursting. No one answered. Good.

  He'd be inside watching TV snuggled up with Parker soon. All Nolan had to do was relax and be patient.

  Maybe there was a basement he could sneak into. He left the serene dock and stalked around the other side of the house. Of course there was nothing but grass meeting cement. Probably impossible for a basement so close to the water. He returned to the front door. Had the Housesitter used the front door when he snuck inside and butchered his victims?

  You go to sleep in your bed. Your kids are safe and sound tucked into theirs. Next thing you know he's standing over you, ax raised high. He brings it down. What are your last thoughts? You know the kids are next. The house itself practically drips with blood.

  Nolan shuddered. Good thing he'd never have kids. Or he'd turn into some weird hippy and decide at fifty he should bring new life into the world. Would he still be with Parker? God, he hoped so.

  What would his life look like then? His parents gone, probably. His brothers and sisters dealing with him being gay. Would they like Parker? Would they accept him? Would it be some other guy they'd have to let into the family? Or would the wall he'd erected around his personal life grow sturdier and keep all others out?

  Would Parker go to church with them? Would he let himself be loved?

  Worrying about it all gave him palpitations. He needed to chill.

  He felt something scurrying along his neck. He reached out to brush it off but didn't find anything.

  More wailing in the woods.

  No protection.

  He shined the flashlight at the trees.

  Silent sentinels.

  More animal screams.

  How soon until he was screaming?

  Nolan left the supposed safety of the front door and traipsed through the thicket, flashlight wildly swishing back and forth.

  "Macabre, buddy? You out there? Kitty, kitty?"

  The random area between trees slowly grew to resemble a pathway. Nolan stepped onto it as the lake vanished off to his side and the woods swallowed his progression.

  Something thumped behind him. He spun and shined the flashlight along the ground. Nothing out of the ordinary. Another thump off to his side. He turned again, completely disoriented from the house and the lake. He continued on, unsure if he was making it better or worse.

  Something behind off to his left side. The small circular beam of light found a sheet dancing between the trees. Six foot tall and fluttering several feet away.

  And then it took one stilted step closer.

  Was that the shape of a head at the top? Arms at the side? A dark flower pinned at the top?

  The stiff-legged movements brought the sheetbody even closer.

  Nolan screamed and backed up, but he smacked against an apple tree, the branches rustling in his face and hair.

  Was this what happened to the Munroes? A dancing sheetbody beckoned each of them into the barn where it butchered them?

  The pale figure came closer. And closer. The sheet reached out for him.

  Nolan threw his arms in the air, the flashlight casting a wild range of flittering shadows as it darted forward and back.

  The sheet dropped flat to the ground, the petals scattering.

  Nothing moved. It must have been caught on a tree limb and dancing in the breeze.

  Nolan carefully jabbed at the sheet with one foot, but it didn't stir. Of course is didn't. Why should it?

  Nolan exhaled. Amicus had said the night was full of terrors, but so far it had only been full of bed linen. He started walking away when something thumped right behind him. He froze.

  The sheet?

  A bright red apple lay in the center of the sheet. Nolan looked above, but there were only birch trees in the immediate area. He approached the apple and picked it up. It was half rotten and worms and ants snaked their way through it. He threw the apple as far he could. It exploded against a tree.

  He half jogged through the underbrush until he'd left the sheet far behind. When he stopped and caught his breath, he found a squat farmhouse laying right in front of him. There, off by the road, stood a mailbox.

  MUNROE.

  He hadn't passed this farmhouse on his way to Thirteen Serling Drive.

  He just needed to get inside. Safety. He spun around, looked behind him. Why couldn't he be sitting in front of the fireplace waiting for Parker to show up?

  The flashlight dimmed. The batteries wouldn't last forever.

  The farmhouse was locked. Nolan stepped to the side and shined the light in the window. It was dusty inside and a dark, human-sized lump lay in the kitchen floor. The house phone was covered, so were the mirrors.

  Nolan stepped back. Barnyard animals cried out. He aimed the flashlight in that direction.

  A barn loomed off to the side, large and foreboding.

  He heard a creaking sound, like a door slowly opening, but saw no sign of movement.

  Someone's really out here with me.

  Nolan's mouth went dry as his palms grew damp, almost causing the flashlight to slip from his grasp. His eyes were drawn to the barn door. It was wide open, the inside a rectangular black hole. Was the door open before?

  His feet moved on their own.

  Maybe it would be safer in there. The last place anyone would look.

  Nolan's tongue lolled to the side as he found himself absent-mindedly chewing on it, gentle but firm. A grounded motion that told Nolan he was still alive. For now.

  He stepped inside the barn. He didn't dare close the door behind him-the movement or noise could alert whoever was out there with him. Inside the barn, he fo
und horse stalls and a ladder leading to the hayloft. It stank of piss and mildew. The flashlight's beam grew dimmer. Before long, it would only be useful as a club for self-defense.

  A flashlight against an ax.

  Something tickled Nolan's ear. He jumped back and brushed at it. Nothing there.

  Everything would have been fine if he'd just stayed inside the lake house.

  He shined the light into the vaulted rafters and found massive spider webs.

  Maybe a spider dropped on me. Crawling through my hair, inside my ear, laying a sack of eggs.

  He chewed harder on his tongue. Ran his pinky in his ear. Nothing but a little bit of wax.

  Nolan's breath rose in front of his face. It was suddenly freezing in the barn.

  A light flickered by the entrance. Nolan ducked into one of the stalls and shut the flashlight off. He crouched low, caught his breath, and squinted.

  "Clara? You in here? Poppa said no one's allowed out here this late." It was a boy younger than Nolan. He carried a lantern in one hand, the light illuminating his scuffed-up overalls. He walked into the center of the barn and peered into the darkness.

  Clara must have been the boy's sister. Was she the first one lured out here to die?

  "It's getting late and-" The boy's body convulsed and he dropped the lantern. His overalls were torn open, his flesh bursting like ripped seems. He started to scream but his throat opened wide.

  The young farmer's body dropped in a heap. A moment later it was yanked toward the ladder. Nolan forced himself to watch as invisible hands hoisted the fresh corpse into the hayloft.

  Nolan squeezed the small cross dangling around his neck as he heard footsteps in the loft directly overhead. It was his best chance to escape before whatever it was came back down. Came for him.

  He wanted to move. He desperately needed to. But his legs wouldn't budge. The exit was too far away. He noticed the light streaming in through a small opening in the back wall. The broken window was much closer but smaller. He could at least scope it out.

  The footsteps paced back and forth overhead.

  Nolan crawled on all fours through the shit and straw to the narrow window. The glass had been knocked out already but the wooden crossbeam remained. Nolan bore down on his tongue and gripped the wood with both hands. Grunting, he pulled the wood free and set it on the hay. He pulled himself through the open space and fell flat on his stomach on the other side.

  The wind was knocked out of him and he started to panic.

  Something hard pressed into his groin. It sent a tingling sensation though his stomach and knees. He pulled at it and realized it was just the flashlight. He flicked it back on and pushed himself up to his feet.

  When Nolan turned around, there was no barn. In its place were dozens of apple trees.

  There was barely any path caught in the dying flashlight's beam, but Nolan made his way toward the water's edge and walked along the rocky ground toward the lake house.

  He wished he knew how late it was. He felt like he'd been locked out for hours. His feet were sore and his nerves beyond raw. Safety waited for him inside the house. After all, Amicus lived there part time and no axman's ghost had butchered him.

  The flashlight flickered and died. He slammed the end against his palm and produced a faint glow. He hurried through the trees, praying he'd reach the lake house before he was completely out of light.

  His foot caught an apple and he crashed to the ground, his head slamming against something hard.

  "Poppa?"

  "There's something out in the barn."

  "Stay here, Jacob."

  "Let us make this quick."

  "Poppa?"

  "Clara?"

  "Stay here, Jacob."

  "I'll check the barn."

  The voices washed over Nolan like a tidal wave. Tears stung his eyes. His temple burned and his entire body felt heavy. His eyelids fluttered and something warm dribbled from his mouth. He spat the blood out; he must have bitten down hard on his cheek.

  He pushed himself up and scrambled through the trees, dying light shakily aimed just ahead of his feet.

  The light flickered one last time as it died. Nolan emerged out of the thicket and found himself standing in front of the lake house with only the moon to guide him.

  He heard his phone ringing faintly inside the house. Probably Parker. Hey, Nolan, it's getting late and I'm sure you're not locked outside so I'm just going to head home. Later, sucker.

  The ringer went silent.

  His back against the door, Nolan dropped to the ground. He thumped his head against the wood. It wasn't safe out there. Those things were everywhere. Amicus had to have a spare key hidden somewhere.

  It could be in the cabana. In one of those boxes.

  He pushed himself off the door and circled the house. He opened the cabana door, but without a light it would be impossible to search inside. He backed away from the cabana, his legs trembling. He dropped to the deck in a heap, utterly defeated. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Rage flashed through him and Nolan flipped over one of the lawn chairs. He stood up and grabbed the second chair, then threw it into the lake. Something silver caught on the moonlight. Taped underneath the chair bobbing in the water was a key.

  "Yes!" Nolan pumped his fist in the air. He'd done it.

  He approached the edge of the deck and lay on his stomach, reaching out for the chair leg. It was just out of reach. He scooted even further off the deck, straining.

  Little bubbles popped on the water's surface on all sides of the chair. Nolan froze. An apple rose out of the water, then a second and a third. A handful of petals appeared.

  Nolan didn't want to wait to find out what would appear next. He leaned out even further over the water, straining with everything he had left.

  His fingers grazed the chair leg. Just enough to pull it closer. He grabbed the leg and dragged it back to the dock.

  It caught on something. Nolan tugged harder, but the water yanked the chair back. He lost balance, but caught himself before he fell into the water, his face inches from the surface, the ends of his hair wet.

  A dark clump rose next to Nolan's face so close he could make out the texture in the soaking wet cloth. Five covered ridges. A hand.

  Nolan grabbed the chair leg again and pushed off the dock, dragging the chair out of the lake. In a mad dash, he ripped the key off the chair leg and tripped over his own feet running to the front door. He jammed the key in, unlocked the door and slammed it shut behind him.

  Something brushed against his leg. He screamed and threw on the light switch.

  A black cat meowed at his feet.

  "Hi, Macabre. Glad you've been here, sitting pretty this whole time."

  His heartbeat returning to normal, Nolan scratched the cat's chin before he trotted away. He limped to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. He leaned back against the countertop and sipped it.

  Safe at last. No more worries. Thank God.

  His phone rang again. He searched around until he found his cell vibrating from under a hand towel. Weird a cat would cover his phone.

  Nolan read the text from Parker, On the way. Hope you're still not paranoid about the Housesitter killer.

  Nolan shuddered and typed back, Thanks for reminding me. I'd completely forgot about the escaped lunatic. You wouldn't believe-

  He stopped himself and deleted the text. Better not act like a crazy person himself. He sent back a simple Great, c u soon! and set his phone down.

  Everything was finally going his way. No more being locked out. His boyfriend on his way. A whole week to run his own life and be the person he wanted to be. And five hundred bucks for it. Just don't stray too far into the apple trees?

  He finished his water and headed upstairs. He needed to prep the guest bedroom for Parker.

  Mood lighting-maybe candles?

  Some music-soft jazz?

  Sexy fragrance-uh, what?

  Nolan reached the top step and hummed on his way t
o the guest room. He opened the door and switched on the light.

  He knew in that instant that no matter how scared he was of the outside world, it was nothing compared to being locked inside with the maniac sitting in the dark, waiting for him.

  AUTHOR AND EDITOR BIOS