Read Online Gutted: Beautiful Horror Stories by Clive Barker, Neil Gaiman, Ramsey Campbell, Paul Tremblay, Mercedes M. Yardley, Richard Thomas, Damien Angelica Walters, Kevin Lucia - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Clive Barker, Neil Gaiman, Ramsey Campbell, Paul Tremblay, Mercedes M. Yardley, Richard Thomas, Damien Angelica Walters, Kevin Lucia
Ads: Link
kicked in fast , I barely feel anything.
She’s pretty tiny, Kyle said, and Hannah wanted to tell him, No I’m not, I’m five foot eight in heels, I’m nearly as tall as Nick—
She flushed; her forearms and cheeks and the small of her back prickled with sweat.
Mason said, Who the fuck is Nick?
Kyle—his voice odd, full of wonder—said Oh my god . Over the church.
Hannah heard them first: several pops, like gunshots, and then a crackle and sizzle—and then streams of light and smoke coming down from the sky overhead, and the boy in the stroller in front of her laughed and clapped and laughed. She might have too, except for the hand at the small of her back. His hand.
Dude, he said, what’s wrong with you?
Wow, Beth said. Wow. What’s happening here?
Hannah walked past the church, onto the street, away from Mason. Down the road, between the branches of the trees that separated one cul-de-sac from the next, Hannah saw flickering lights, golden, like flames.
The woman was walking along the sidewalk, away from her, toward the flames, pushing a stroller.
Hannah followed.
***
Then she was on the old residential streets, lined by black, grasping trees; the asphalt was shattered, sometimes upheaved into jags, elsewhere collapsed into pits and craters caked with dried mud. Her feet were numb; she had to be careful. Her whole body felt jerky, malfunctioning, like a puppet’s.
Where are you going? Mason called, behind her.
Behind them, a pop, a sizzle. The asphalt glowed a dark red, then a shuddery blue. Her shadow stretched out, wheeled, as the fireworks soared and then dropped.
The woman was walking in stride with her now along the sidewalk, in sudden, warm sunshine, smiling oddly, curiously at her; she was wearing a blue dress with a wide skirt and white flat shoes. She was Hannah’s age, or not much older—so young, and so beautiful; Hannah liked the way her dark hair curled around her ears, liked her broad hat and the smile on her face, which was soft, trusting, and Hannah felt the urge to tell her, Don’t trust anyone, before it’s too late, and before she could say this the woman stopped, and her face changed.
Jesus, Hannah, Mason said. He grabbed her wrist, the one he’d bruised. He was breathing hard.
I saw a woman.
No you didn’t—
But then he sounded doubtful.
A shape flew low overhead, big and heavy, and settled on a nearby branch. It let out a soft hoo.
The night was dark again, and colorful. Hannah turned to look behind them, and the fireworks were stuck in the sky, tendrils of light and smoke dropping in permanent, sparkling ropes behind the spire of the church. She heard laughter, applause. She heard a harsh, flat pop. Then another.
She smelled smoke, drifting low and insidious between the tree trunks.
Behind them, Beth let out a whoop, and Kyle laughed. This is amazing!
We shouldn’t be alone back here, Mason said.
Why? she asked him. She felt light, serene. What are you afraid of?
God! I’m not afraid of—
The woman was up ahead, crossing the street; she was pushing her stroller.
She pulled away from Nick’s grasp, and ran to catch up, even though this would make Nick angry, but what could she do? Everything made Nick angry. She heard him behind her, his heavy footfalls, a curse as he stumbled in the dark.
Then she was in the center of a cul-de-sac, ringed by four squat two-story bungalows. The woman was standing on the walk in front of the rightmost house, in dappled sunshine. She was wearing a different dress, white with yellow flowers and a big bell of a skirt, and next to her was Mason—no, not Mason; the man’s cheeks and eyes and beard were like Mason’s, but he had blond hair. He was wearing jeans and boots and a flannel shirt and his arm was around the woman’s shoulders. She was pregnant, Hannah saw, her stomach a taut ball. In the woman’s eyes were the reflections of fireworks, and then it was night again and lights were on through the windows of the
She’s pretty tiny, Kyle said, and Hannah wanted to tell him, No I’m not, I’m five foot eight in heels, I’m nearly as tall as Nick—
She flushed; her forearms and cheeks and the small of her back prickled with sweat.
Mason said, Who the fuck is Nick?
Kyle—his voice odd, full of wonder—said Oh my god . Over the church.
Hannah heard them first: several pops, like gunshots, and then a crackle and sizzle—and then streams of light and smoke coming down from the sky overhead, and the boy in the stroller in front of her laughed and clapped and laughed. She might have too, except for the hand at the small of her back. His hand.
Dude, he said, what’s wrong with you?
Wow, Beth said. Wow. What’s happening here?
Hannah walked past the church, onto the street, away from Mason. Down the road, between the branches of the trees that separated one cul-de-sac from the next, Hannah saw flickering lights, golden, like flames.
The woman was walking along the sidewalk, away from her, toward the flames, pushing a stroller.
Hannah followed.
***
Then she was on the old residential streets, lined by black, grasping trees; the asphalt was shattered, sometimes upheaved into jags, elsewhere collapsed into pits and craters caked with dried mud. Her feet were numb; she had to be careful. Her whole body felt jerky, malfunctioning, like a puppet’s.
Where are you going? Mason called, behind her.
Behind them, a pop, a sizzle. The asphalt glowed a dark red, then a shuddery blue. Her shadow stretched out, wheeled, as the fireworks soared and then dropped.
The woman was walking in stride with her now along the sidewalk, in sudden, warm sunshine, smiling oddly, curiously at her; she was wearing a blue dress with a wide skirt and white flat shoes. She was Hannah’s age, or not much older—so young, and so beautiful; Hannah liked the way her dark hair curled around her ears, liked her broad hat and the smile on her face, which was soft, trusting, and Hannah felt the urge to tell her, Don’t trust anyone, before it’s too late, and before she could say this the woman stopped, and her face changed.
Jesus, Hannah, Mason said. He grabbed her wrist, the one he’d bruised. He was breathing hard.
I saw a woman.
No you didn’t—
But then he sounded doubtful.
A shape flew low overhead, big and heavy, and settled on a nearby branch. It let out a soft hoo.
The night was dark again, and colorful. Hannah turned to look behind them, and the fireworks were stuck in the sky, tendrils of light and smoke dropping in permanent, sparkling ropes behind the spire of the church. She heard laughter, applause. She heard a harsh, flat pop. Then another.
She smelled smoke, drifting low and insidious between the tree trunks.
Behind them, Beth let out a whoop, and Kyle laughed. This is amazing!
We shouldn’t be alone back here, Mason said.
Why? she asked him. She felt light, serene. What are you afraid of?
God! I’m not afraid of—
The woman was up ahead, crossing the street; she was pushing her stroller.
She pulled away from Nick’s grasp, and ran to catch up, even though this would make Nick angry, but what could she do? Everything made Nick angry. She heard him behind her, his heavy footfalls, a curse as he stumbled in the dark.
Then she was in the center of a cul-de-sac, ringed by four squat two-story bungalows. The woman was standing on the walk in front of the rightmost house, in dappled sunshine. She was wearing a different dress, white with yellow flowers and a big bell of a skirt, and next to her was Mason—no, not Mason; the man’s cheeks and eyes and beard were like Mason’s, but he had blond hair. He was wearing jeans and boots and a flannel shirt and his arm was around the woman’s shoulders. She was pregnant, Hannah saw, her stomach a taut ball. In the woman’s eyes were the reflections of fireworks, and then it was night again and lights were on through the windows of the
Similar Books
