Endres / Stahl / Voss Psycho Thrill - A Collection of Chilling Tales
1. Auflage 2015
ISBN: 978-3-7325-0390-2
Verlag: Bastei Lübbe
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection
Compilation
E-Book, Englisch, 450 Seiten
Reihe: Psycho Thrill: Chilling Tales of Horror
ISBN: 978-3-7325-0390-2
Verlag: Bastei Lübbe
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection
-- PSYCHO THRILL is a series of horror novellas - from classic ghost story to psychological thriller and dark fantasy. This edition is a compilation of five haunting novellas.
-- Christian Endres, The Beast Within:
Jackson Ellis is a bouncer in Seattle. But deep within, he fosters a hideous beast. No one can know about the curse he carries, though some have discovered his dark secret. And they have the means to break him. Their goal is to destroy Jackson Ellis, as well as the beast within. The torture doesn't go as planned. So what does revenge look like, when all that is left is rage?
-- Vincent Voss, Girl in the Well:
Sabine und Robert think they've won the jackpot, when they buy the old Kreuziger Farmhouse at a reduced rate. But then strange things start to happen: Who is this Marie, with whom only their young son can communicate? Why are there swarms of flies buzzing about? Whose footsteps does Sabine hear at night in the attic? In desperation, Sabine contacts the 'Witch Archive,' a special department at the Ethnological Institute in Hamburg, specializing in the supernatural. But it's too late. The evil has found its target, and it is closing in for the kill ...
-- Michael Marcus Thurner, Suffer, my Sweet:
Throughout high school, Evelyn professed her love for Marco, but he wanted nothing to do with the girl everyone despised. Her hobbies were just too weird. She collected all sorts of strange things, like insects, carefully pinning them to cardboard, or capturing them in glass jars for display. As a result Evi was the laughing stock of her class. Twenty years, later, however, Evelyn seduces Marco at the high school reunion, and they begin a sultry affair. Marco isn't sure if it's love, but he doesn't care: the sex is the best he's ever had. But Evi, she's sure it's something. Because if there is one thing she loves more than anything, it's her precious collection.
-- Robert C. Marley, Tell-Tale Twins:
Bruised and battered, Edgar Allen Poe awakens in a basement dungeon. There, he meets a mysterious man who looks like an older version of himself. Within a week, Poe will attend his own funeral as a spectator, but that's not the most horrific encounter he'll have with a twisted fate. The clock is ticking, and his life is on the line ... again.
-- Timothy Stahl, Unholy Night:
After a horrible accident, Adrian watches as his pregnant wife, Marie, clinically dies for several minutes. By some miracle Marie regains consciousness and finds that the unborn baby is also unharmed. But something in Marie has changed. She's cold and animalistic. Something evil has taken control. Then suddenly Marie disappears. Desperate to find his wife, Adrian tracks Marie down to her childhood home only to discover that her idyllic hometown carries an ancient, dark secret ...
-- Each novella was first published in German and has now been published for the first time in English. Among the writers are popular German authors, as well as newcomers to the scene. Each story is self-contained. PSYCHO THRILL is produced by Uwe Voehl.
-- For fans of Stephen King: Dark Tower series, Neil Gaiman: Fragile Things, and the American Horror Story TV series.
Weitere Infos & Material
2
The first thing I feel is the heavy handcuffs. The cold of the steel that cuts into my wrists. The chains that lead from the handcuffs to the steel wall behind me don’t leave me much room and quietly rattle whenever I move. I’m also as naked as I was when Sierra’s taser hit me with its fuses. The darkness around me doesn’t provide any clues on where I am. It smells strongly of disinfectant, which irritates my sense of smell. Which brings my attention to the wolf’s silence. To be precise, the beast isn’t even rumbling a bit. He seems further away than usual. So far away that I can’t get him to test the durability of the handcuffs and chains. I pause. Listen to myself. No wolf. Not even a sleepy growl, the stupid beast. The absence of the beast makes me worry far more than the handcuffs and chains. Scared shitless, to be honest. Since my time among the hobos, I’ve always been able to, at least in some way, rely on the wolf saving my ass when push comes to shove. We don’t like each other. But we’ve always looked out for one another. Until today. What the hell is going on here? * I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting in the dark and looking for the wolf in vain. I spent so many days wishing he wasn’t there and now that he’s gone, I sorely miss him. Suddenly, the door across from me opens. I squint against the glaring artificial light that enters my cell and reflects off the steel walls. Eventually, my eyes adjust to the brightness and I recognize a slender, curvy silhouette in the illuminated rectangle. “Sierra,” I say in a hoarse voice. “Hello, Jackson,” she says and enters the room Her entire demeanor has changed. This is her turf, I realize. And I am her prisoner. The chains rattle quietly as I change my position and lean my head against the cool metal wall. “Bondage?” I ask and force out a contemptuous smirk. “Really?” “Oh, you know the good stuff never goes out of fashion,” Sierra says and flips the switch near the door, turning on the neon lights along the ceiling of my prison. I close my eyes. I grimace. Wait for the sting to wear off. Then, the first thing I look at is Sierra’s new outfit. She’s wearing a black top and dark, tight jeans. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail. She missed a few strands, which hang along the side of her face. Could, of course, be intentional. Looks good. Otherwise, there’s not much to see, regardless of the light. All the other walls, the ceiling, and the floor are also made of metal. “What’s going on here?” I ask as coolly as possible, even though my balls are retracting out of fear. But honestly… What is she? A serial killer? And would that make this fate or irony? Sierra doesn’t answer my question. Instead she says: “How’s our little wolfie?” That hits hard. I stay silently confused. Sierra smiles with satisfaction. She comes closer, squats in front of me, and tenderly strokes my stubbled cheek. I stare at her speechlessly. She knows about the wolf. Still more. She’s not afraid of me. Which can only mean one thing. She knows that he won’t come to help me because she’s the one who, somehow, sedated him. Sierra looks at me with amusement as I frantically scan my arms. The chains rattle with my movements. I barely acknowledge it. There. Puncture holes. Damn it. My head jerks back in Sierra’s direction. She pats my cheek one last time, stands up, and turns her good-looking backside toward me. “I have to pee,” I say to her lovely behind before she quite reaches the door. Unfortunately, it doesn’t put her off her stride. She goes out and returns with a bucket. Puts it in front of me on the metal floor. I stare at the yellow plastic bucket. First, I want to ask her if she’s serious. Then I think of something better. “Hey,” I exclaim and she actually turns halfway around to me. Point for me. “Hold it for me? For old time’s sake?” Of course, no answer. Not even an icy smile. She hovers just outside of the room. Before she goes, Sierra turns out the light. Point for her. I stew in the gloom between the plastic bucket and the steel wall. “The hell with it,” I mumble at some point and try to find the best position despite the chains. * The door opens and I boldly kick at the bucket. It lurches forward. It topples over mid-flight and a gush of piss welcomes the visitor. Unfortunately, it’s not Sierra. The baldness and the Stanley Cup winner’s build clearly suggest otherwise. The bareheaded hulk that turned on the light contemplates the mess around his feet. Keeps a straight face. Doesn’t even crack his knuckles or anything. He just strides leisurely through the yellow pool. Directly toward me. He maintains his stony expression. “Wasn’t on purpose, man,” I say, grinning dumbly at him. He towers silently over me — and throws a hard punch at me with one of his huge paws. I take four or five more hammer blows until I collapse on the metal floor, the chains clanking with me. Blood drips from my lips and runs down my chin. The wolf stirs briefly, but it seems the drugs are still more powerful than the beast. I’m surprised that I didn’t spit out any teeth. But still pretty wrecked. Only vaguely realize how there are strong fingers forcefully grabbing my wrist. How a needle is being rammed into my arm. My veins seem to burst. I get dizzy. The giant disappears again. Takes the light with him. Blood runs down my chin. My sight is blurred. The darkness starts to spin. “The bucket is gone, kid,” Dead Crow remarks unhelpfully. I want to answer him, but am too far gone. * No idea how much time has passed since the bald giant sent me to dreamland. And on top of that, no idea where I am at this point. Apparently they’ve brought me somewhere else. The space here is notably larger, judging by the draft. I’m connected to chains again, which seem to be mounted somewhere on the ceiling and don’t allow for much movement. Sturdy, like steel cables. Just the handcuffs are a bit looser. My outstretched arms and legs ache. Just like my back. Can just touch the floor with my toes. I’m flanked by two thick stone pillars. But don’t really have much appreciation for the architecture. My head is pounding. I’m still dizzy. The spotlight pointed at me is glaring and bothers me more than it helps. Surprised, I realize that the wolf is back. Still rather distant. But he is approaching rapidly. And he’s wilder than I’ve ever witnessed. I feverishly consider what this means. This sudden change of course. First, almost completely gone. Now, wilder and stronger than ever. Shit, what have they injected me with this time? And more importantly: What do they want to achieve with this? The beast starts to roar loudly in my head. I roar, too. Throw myself desperately back and forth on the chains. I want to fight off the wolf just to keep the person doing this to me from getting what he wants. But it’s clear that I will lose the battle. My tormentors see it that way, too, since there is a jerk on the chains that pulls me upwards a bit. I start to struggle. Scream like crazy. And whoever is stupid enough to want the wolf… Gets him. * Eyes that can see in the black of night, piercing through the darkness. He sees the people lined up in a semicircle around him like a pack gliding over a clearing. His urge to tear them to pieces is overwhelming, but he can’t break out of the chains, even with his best efforts. He growls with frustration and snaps in vain at the slender figure gracefully approaching him in her billowy robe. He knows immediately that she is it. Smells it. Feels it. Knows it. He snaps at her again, but the chains still hold and his jaws loudly but futilely slam shut again. Her face is under a hood and hidden behind a flat, metal mask that resembles a stylized wolf’s head. She can’t deceive him. He can smell her greed, as she raises the whip in her gloved right hand and pelts him with it playfully across the chest. The game quickly gets bloody. The other men and women in their robes and masks come closer with each whip. They are mesmerized as they follow the spectacle in the beam of light between the pillars of their temple, seemingly symbolic of the pillars of their faith. The whip cracks over and over again, leaving stinging welts behind. He smells his own blood along with the sweat under the woman’s mask and robe. He snaps furiously at the whip, which she uses again to hit him over the snout. Her strikes make him seethe with anger. He howls so loudly, that the people jump back in the darkness...
