Tag: horror creature stories

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Would You Like To Try My Writing? Here Is A Piece Of ‘Easy Prey’.


Easy Prey High Res e-book cover

Hello Readers,

For the seventh sample of my work in the 10% Club series of posts, I give you a piece of ‘Easy Prey’, a short horror story about a dead beat looking for trouble. If he keeps on looking, he may just find what he is after. I hope you enjoy this snip of horror.

Easy Prey by Allan Walsh

Deb climbed the cellar stairs and glared across the main room of Shaw’s Bar at the guy hunched over the jukebox.

Mack.

She’d been trying to avoid him all night, just like every other woman in the place.

He dropped a coin into the Wurlitzer, pressed a few buttons and sat back at the bar, swigging his beer. ‘Free Bird’ bloomed out from the jukebox, filling the smoky air with its sullen tone. The top corner of the latest band poster drooped from the weatherboard wall, as if the music weighed heavy on the paper.

“All done?” Judd asked, handing Deb a bar cloth.

“Yep. Next time I’ll show you how to change the barrel,” she said, wiping her hands on the cloth. “It isn’t hard, you’ll pick it up quick enough.”

“I hope so.” Judd flicked his head towards Mack. “Who’s that? One of the regulars?”

“He’s a regular alright. I wish he wasn’t though. He gives me the creeps. Look at him, sitting there with a week’s worth of stubble, greasy hair and backyard tats all up his arms.”

“You shouldn’t judge him on appearances. Maybe he’s not a bad guy,” Judd said.

If you enjoyed this sample of my writing, please share it with your friends.

Allan Walsh writes Fantasy and Horror. If you’re looking for something new to read in these genres, why not check out his books here. You can also find his titles available in some libraries. 

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Would You Like To Try My Writing? Here Is A Splatter Of ‘Darkness In Shadows’.


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Hello Readers,

The sixth instalment from the 10% Club, a series of posts sharing samples of my work. This is an excerpt from the second short story I published, titled ‘Darkness in Shadows’. I hope you enjoy this little morsel of fiction.

Darkness in Shadows

by Allan Walsh

 

Moscow, 10.00 am, March 25th, 1986.

Kochenkov brushed his tunic smooth as he waited outside the rust covered door. He stared at the cracks in the grey concrete walls and wondered how much of a blast the old bunker would take if there was an attack. The handle of the door clunked and he straightened as it creaked open. “Colonel Gorev is waiting for you, Captain,” said a young blond soldier, saluting before he exited. Kochenkov removed his flat cap, pushed it up under his arm and stepped through the doorway. “Ah, Captain Kochenkov, what news do you bring for me today?” said the fat man behind the metal desk. He was trying to light his black and gold Sobranie. The smell of lighter fuel and ground flint wafted from his Zippo, filling the dimly lit room, as he repeatedly tried to strike a flame. “Such good machinery in these American Zippo, I just don’t have the knack to use them,” the colonel said, as he clacked the lid shut and threw the lighter on the desk. Kochenkov picked up the lighter and shook it. With a flick of his wrist, the top clicked open and he spun the flint-wheel against the palm of his other hand. A small ball of flame burst up and settled into a flickering cone of blue and white. The three gold stars on Gorev’s shoulder glistened as he leant forward and put his cigarette to the flame. He sucked a breath through the golden filter and puffed out a cloud of smoke, then started flicking through documents on his desk. “Well Captain, what have you heard?” “Colonel, our spies report the Americans have completed their new weapon.” The colonel’s cigarette drooped from his lips and he looked up at Kochenkov. “And … does it work, comrade?” “We’re not sure Colonel, they’re still running tests, but our contact says the initial results show a high probability.” “I’m going to need a copy of their plans, Captain.” “Yes Colonel, I will arrange it.”

#

Nevada, 12.15pm March 30th, 1986.

Corporal Jackson stood looking around the lab, running his fingers across the stubble on his head. He could see the corrugated roof of the huge, converted hangar, looming above. He had counted at least twenty doors on his way to room 13b and wondered just how many rooms there could be under this one shelter. “You there, what’s your name?” “Corporal John Jackson, Ma’am.” “Well Corporal Jackson, the damn batteries keep dying on this thing, give me a hand to move it,” Dr Norris said as she pushed a hunk of metal towards the centre of the lab. “Yes Ma’am,” the corporal replied as he placed his hands on top of the contraption and pushed. It gleamed in shiny chrome; its two antennae stuck out at symmetrical angles, facing forwards, and loops of wires coiled beneath the long cellular panels that stuck out to the rear. It looked like a large mechanical insect. “What is this thing anyway?”

If you enjoyed this sample of my writing, please share it with your friends.

Allan Walsh writes Fantasy and Horror. If you’re looking for something new to read in these genres, why not check out his books here. You can also find his titles available in some libraries. 

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Would You Like To Try My Writing? Here Is A Flash Of ‘Making Magic’.

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Hello Readers,

The fifth sample from the 10% Club is an excerpt from ‘Making Magic’, a short fantasy/horror story with a touch of humour. I hope you enjoy reading this spellbinding fantasy/horror.

Making Magic by Allan Walsh
Alcus stared at a note pinned to the notice board. The corners were furled, itching to roll shut, but the words sparkled, as if calling to him.

‘Do you create your own worlds? Bring characters to life? Create magic you want to be seen? If the answer is yes, this may be the group for you.’

This could be it. The writers’ group I’ve been looking for. But what if they don’t like my work? What if they laugh at me? I can’t spend my whole life wondering. I’ve got to grow a spine, face my fears and get it done.

He grabbed his note pad from his pocket and scribbled the address inside.

The days passed, Alcus counting them down, the way he used to at Christmas when he was a kid. That same feeling of excitement fluttering in his stomach just like it used to. When there were no more days to count, he found his way to the address in his note book. He looked down at the writing on the page.

Room 1
The Old Library,
21 Orion Way,
Forest Hill.

Then peered up at the building before him. Lichen crusted rocks loomed up above the entrance, as if their weight smothered and squeezed the tiny door into the wall. Alcus felt goosebumps creep up his neck.

This is silly, I shouldn’t be here… But If I don’t go in, how am I going to know if my work is any good?

He grabbed the iron ring on the door, tugged it open and ducked inside. The doorway opened up into a large entrance hall. Alcus strode past a wooden sign pointing to a room with an iron-studded door at the end of the hall. He paced back and forth outside the door, stopped and rubbed at his chin.

Just go in Al, try it out. If you make a fool of yourself, just don’t come back, he reasoned.

If you enjoyed this sample of my writing, please share it with your friends.

Allan Walsh writes Fantasy and Horror. If you’re looking for something new to read in these genres, why not check out his books here. You can also find his titles available in some libraries. 

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Would You Like To Try My Writing? Here Is A Peek At ‘Low Life’.

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Hello Readers,

As an author, I understand it can be hard picking up a book by a writer you haven’t read before. But, because I’d love for you to give my writing a fair go, I created a series of posts that I like to call ‘The 10% Club’. This is the forth instalment presenting a snippet from the first story I published. Here is a taste of ‘Low Life’.

Low Life

by Allan Walsh

Callum sat trembling, on the end of a brown-tainted mattress. He was pale as a corpse. Deep shadows cast themselves across his drawn face as he fixed his eyes on the door of his dingy apartment. The room was illuminated only by the red neon light that flickered beyond the smoke-marred windows. He no longer noticed the walls with their torn and piss-stained, floral wall paper. His nostrils had grown accustomed to the scent of urine that lingered in the air. When he was alive it would have disgusted him. Zhu Li’s face filled his mind, her lips lifting softly at the edges as she smiled. Tears welled up as he remembered. She was the reason he’d moved to Chinatown. She’d tried to tell him the tales passed down from her parents, but he hadn’t believed the myths. Now he’d seen too much to ignore them. She’d tried to tell him, but he’d disregarded her warning. Now her mangled body lay lifeless in the corner of the room. Come on Callum, you can’t just sit here all fuckin’ night watching the door. They’ll come for you eventually and they’ll find you if you stay here. “Aaaaarrrghhhh,” a deep voice bellowed outside from the streets below. Callum jumped to his feet and ran for the door, almost pulling it from its frame as he flung it open. In his haste he stumbled into the hallway beyond, throwing his hand out against the grotty wall to catch his balance. The warmth from the scarred brickwork penetrated his cold hand before he tore off down the corridor. The fire door at the end of the hall yielded to his foot like bricks to a sledgehammer. He looked down the concrete stairwell. A blast of heat hit him squarely in the face, driving his head back. Shit, that leaves the roof. Callum spun around and scrambled up to the top level, almost falling through the shattered door as he exited. He slid to a halt, looking out upon the blackened sky, his stomach churning. It was like a war zone. Crumbling buildings scattered across the skyline, lit by the orange glow of fire. Plumes of dark smoke wafted up haphazardly in an anarchic display, so thick and black in places that they looked like great pillars holding up the sky. A strange feeling of déjà vu sent chills down his spine – he’d been here before. The smell of sulphur burnt his nostrils as he watched flakes of ash and smouldering embers float softly down around him. This can’t be happening again, this nightmare has got to end! “Oi, what the hell are you doing up here? You’re not meant to be on this level,” a voice growled. Callum’s head snapped to the side and his wide-eyed gaze froze upon an old man in red overalls.

If you enjoyed this sample of my writing, please share it with your friends.

Allan Walsh writes Fantasy and Horror. If you’re looking for something new to read in these genres, why not check out his books here. You can also find his titles available in some libraries.