The Gentleman has an interest in the paranormal, the unexplained and the bizarre. He uses his influence and power to investigate strange events and collect evidence. His collection is comprised of this evidence, as well as files and reports of the events.
My job is to build files, take deliveries and keep the place free from dust and mold.
Building files involves taking all the information and evidence the Gentleman has delivered to my door, and collating and annotating it to tell the story of what happened. Sometimes, when the Gentleman has got enough evidence, I can tell an entire story.
Two months ago, I took deliveries for an event we’re calling Firefly. It’s a very detailed case, and there’s enough evidence of a threat to warrant people being warned. This is a copy of the complete Archive report.
It all started when seven-year-old Simon Thompson vanished.
Forget the bends… Shadows Beneath the Surface is the second entry in the Dead Seas series from Dead Sea Press and brings us crashing to the top of the ocean for more aquatic and nautical horror from fifteen new and incredible talents.
A screening of Jaws is more immersive than advertised – and far more dangerous. A new discovery promises pain to any who stumble across it. And a washed-up abomination really should have been left out to dry…
From ghost ships to monstrous ferry crossings, from eerie islands to creepy caves, this collection proves that not all of the ocean’s beasts lie beneath the waves.
All this and more in a monstrous collection of stories from T.L. Beeding, Chris Williams, Christopher Saylor, David R. Polsdorfer, Gregg V. Landry, Malina Douglas, Matt Bliss, Stephanie Kvellestad, Karen Lethlean, Nancy Schumann, Jay Sykes, Katie Marie, Rachel Nussbaum, Lisa Fox, and Shannon Frost Greenstein.
Don’t forget: every penny of profit goes right to The Shark Trust, an organisation promoting the conservation and protection of sharks, skates and rays. Your support is hugely appreciated.
I was trying to hide the fact that I had been crying and was on the verge of starting again.
The policeman in front of me was watching me steadily, staring right at me but remaining silent. I looked down at the table and rubbed my arms. The air conditioner above me was blasting cold air right down the back of my shirt. The tarnished metal door to the interview room opened and a second policeman came in slowly, looking at the papers in his hand. He sat next to his partner and looked up at me.
“So, Thomas, do you want to tell us where you were last Thursday?” he said.
“I already told you.” I muttered. “I was at home. You came to my house to tell me that Max was…,” my voice caught, and I had to stop talking.
“Ah, yes,” the policeman said, looking at the papers. “Ok. then, what were you doing at home?”
“Revising, I’ve got exams in a few weeks,” I said.
“All night?” the other policeman said. “Exams aren’t until next month, seems odd for someone to be revising so hard already.”
“I want to pass,” I said, still looking down. The policeman grunted but said nothing else.
“All right, tell me then, if you were at home revising how was your car involved in an accident?” the second policeman said. “An accident that killed three people and put two others in a hospital?”
“I already told you, I lent my car to Max,” I said.
“It’s very trusting of you to lend your car out,” the policeman said.
“I did it a lot, Max was on the insurance,” I said. “He always borrowed it, he was a good driver.”
The wall of heat hit me hard as I opened the door to the department store and stepped inside. I kept moving forwards, stepping under the fan that pumped heat into the doorway.
“Oh, I’m sorry sir, we’re not officially open yet,” the girl who came towards me looked about my age, an older teen, or maybe in her early twenties. She looked flustered as she tried to shoo me back out the door.
“Hey,” I smiled, “Um … I’m looking for Mr Williamson.”
“That’s fine, but you must wait until we open,” she said.
“No, you don’t understand, I’m his new assistant, I’m Oliver,” I reached into my pocket to pull out my phone intending to show her the text messages. “I was told to come here this morning.”
“Where’s your store identification?” she asked.
“I’m new, no one’s given me anything yet,” I said as she stepped forward, trying to back me out the door.
“Anna stop tormenting my new dogsbody.” Mr Williamson said approaching behind the girl, Anna, who lost her rigid posture and relaxed. She grinned at me.
“Got you, newbie,” she snorted a giggle. I rolled my eyes.
“You got me,” I said. “Hilarious.” She turned to look at Mr Williamson.
“Aww, Jack your new one’s not got as much spine as the last one, he will not be much fun.”
“Hey, Oliver’s got plenty of spine. Just maybe he didn’t want to mouth off the minute he walked through the door on his first day.” Mr Williamson came over and smiled at me. I offered him a smile back and tried to quell the nerves in my gut. Mr Williamson was my best friend’s dad. I’d been around him plenty over the years, but it still felt strange to be working for him. “Come on,” he said gesturing me to follow him. “I hate the perfume section, the damn place stinks.” He turned and headed off at a brisk pace.
I followed, jogging at first to keep up. We walked up the escalator which hadn’t been turned on yet, Mr Williamson lead me over to the photography section where his little studio was.
In the spirit of Halloween, I wanted to share a short story. I originally write this longer ago than I would like to admit, and it was published in Danse Macabre.
“What awful racket is this?” I asked, raising my voice over the stereo.
“It’s Howling Moon’s latest song, James gave me a copy,” Holly shouted back at me.
“You know Holly, just because James’ band sings a song doesn’t mean we all want to hear it,” Amy leaned forward from the back seat and turned the volume down.
“Thank you,” I said.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Holly muttered. “I liked it.”
“Don’t sulk,” Amy said. “After the fuss you made about Lucy being extra careful with James’ van you probably shouldn’t deafen her. It might effect her driving.”
“Between that noise and this rain it’s not the best driving conditions,” I said keeping my eyes on the road. It had started raining when we left the city, a light patter that had rapidly evolved into a torrent. The wind had picked up, steadily pushing us to the left. The van felt oversized and clumsy.