Alphabet Soup: Horror Stories for the Tormented Soul (Haunted Library)
by Tobias Wade and Mr. Michael Squid
Thriller, horror, and suspense short stories. Multiple Award-Winning authors. A is for Addiction...
B is for Barnacles...
C is for Clairvoyance...Discover the rest of these original horror stories from around the world. Each author chose a letter of the alphabet and was given complete artistic freedom to make something horrible happen. Some stories will be mysterious, others creepy or even profound, but all are crafted to thrill and terrify you to the last page. This is what happens when dozens of uncensored creative people are allowed to mine the depths of the human psyche for the most depraved, twisted, horrible things imaginable. Special edition with intricate full-page illustrations bring the stories to life! Excerpt:
What it really meant was she was rotting away in a cage of her own flesh. The weight of her own body had crushed the flesh on her backside so that it had stopped circulating blood, had started to die. It meant that, after only twenty-six days of freedom, I had to go home and take care of her again. I came back to a familiar smell of piss and sweat and mold; but that was all mixed with a new taint, the sour and yet sickeningly-sweet smell of rotting flesh. She wasn’t in her usual chair. Instead, I found her collapsed on a mattress in a bedroom she hadn’t used for as long as I could remember, the springs creaking under her weight. She was dressed in a simple blue shirt, almost like a hospital gown, and lifting up the bottom edge, my eyes came level to where she was rotting.
- N is for Necrosis
B is for Barnacles...
C is for Clairvoyance...Discover the rest of these original horror stories from around the world. Each author chose a letter of the alphabet and was given complete artistic freedom to make something horrible happen. Some stories will be mysterious, others creepy or even profound, but all are crafted to thrill and terrify you to the last page. This is what happens when dozens of uncensored creative people are allowed to mine the depths of the human psyche for the most depraved, twisted, horrible things imaginable. Special edition with intricate full-page illustrations bring the stories to life! Excerpt:
What it really meant was she was rotting away in a cage of her own flesh. The weight of her own body had crushed the flesh on her backside so that it had stopped circulating blood, had started to die. It meant that, after only twenty-six days of freedom, I had to go home and take care of her again. I came back to a familiar smell of piss and sweat and mold; but that was all mixed with a new taint, the sour and yet sickeningly-sweet smell of rotting flesh. She wasn’t in her usual chair. Instead, I found her collapsed on a mattress in a bedroom she hadn’t used for as long as I could remember, the springs creaking under her weight. She was dressed in a simple blue shirt, almost like a hospital gown, and lifting up the bottom edge, my eyes came level to where she was rotting.
- N is for Necrosis
