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    Mr. Salinas's Seven Scary Stories
    Mr. Salinas's Seven Scary Stories
    Mr. Salinas's Seven Scary Stories
    Ebook127 pages1 hour

    Mr. Salinas's Seven Scary Stories

    By Matthew Salinas

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    About this ebook

    "Mr. Salinas's Seven Scary Stories" is the first in an ongoing horror anthology series based in a small town in Midwestern America. This proverbial Nowheresville is the backdrop for seven characters who find their lives in disarray. They are, each in their own way, consumed by loss, suffering, or terror. Set around Halloween and its superstitions, this collection of short stories will immerse the reader in a tale of small town, American horror.

    Each story within this book can be considered the first chapter in the ongoing series Mr. Salinas's Horror Anthology. Seeping with psychological suspense, this is an examination of the inner workings of fear and dread on the human mind.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateNov 25, 2020
    ISBN9781098342517
    Mr. Salinas's Seven Scary Stories

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    • 5/5
      Truly terrifying and a great short book. You can easily read the whole thing in one sit.

    Book preview

    Mr. Salinas's Seven Scary Stories - Matthew Salinas

    All stories are works of fiction originally

    produced and unrelated to any people alive or dead,

    or any events current, past, or future.

    Copyright August 2020©

    ISBN: 978-1-09834-251-7

    Dedication

    In the dimmest light sometimes we find the brightest hope. To Jordana Fink and Suzanne Salinas

    Table of Contents

    Introduction

    Tyler’s Ghost:The Children’s Story

    Quinn’s Quilt: The Coming of Age Story

    The King’s Silver: The Dark Operetta

    The Man with The Green Fingers: The Mourner’s Story

    Echoless:The Author’s Demons

    Twenty Matches to a Box A Quick Refrain:

    Edward’s PaintingThe Charitable Parable:

    Introduction

    Here, in the dimmest corner of my dark abode, I type for you. The low sounds warbling from the antique radio are drowned out by the furious clacking of the keys of my old typewriter, which rests on its spot upon the TV dinner tray. The calluses on my finger pads are worn through to blisters, the fingers burning as they rain down upon these keys. Their reign is now coming to an end, besmirched by the sadistic drudgery of the manifestation of the tome of fears before you. Within this book lies the long, cold night of a child wrapped in bed sheets, praying for daylight to come. Within this book lies, humanity’s rash fear of monsters, which for ages has trickled out of people’s mouths and into the imaginations of every receptive soul daring to listen.

    Seven short stories are what I have the great displeasure of presenting to you. Seven short stories to hammer through or trepidatiously thumb through at off hours of the day. Each story is but a glimpse into the events of an ongoing anthology, a continual progression of the curious exploration into the depths of what causes fear. The feelings of dread created by these stories are as real as those which emerge from forgetting to study for a final exam, forgetting to return a VHS on time (and from being one of the few left who even remembers those days). It is the feeling that comes from standing at the all-too-familiar threshold of a door or a decision you must come to, but just can’t quite cross... not yet. The real and the unknown, the tangible and the metaphysical, both fundamentally different, yet eliciting the same response.

    With this collection, I strive to hopefully provide a little scare, fear, and maybe a tidbit or two of imagination to you. So, without anything further, I present to you part one of a peculiar anthology of horror stories. All based around the timeless traditions of Halloween and the associated spectrum of emotions which we cherish, young and old alike. I bring you now to Nowheresville, USA: an un-extraordinary example of modern, suburban, midwestern America. Please enjoy, and remember: Just because you’ve closed the book, doesn’t mean that the story is over…

    —Matthew PS Salinas

    Tyler’s Ghost

    Tyler’s Ghost:

    The Children’s Story

    Tyler had been genetically predisposed to danger. It was in his blood, his genes. The bet was a bold one, yet here he was- on Halloween’s eve nonetheless- stalking between rows of tombstones, barely old enough to read the epithets, let alone understand them.

    "Dom-dom dum-dum dom-de-de-doo-be,’’ Tyler sang aloud in the moonshine, half led by sight and half by the echolocation of his lyrical recital. The whirling breeze gave a slight sense of mysticism to his quest, the bet, the dare... whatever turn of phrase you could compose to describe a bad idea executed in an even worse fashion. Tyler Morris had no choice at this particular point in time, though. He had forfeit the option of staying safe in his home at 810 West Mapleworth Avenue on this chilly October night...he had given his word. This was a sense of obligation even a young child like himself understood.

    Come and go..., come home…. Dum-dum , Tyler sang in an effort to fulfil his obligation. The whole bet was an eleventh-hour idea, a really desperate proposition. The terms were as follows: Tyler, bravely donning his little lion costume- mane, tail, and all-, had to mosey on over to the local cemetery. Once there, he must walk along singing, his crackling, slightly shrill voice loud enough to be heard even six feet below the dirt.

    Tyler needed a cemetery, and Ludwig’s Cemetery was the oldest one in town. It was, in fact, the only cemetery in town, the care and keeping of which has been passed down from generation to generation of Ludwig men. A legacy of dead hopes and dreams was the treasure bequeathed to next of kin in the Ludwig family, and those lucky enough to inherit it gravely tended to the old, dilapidated landmark with the utmost solemnity. The current owner, one Mr. Ezra Ludwig, was a no-nonsense octogenarian, the presence of whom in the cemetery was said to ward off both children and ghosts alike. For, you see, the ghosts of Ludwig’s Cemetery were said to be as real as the decomposing corpses themselves.

    The older kids at school had all mentioned the ghosts, the urban legends, the extreme measure of the haunting of Mister Ludwig’s cemetery- and how, each night at promptly 11:30 pm when Mr. Ludwig retired for the evening, the graveyard was their domain. In fact, this schoolyard gossip was what had laid the foundation for this whole situation in the first place. Yes, this was the perfect place for Tyler, to carry out the most absurd plot to date in his short and inexperienced life. Singing as long and loud as his little lungs could, he stalked about, anxious to see if any of those aforementioned phantoms would come out for him...if he could only be so lucky.

    A sudden cold crept in behind him, a stark but gradual contrast to the autumnal chill which had settled in the air weeks prior. It was an unearthly cold, trailing in clouds of condensation which lingered in the air along with the dying echoes of Tyler’s ever-present song. Tyler refused to turn around (not once during his trek in the graveyard had he been brave enough to peer over his shoulder in fear of what could be behind him) but for a moment, his singing faltered, and a brief silence fell over the scene. A chill went down Tyler’s spine as he lost his focus, and along with it his sense of obligation. What had he gotten himself into? Why was he even here? Tyler had only just now realized that he was entirely alone and most certainly entirely in over his head. Every sensation he felt betrayed him, every instinct yelled at him to turn around and run as fast as he could, leaving any trace of ghosts to be quickly forgotten in the night’s breezes. The logistics of his inner clockwork now broken, Tyler was immobilized in what he could only now understand as fear.

    The comforting image of home flashed into his mind. Home, with its warm blankets and stuffed animals, a sanctuary for his frightened young mind. He imagined the soothing presence of his mother tucking him in to bed, his toes warm in the footie pajamas which he would never admit to his school friends that he still wore, while the house slept around him: his father snoring with the television remote still clutched in his hand and his sister sound asleep, barely even visible beneath her usual mound of stuffed animals.

    It was this last image, the image of his sister, which snapped his mind back to the reality before him. For it was for her that he was here tonight, and it was for her that he must continue. He renewed his venture through the graveyard with a warily renewed sense of determination. Tyler continued with extra shakey swings of his arms and legs in conjunction with an even shakier voice, but he continued nonetheless, motivated by a frightened sense of duty. Tyler, the brave and foolish lion, here on a dare, all because of his sister. His little sister. The annoying, brash, but ever loving little sibling he had never asked for, who filled his heart with the abundance of emotions known only to big brothers. He permitted himself to roll his eyes in annoyance at the obligations of familial bonds, even as the power of those bonds filled him with the strength to pursue his goal.

    Tyler shook his mane in an effort to clear

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