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    They're Coming For You 6: Scary Stories that Scream to be Read
    They're Coming For You 6: Scary Stories that Scream to be Read
    They're Coming For You 6: Scary Stories that Scream to be Read
    Ebook118 pages1 hour

    They're Coming For You 6: Scary Stories that Scream to be Read

    By O. Penn-Coughin

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    About this ebook

    "They're Coming For You 6: Scary Stories that Scream to be Read" is a chilling collection of more than 40 short and shriveled scary stories sure to leave you screaming for more. Or just screaming. This macabre mix of howls, humor, and horror is a must have for anyone who loves to be scared. But take the warning seriously... This book is NOT for wimps!

    Packed with ghosts, ghouls, and a gallery of gruesome and ghastly good-for-nothings, "They're Coming For You 6: Scary Stories that Scream to be Read" brings the evil and delivers the shivers.

    Listen to O. Penn-Coughin read his stories on The Scary Story Podcast

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherYou Come Too Publishing
    Release dateDec 2, 2011
    ISBN9781466009042
    They're Coming For You 6: Scary Stories that Scream to be Read
    Author

    O. Penn-Coughin

    O. Penn-Coughin ("open coffin") is the ghoulishly gifted author of the spine-chilling series WELCOME TO HELL and THEY'RE COMING FOR YOU: SCARY STORIES THAT SCREAM TO BE READ.Listen to his stories on THE SCARY STORY PODCAST.

    Read more from O. Penn Coughin

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      Book preview

      They're Coming For You 6 - O. Penn-Coughin

      Introduction

      As always, these stories are meant to be read out loud. [Instructions are included where necessary—mostly in the form of a good AAAH!]

      Also, as always, most of these tales are very short. Sometimes this is referred to as flash or sudden fiction. In this case, we might call it fright fiction or sudden death fiction.

      And finally, as always, it’s all for fun and it’s all for you.

      Sweet screams!

      O. Penn-Coughin

      The Neighbor

      Their neighbor was kind of strange.

      They had moved in almost six months ago but the skinny old man still got their names wrong.

      Hello, Wendy, he would say to Ruth. Wait, you’re not Wendy.

      Ruth didn’t know who Wendy was.

      Hello, Edward, he would say to Mark. Wait, you’re not Edward."

      Mark didn’t know who Edward was.

      Wendy and Edward, he said one day. I’d like to invite you over for dinner.

      That’s very nice of you, Mark said. But—

      We’d love to, Ruth said.

      Tomorrow night then, the old man said.

      Why did you say yes? Mark said when they were back inside their house.

      Oh, he just looks so lonely, she said. And he seems to have gotten paler and skinnier since we last saw him. Having company might help his appetite.

      All right, Mark said. But there’s something about him that gives me the creeps.

      They brought over a bottle of wine and dessert. Good thing too, because the old man’s idea of dinner was a foul-tasting, watery broth.

      I’ll get dessert, Ruth said after they ate, heading toward the kitchen.

      Good, Mark slurred, slumping in his chair. "I could uze zome."

      Ruth wondered what was wrong with him. He had only had a few sips of the wine. But she felt strangely dizzy too.

      She sliced the apple pie and looked for the ice cream in the large freezer. There were some strange-looking large bones inside.

      No, it can’t be, Ruth thought. That one looks like a human skull.

      I’m afraid that’s what’s left of Wendy and Edward, the old man said, walking in on her. They were my neighbors before you came along. Only good for soup now.

      Why? Ruth said, leaning against the counter.

      Man’s gotta eat, he said. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t accepted by invitation.

      You put something in that broth, she said, sliding down to the floor.

      It’s best that way, he said. I promise you won’t feel a thing.

      She was already sleeping. The old man began to drool. He put on his apron and thick rubber gloves and began working.

      Dead Children’s Hospital

      It hurts, the ghostly child cries. It huuuuurts!

      Do try to be brave, the nurse says. It’s not that bad.

      But it hurts. Wait. What was that?

      That’s not going to work. Close your eyes and count to ten.

      No, really, I think someone else is here.

      You’re right. What do we have here? I think you might have a visitor.

      A visitor! A visitor! I do so love visitors.

      [Now turn to someone and, using an evil nurse voice, say:]

      "Wait, it’s not a visitor, it’s [insert person’s name]. Where have you been? Oh, never mind. You’re back just in time for your shot. I promise it will only hurt… while you’re alive."

      AAAH!

      Johnny Wrote a Monster

      I’m gonna win that contest, John Fontaine said.

      No doubt that’s a sweet prize, Donald said. But there are more than 100 kids in the fourth grade. Way more. Those aren’t good odds.

      I don’t care, John said. I’m gonna write the scariest story and I’m gonna win that prize.

      The new principal had announced earlier that day that each upper grade was having a writing contest. The top story from each class would be read during a special assembly and a group of parents and teachers would vote on first place. First prize was $100.

      The theme was horror, but the story wasn’t supposed to be gory.

      A minimum of blood and no slasher stuff, the principal had said during morning announcements. Points will be deducted for gore. Lots of points.

      There was a loud moan from a lot of the boys in John’s class. But not John. He just wanted to win. If a bloodless story was going to get it done, that was fine by him. Just as long as he won.

      John hurried home and started working on his story.

      He paced around the room, working out the details out loud.

      "Okay, there’s this guy and he turns into a monster. He’s got fire pouring out of his eyes. And he burns up everyone he sees. No. Too violent.

      "Okay, there’s this guy and he can make people’s heads burst like pumpkins on the pavement just by thinking about it. No, too brainy and bloody. Can’t have brain goop flying through the air. That would probably qualify as gore in the judge’s eyes.

      "Focus, John. Okay, there’s a thing that crawls out of a circus tent. It’s a cross between a lion and clown. A Clion. No, too stupid.

      Okay, there’s a spaceship from another world and in this world the people have two heads, one on each knee and up above their necks there’s a piñata. No, no, no.

      He let out a long sigh. This was going nowhere. And then he got an idea. A real idea.

      "Okay, there’s a bloodless ghoul going

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