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    13 Lovely Frights for Lonely Nights
    13 Lovely Frights for Lonely Nights
    13 Lovely Frights for Lonely Nights
    Ebook123 pages1 hour

    13 Lovely Frights for Lonely Nights

    By Blythe Ayne

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    About this ebook

    Macabre, weird, haunting, disturbing, lingering ... dark, mystical tales are waiting for you in 13 Lovely Frights for Lonely Nights.

    You'll encounter a terrifying desert Jinn, aliens that heal, vivified pottery goddesses, strange angels, a kindly corpse, talking power lines, and an abused, angry, Chinese restaurant dragon – among other paranormal, trans-dimensional beings.

    Many of these stories have been vetted by previous publication in print and online. No better time to hunker down with moody, thought-provoking stories than when the trees become bare, and the days grow short.

    If you enjoy more contemplative dark tales in preference to scaring-you-witless stories, come on in ... crackling fireside and mulled wine await ....

    Get your copy of 13 Lovely Frights for Lonely Nights now.

    What readers say:
    "They are very good stories ... if you like fantasy, it's well worth the price. I certainly wish A Gift in the Night were true."
    Gracie Kat

    "(These stories) are all beautifully written. Definitely recommended."
    C. Robson

    "The story ideas are unique."
    Jeannie Langston

    "I find Blythe's magic realism tales much more evocative, satisfying—and lingering!—than run-of-the-mill dark stories."
    Jay D.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherEmerson and Tilman
    Release dateApr 7, 2020
    ISBN9781947151628
    13 Lovely Frights for Lonely Nights
    Author

    Blythe Ayne

    Dr. Blythe Ayne lives on ten acres of forest in Washington state, writing and caring for the flora and fauna. A psychotherapist in private practice for over 20 years, she now lectures and teaches on the subjects of self-fulfillment, meditation techniques, and healthy body, mind and soul. She also teaches creative writing and has been published in excess of a thousand fiction and nonfiction, online and print, venues under her name, pen names, and ghost writings. She has received numerous writing awards and grants, including the PEN Syndicated Fiction project, SFPA award, CCLM grants, National Endowment for the Arts grants, and others.

    Read more from Blythe Ayne

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      Book preview

      13 Lovely Frights for Lonely Nights - Blythe Ayne

      13

      Lovely Frights

      for

      Lonely Nights

      by

      Blythe Ayne

      13 Lovely Frights for Lonely Nights

      Blythe Ayne

      Emerson & Tilman, Publishers

      129 Pendleton Way #55

      Washougal, WA 98671

      All Rights Reserved

      No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted

      in any form, or by any means, including photocopying, recording,

      or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior

      written permission of the author, except brief quotations

      in critical reviews and other noncommercial

      uses permitted by copyright law.

      13 Lovely Frights for Lonely Nights © Blythe Ayne

      www.BlytheAyne.com

      13 Lovely Frights for Lonely Nights

      ebook ISBN: 978-1-947151-62-8

      Paperback ISBN: 978-1-947151-63-5

      Hardbound ISBN: 978-1-947151-64-2

      [1.  FICTION/Magical Realism

      2. FICTION/Fantasy/Dark Fantasy

      3. FICTION/Short Stories (single author)]

      BIC: FM

      First Edition

      Books & Audio by Blythe Ayne

      Fiction:

      EOS

      The Darling Undesirables Series:

      The Heart of Leo - short story prequel

      The Darling Undesirables

      Moons Rising

      The Inventor’s Clone

      Heart’s Quest

      Children’s Illustrated Books:

      The Rat Who Didn't Like Rats

      The Rat Who Didn’t Like Christmas

      Novellas & Short Story Collections:

      5 Minute Stories

      Lovely Frights for Lonely Nights

      When Fields Hum And Glow

      Nonfiction:

      Love Is The Answer

      45 Ways To Excellent Life

      Life Flows on the River of Love

      Horn of Plenty–The Cornucopia of Your Life

      Finding Your Path, Engaging Your Purpose

      How to Save Your Life Series:

      Save Your Life With The Power Of pH Balance

      Save Your Life With The Phenomenal Lemon

      Save Your Life with Stupendous Spices

      Save Your Life with the Elixir of Water

      Absolute Beginner Series:

      Bed Yoga – Easy, Healing, Yoga Moves You Can Do in Bed

      Write Your Book! Publish Your Book! Market Your Book!

      Poetry:

      Home & the Surrounding Territory

      Audio:

      The Power of pH Balance –

      Dr. Blythe Ayne Interviews Steven Acuff

      Blythe Ayne’s physical books & ebooks are found wherever books are sold.

      www.BlytheAyne.com

      DEDICATION:

      To all who pass through

      The Valley of the Shadow of Death –

      And fear no evil.

      Table of Contents

      Stories in 13 Lovely Frights for Lonely Nights

      have been previously published in the following venues:

      Title: Previously Published In:

      Djinneyah  Wicked Little Witches, Barnes & Noble Anthology

      Last Request Sledgehammer!

      Lila

      Believe This! 10 Speed

      Gift in the Night Sirius Visions

      Angels to Nirvana Sledgehammer! & The Exquisite Rush Anthology

      Spaceship House Strange Days

      Sisters, Sisters

      Across the Wolds

      Pagoda Dragon Alien Skin

      Time, Time, Time 10 Speed

      Ix-Chel and the Iguana

      Stone Face Horrors! Barnes & Noble Anthology

      About The Author

      From time travel, to a terrifying desert Jinn, to a fractal journey to the next life, these adventures will take you to places you’ve never been.

      Enjoy the ride….

      Djinneyah & Co.

      I was still in my office in the social science complex at eleven o’clock one night working on a paper that hated me, when I succumbed to the call of a dark chocolate Milky Way. I headed downstairs to the vending machines. There stood E.J., drinking a soda.

      I hadn’t expected to see any other living thing. I thought about how awful I must look and considered making my escape, but in the moment I hesitated he turned and looked at me. I ran my fingers through my standing-on-end hair, and fed the candy machine a bunch of change.

      Are you in archeology? He had an accent I couldn’t place, faintly Mediterranean I thought, but his pale coloring didn’t match.

      I shook my head, intent while the machine dropped my chocolate fix. Anthropology. I grabbed the Milky Way. Even with my mouth watering, I demurred from ripping it open in front of the blond, blue-eyed stranger.

      The ugly fluorescent lighting made E.J.’s face flat and sallow, and the dark circles under his eyes looked like bruises, taking the life out of his eyes.

      I hoped I looked at least as well and half as good.

      I have to get a paper done by Friday, but I’m stuck in writer’s block, he said.

      Yeah. Same here. Exactly. Paper. Friday. Not good. I fingered my candy bar.

      He extended his hand. I’m Elias, but everyone calls me E.J.

      I took his hand. Firm, thin, nice. Ashley. Everyone calls me—Ashley.

      E.J. smiled. You’re cute.

      Really? I thought, cute? ick . ...

      I mean, E.J. went on, If you’re like me, you’re very tired, but still, you’re friendly. I’ve seen you in the halls and you seemed so serious. By the way, you’re not only cute, you’re beautiful.

      Thank you! Yes, I liked this appraisal much better. I thought of myself as serious, and who didn’t like to be called beautiful once in a while? Particularly when feeling like a rag, a bone, and a hank of hair. Well, I suppose I’d better get back to work. I only have one more night I can abuse myself with that wretched paper. I moved toward the stairs.

      What’s your office phone number? he asked.

      1233. Hey, why be coy?

      He called on Monday, after I, for one, had slept away the better part of the week-end.

      We were married five months later.

      I didn’t realize until after we were married that what had infatuated me about him was not him because in that five months of eighteen-hour days working at our graduate degrees I never really found out who he was. I was intrigued by his ethnographic stories—which for him were simply talking about his family, his life. I was fascinated by his ethnographic mix, a blue-eyed blond with an Israeli passport, Arabian blood, and Christian religion. Mostly, I was infatuated with his infatuation with me.

      But after we were married, it didn’t take me long to learn that love was not infatuation, fascination, or intrigue.

      I found out that E.J., as a person, insisted on sleeping on the same side of the bed as I was my habit, that the fact that he never ate what I ate in restaurants was more of a problem when he didn’t want to eat what I cooked. I found out that although E.J. was Christian, he took his religion far more seriously and to much greater lengths of ritual and commitment than my live-and-let-live doctrine. Conversely, I couldn’t stir him to political fervor—he said American politics were magnificent in concept and pathetic in practice. I discovered I didn’t like his friends, and he couldn’t stand mine.

      I’d never been taught what married love was, not in the way I visualize people in tribal lives sitting down with their young people and imparting the wisdom and art of living with someone and loving them, whether the two of you agree or disagree. The only socialization I’d been given about marriage was to watch my parents fight, become silent, divorce.

      No wonder I was going through an internal litany of ambivalence as I packed in preparation for the semester dig E.J. and I were about to embark on in his homeland. It was because he’d been chosen to go on the dig that we decided to get married right away. We didn’t want to be apart for four months, and people on the dig were allowed to take spouses. This was a fabulous career and education opportunity, I told myself. I’d be able to do anthropology and archeology. Who’d pass that up?

      When we first arrived in Israel we spent a few days with E.J.’s mother and two unmarried adult sisters. The sisters pinched me and stared at me when I laughed. E.J. told me they thought I was too skinny to bear children, and they wanted to be sure I had most of my own teeth. They fed me to the gills six times a day. I was relieved when we left.

      E.J. said I met with family approval, even if I was one of those American women. I restrained myself from saying approval went two ways. I dreaded the thought of future pinching sessions with in-laws. I didn’t say anything critical about his family, but I could see

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