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    Hidden Horrors
    Hidden Horrors
    Hidden Horrors
    Ebook30 pages20 minutes

    Hidden Horrors

    By R.W. Wallace

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Sometimes our mind lets go of memories because it considers them insignificant.


    Sometimes it buries them deep, to protect us.


    But at some point, we're ready to face our greatest fears, and the memories resurface.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherVarden Publishing
    Release dateJul 30, 2020
    ISBN9791095707455
    Hidden Horrors
    Author

    R.W. Wallace

    R.W. Wallace writes in most genres, though she tends to end up in mystery more often than not. Dead bodies keep popping up all over the place whenever she sits down in front of her keyboard. The stories mostly take place in Norway or France; the country she was born in and the one that has been her home for two decades. Don't ask her why she writes in English - she won't have a sensible answer for you. Her Ghost Detective short story series appears in Pulphouse Magazine, starting in issue #9. You can find all her books, long and short, on rwwallace.com.

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      Book preview

      Hidden Horrors - R.W. Wallace

      Hidden Horrors

      A Mystery Short Story

      R.W. Wallace

      image-placeholder

      Varden Publishing

      Contents

      One

      Two

      Three

      Four

      Five

      Six

      Seven

      About the Author

      Also By R.W. Wallace

      Copyright

      One

      Take a deep breath in through the nose. Out through the mouth.

      I inhale deeply. The smell of figs reach me through the open window, even though the compost is at the far end of the garden. My husband Marc spent the afternoon raking below the fig tree and the smell of ripe fruit is going to be an integral part of our back yard for a while.

      My pantry is filling up with pots of jam. When I reached twenty pots, I decided we had enough to last our family of four until next year. The last batch of figs went into a pie, and the rest I hereby offer to the blackbirds and the wasps.

      On the next breath, gently close your eyes and let your breathing go back to normal.

      Dammit, my mind wandered again. I follow the instructions and let my eyes close.

      Open your senses. Feel your contact with your surroundings. Sounds. Smells.

      Well, my ass is firmly planted on my chair and I’m feeling nice and heavy. The murmur of the cars from the highway is fairly faint today, like it always is on a heavy and humid summer night. The neighbors are having a party again, but it’s not too noisy. Just some chatting between friends and some low-key music. Madame Humbert next door keeps complaining about them every time we meet. She apparently feels that owning a house in a somewhat rich neighborhood should protect you against anyone below the

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