Newton Webb's Blog, page 6
October 31, 2024
#40 The Road Revenant
Written and Narrated by Newton Webb from Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 3.
Available for pre-order on Amazon at 99¢. Click HERE to view on Amazon.
FREE on Kindle Unlimited.
Happy Halloween, my Wicked Darlings!
Play safe, you never know who is watching.
2017 - The Road Revenantby Newton Webb
A Supernatural Horror Short Story: After a drunken David hits a pedestrian while trying to seduce Mia, their already bad night takes a deadly turn when their victim inexplicably refuses to stay dead.
Thank you for joining us for the three AM Jazz Essentials on ‘All Hallows Eve’, the pagan Samhain, or as we call it Halloween, when the gates to the otherworld open. For our next naughty number, I give you Screamin’ Jay Hawkins “I Put a Spell on You.”
A jovial laugh filled the car as David reached over to slide his hands up Mia’s thigh. She could feel the sweat from his clammy hands through her jeans. “Eyes on the road, David.”
“Oh piffle, I’ve barely even started,” he mumbled incoherently. The throaty engine roared as they tore through the country lanes, the lights cleaving through the black. David’s glassy eyes were narrowed in an attempt to focus and he pursed his lips. “Go on, Daddy wants a sip of beer.”
Daddy has had more than enough. Mia ignored him, clinging to the grab handle and praying that another car didn’t come along the road.
She tried to block out the sound of Joe and Bethany making out in the back between howls of laughter. There was a clunk as an empty glass bottle fell over.
David flicked his huge blonde mop of hair back, and Mia felt him try again with his wandering hands. She slapped his wrist, causing him to yelp in pain.
That’ll wake him up.
“What is this? Vaginal nimbyism?” David protested, creating more peals of laughter from the back.
Mia ignored him as she concentrated on the road.
I should never have agreed to attend a Halloween party with this jackass. Unfortunately, his parents were friends of her family. They held him in high esteem and felt he would be a good addition to the Bertram-Smythe dynasty. His political ambitions matched her father's need for social status.
I should have got a taxi home, this is—
“David, watch out!” Mia screamed, as she saw a cloaked figure in a hat and a mask walking down the road towards them.
THUD
It was too late. David slammed on the brakes. The car slew round with an ear- wrenching screech before, with a shuddering impact, it settled in a ditch. Mia was thrown against her seat belt and then against the window.
She sat, shell-shocked. All she could hear was the radio as the occupants of the car silently took in the severity of their situation. Then she shook herself, blinked and turned to look into the back, where Joe was prodding Bethany.
“Bethany? Bethany?” He slapped her face, but when his hand came away with blood on it, he took a sharp intake of breath.
“Don’t hit someone with a head wound,” Mia hissed.
“Is everyone alright?” David asked blearily. “We appear to have got into some japery.”
“Shut up David,” Mia said. “Let me look at Bethany.” She leant over to check. Joe had shrunk away from the still form of his girlfriend. “She’s still breathing,” Mia noted. “Hold her steady. We need to get her to a hospital as soon as we can but first we must find out who or what David just ran into.”
“Oh, it was probably a deer,” David suggested blithely. He shifted into reverse gear and revved with the accelerator and the car shifted slightly. “I think I can get her moving again.”
Mia slapped her thigh in frustration. “David, you really do have to see what you hit! it's your responsibility.”
David tried to wave it off. “It’s fine Mia, they can just call an ambulance if they are—”
“DAVID!” Mia shrieked, glaring at him.
He blinked at her, then swore ferociously. “Absolutely not. We have to press on. I cannot be arrested, father would be furious.”
“David, you can’t just—” Mia tried, horrified at his blasé attitude to potential manslaughter.
“—I wish I’d gone with Bethany. you're a dismal old sock.” David spat.
Mia pulled out her phone to dial 999 when David yanked it out of her hand and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.
“Nobody is calling anyone. Father will tidy this up. There is no need to cause a fuss.” David gave a stern look at Mia, who was horrified. The car slowly crawled back onto the road. The engine was making an ominous ticking sound and one tyre had burst, but she was moving. David crowed with success. “Well, we're all awake now.”
You psychopath, you're still making jokes.
“Joe’s house is closest. We’ll park in his garage and then dial an ambulance.” David said. “It’s important we do right by Bethany.”
You fucking coward. You mean do right by yourself and not get into trouble?
The car drove at a sedate speed this time. The flopping sound of a burst tyre slapping against the tarmac sounded like a heartbeat, echoing round the car in a rhythmic pulse. After five minutes, Mia saw it.
“Davi—”
“I fucking see it.” The car emergency stopped. She heard Bethany’s body slumping into the footwell. In front of them, standing in the middle of the road, was a figure in the same cloak, mask and hat. With the headlights on him, Mia could see it was a Guy Fawkes mask smeared with blood.
David honked the horn.
“Must have been a themed Halloween party,” he said.
The figure didn’t move.
David revved the engine and honked again.
The figure regarded them impassively through its mask.
“Get out of the road, you blithering imbecile!” He angrily gestured with his arm. “Go on, move, you half-witted dullard. You cretinous dolt!”
Mia watched as the figure slowly started to walk towards the car.
“What the hell is he doing?” David honked once again, then held his hand down on the horn. The figure ignored him and continued to approach. “Right, fuck this.” David accelerated towards the figure and performed an emergency stop in front of him.
“David, Bethany is hurt in the back,” Mia said, trying to encourage him to be careful.
The figure turned and walked round the car. It reached to open the driver's side door. David slammed the door lock and sped off, leaving the figure to watch them depart. “Probably on drugs. That’s the problem with liberals.”
You did cocaine with Joe.
When they turned the corner, the figure was waiting, again in the middle of the road. Watching them.
“That’s it,” David floored the accelerator and drove straight into the figure with a crunch. The car jerked as it rode over the body.
Terror filled Mia. David had just committed murder.
“I want to get out,” she whispered.
“No, we're all going to Joe’s to sober up and get our stories straight. I'm not going to prison because some nerd from Anonym—”
As they followed the winding country lane round yet another bend, the figure was waiting for them, its mask cracked and bright red with fresh blood. David growled and drove straight into it. As he ploughed over the body, the car jumped. With the tyre already gone, he lost control and the car smashed into a tree. The engine died and the lights went out.
Mia’s body was once again hurled against her seatbelt.
Bethany.
She looked back. The figure was in the back seat of the car. Its mask was cracked and she could see the pulped face of a corpse behind it. It was regarding David coolly. She couldn’t see Bethany, but Joe…
She released the seatbelt and stumbled out of the car as David started ranting at the manifestation in his backseat. Mia stumbled across the verge and vomited into the hedge. She rolled onto her back in the cold, wet grass, panting with fear and weeping in the cold autumn air.
Joe was dead. His throat was a mess of blood and torn flesh.
As she looked at the car, the angry sounds of David suddenly were replaced by a gurgling. Then silence.
The figure emerged from the car and slowly walked towards her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” she repeated as a mantra as she scooted backwards on her rear across the grass verge. She pressed herself against the needling hedgerow.
The sound of another car engine sounded. The headlights momentarily blinded her.
When she was no longer in the full beam of the highlights, she saw that the figure had disappeared. Mia cast her eyes round in terror.
Where is it?
The new car came to a sudden stop.
“Are you okay, dear?” An elderly couple emerged, faces filled with pity. The wife shone a pocket torch in her direction.
Mia couldn’t answer. She was frozen in place as tears ran down her face.
“Can you move?” the woman asked.
She nodded.
“Let’s get you to a hospital. Is there anyone else?”
Mia shook her head, crying louder.
The man helped her to her feet and into their car.
Mia woke in a hospital bed with an IV drip in her arm and her neck in a brace. Propped up on pillows, she blinked through the mist of pain relief and saw, standing at the foot of the bed, the figure.
It watched her with its inscrutable gaze.
October 24, 2024
#39 The Black Widow
Written and Narrated by Newton Webb from Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 3.
Available for pre-order on Amazon at 99¢. Click HERE to view on Amazon.
FREE on Kindle Unlimited.
October 21, 2024
$0.99 Pre-Order: Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 3
Sam looked at her, tears running down his face. ‘If it is working, then why can I still hear the voices?’
The final chapter in the internationally bestselling 'The Macabre Codex' is here! Newton’s Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 3 takes you through the terrifying annals of time.
Click HERE to view on Amazon.
For a preview of Mind Games, featured in Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 3, I did a live reading HERE.
When Jackson hears the soulful blues duet of his neighbor and a mysterious woman, he is drawn into a haunting mystery that threatens to consume him.
When Giovanni accepts a commission that could make or break his career, he embarks on a frantic race against time. Consumed by his obsession to create the ultimate masterpiece, he struggles to hold on to his morality and sanity as the deadline looms.
For years, Toby lived with a silent companion only he could see—a spectral girl lurking in mirrors. As she draws closer with each passing day, Toby must confront a terrifying truth that could cost him everything.
If you relish page-turning frights, haunting revelations, and the thrill of your blood running cold, then you’ll love the concluding book in Newton Webb’s baleful trilogy.
Available in eBook, paperback, or hardback.
If you want to be eligible for an Advanced Reader Copy of the eBook, they are available via BookSprout.
October 3, 2024
#38 Mind Games
Written and Narrated by Newton Webb
Author's Note: After extensive therapy, I now know how to pronounce breakneck.
September 27, 2024
PF-024: The Catfish Killer by Newton Webb
To read this story online, click HERE.
If you enjoyed this free short story, then please consider Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1 or its sequel Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 2.
For more free stories, check out the links below:
Hair Raising Reads: 75 FREE horror stories, including ‘A Portrait of Sin’, ‘Lassitude’, ‘Mind Games’, ‘The Winter Wraiths,’ ‘The Catfish Killer.’
Chilling Reads: 103 horror stories, including ‘Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1’, ‘Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 2’, ‘Festival of the Damned,’ ‘Smoke in the Sewers,’ ‘The Ballad of Barnacle Bill,’ ‘The Black Fog,’ ‘The Heir Apparent,’ ‘The Horror at Hargrave Hall,’ ‘The Morrígan,’ ‘The Blood Eagle.’
Sweet screams!
Praise for Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1
"This book was full of nail-biting moments. The book was full of variety that kept you engaged and wanting to read the next story"
"Newton Webb never disappoints. His debut collection includes most of his best stories, spanning a huge amount of time and going through a great variety of settings. Some are novelettes, others more of a typical short story length, always well written, with a fantastic use of the English language"
"These 16 scary stories are really, really good! My absolute favorites of the bunch were Festival of the Damned and The Heir Apparent (man, what a twist I was NOT expecting!)"
"This was a very enjoyable collection of eerily prophetic stories, full of variety and encompassing a world of demonic entities, cannibalism, ghouls, murder, ancient curses and deviant sex addiction. From folk horror to supernatural sci-fi tales, what more could you wish for? Each story slowly unfolds with a sense of unease and menace, complimented by many unexpected twists and turns. The moral theme of these stories would appear to be, 'be careful of what you wish for'. Highly recommended"
September 21, 2024
Newt's Substack Summer
HighlightsTop SubstacksColin’s Dark-Stories by
☕ I read the most in the afternoon.
💌 I subscribed to 2 new Substacks.
🎧 I listened to 23 minutes of podcasts (more of a reader).
❤️ I liked 6 posts.
💬 I left 8 comments on posts.
📜 I scrolled 5 meters in Notes (I'm new to Notes).
Ryan Bush's Writing by
Dark tales often feature Thailand, but not always.
Top post this summer: Dinner For Two?
Fortuitous Thought by
Fun stories about fantastical places
Top post this summer: The Beheading Game
Horror Weekly by
Random musings on product management, job hunting, and miscellanea.
Top post this summer: My Take on Brainteaser Interview Questions in 2024
A E Deakin - Strange Dark Fiction by
Weekly Newsletter of Horror Synopses and Reviews.
Top post this summer: The Last Voyage of the Demeter, The Latent Image, Aliens, Misery, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and Amityville 1992
Share your own Summer Recap
Strange Dark Fiction.
Top post this summer: Dining Alone
You can see your own summer recap in the Substack app. I’d love to see what you’ve been reading.
September 20, 2024
PF-023: A Portrait of Sin by Newton Webb
To read this story online, click HERE.
If you enjoyed this free short story, then please consider Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1 or its sequel Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 2.
For more free stories, check out the links below:
Hair Raising Reads: 75 FREE horror stories, including ‘A Portrait of Sin’, ‘Lassitude’, ‘Mind Games’, ‘The Winter Wraiths,’ ‘The Catfish Killer.’
Chilling Reads: 103 horror stories, including ‘Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1’, ‘Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 2’, ‘Festival of the Damned,’ ‘Smoke in the Sewers,’ ‘The Ballad of Barnacle Bill,’ ‘The Black Fog,’ ‘The Heir Apparent,’ ‘The Horror at Hargrave Hall,’ ‘The Morrígan,’ ‘The Blood Eagle.’
Sweet screams!
Praise for Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1
"This book was full of nail-biting moments. The book was full of variety that kept you engaged and wanting to read the next story"
"Newton Webb never disappoints. His debut collection includes most of his best stories, spanning a huge amount of time and going through a great variety of settings. Some are novelettes, others more of a typical short story length, always well written, with a fantastic use of the English language"
"These 16 scary stories are really, really good! My absolute favorites of the bunch were Festival of the Damned and The Heir Apparent (man, what a twist I was NOT expecting!)"
"This was a very enjoyable collection of eerily prophetic stories, full of variety and encompassing a world of demonic entities, cannibalism, ghouls, murder, ancient curses and deviant sex addiction. From folk horror to supernatural sci-fi tales, what more could you wish for? Each story slowly unfolds with a sense of unease and menace, complimented by many unexpected twists and turns. The moral theme of these stories would appear to be, 'be careful of what you wish for'. Highly recommended"
September 18, 2024
The Butcher of Bath by Newton Webb
HMP Shepton Mallet, England, 2024Dibbers adjusted his tie in the mirror of his Skoda Fabia.
“Too formal. You need a trench coat. And a cigarette.” Bee slurped down her cola before stopping to look at it with disgust. “Straw’s gone soggy. Greta Thunberg has ruined Maccas.” She pulled the lid off and tossed it into a paper bag to join the forest of greasy wrappers.
“How do I look?” Dibbers asked, ignoring her criticism.
“I can’t decide, either like an estate agent or an insurance salesman—I get it now, that’s why you called your YouTube channel Pixies Paranormal Investigation, after PPI!”
Dibbers blinked. “No, not at all, nobody else would think that. It’s alliteration, a common literary device to make the channel name sound more exciting.” He brushed some lint off his waistcoat, looking hurt. “A lot of thought went into it.”
“Why pixies though? Have you ever done a video on pixies? What about ‘Paranormal Pursuits’, ‘Ghost Gang,’ ‘Supernatural Sightings—”
“We’re not changing it. We’ll confuse our 243 fans,” Dibbers snapped.
Rolling her eyes, Bee pulled out her phone and started scrolling.
Dibbers checked the clock on the car dashboard. “Okay, time to get set up. Let’s get the livestream ready.”
The two of them gathered the vast array of ghost hunting equipment and loaded up the folding cart. A sticker on the cart’s side proudly named it ‘PPI Mule’.
“Got backup memory cards? Check the power bank.”
“Three green lights. Come on Dibs, I know how a power bank works.”
“Sorry, it’s a big night for me.” He pulled his jacket tighter. “It’s my first broadcast and we only have the site for one night. We don’t get a second chance.”
“Stop stressing you oaf.” Bee flashed Dibs a cheeky smile as he squirmed, his foot tapping on the car park tarmac. She loaded the remaining items onto the PPI Mule and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Come on poppet, it’s no different to any of the YouTube videos you’ve recorded before, just stick to the script and act scared.”
“I’m not acting. Being a ghost hunter is a serious profession.”
Each taking an end, they wheeled the cart to the prison entrance. HMP Shepton Mallet loomed ahead, its imposing stone façade casting long shadows in the dim evening light. The building, long abandoned, exuded an air of silent menace, its barred windows dark and unwelcoming. The iron gates creaked ominously as Dibbers pushed them open, the sound echoing eerily across the empty grounds.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of damp and decay, mingling with the faint, metallic scent of rust.
The exterior of the fortress was covered in graffiti, the scrawled words barely legible beneath layers of grime.
Dibbers fumbled with the padlock on the main entrance door, his hands shaking slightly in the cold. The lock clicked open with a reluctant clank. "It’s one of those locks with a knack to them," he excused. Dust motes danced in the beams of their flashlights, creating ghostly patterns in the gloom. Every footstep reverberated off the stone walls. As they moved deeper into the facility the narrow corridors stretched out before them like a labyrinth. The chill in the air was sharper here, accentuated by the cold stone.
The air tasted stale as they ventured further, the darkness pressing in from all sides, broken only by the feeble glow of their lamps taped to the cart, and the narrow beam of Dibbers' torch. “It’s quite a way in. Malik was held in solitary until his execution.” Dibbers led the way through the old reception area. The doors inside were all unlocked. It was pitch black except for the head-lamps taped onto their cart, Dibbers’ torch and—“Are you texting?”
“Hmm? Yeah, Phil. I’m making sure he is free for pizza tomorrow.”
“This is an important night.” Dibbers pushed open another set of double doors.
Bee finished her text and dropped the phone in her pocket. “It’s not just a date, Dibs. It’s free pizza. He could go rogue and accidentally, or worse intentionally, order vegan.”
“Let’s start here for the opening scene. You can prefix the livestream with it.” Dibbers set himself up in front of the HMP Shepton Mallet sign. “Ready?”
“Rolling,” Bee said, setting the camera.
“HMP Shepton Mallet, home to Britain’s most depraved killers. Tonight, we bring you a live broadcast from the cell of the Butcher of Bath, Malik Kowalski.” Dibbers’ voice grew in confidence. “Malik was a Polish airman who escaped the German occupation of his homeland to join the RAF in 1939. After the war, he opened a butcher’s shop. It was then that the children began to disappear.” Dibbers coughed. “Whoopsie.” He motioned for Bee to stop recording. “Can you crop that?”
Bee laughed. “You, an adult man, said ‘Whoopsie.’ You looked so serious!”
“I AM serious, Bee. If you can’t handle this professionally, wait in Yoda.”
Her eyes narrowed before opening as she gave a bright smile. "I’m sorry, I just—Got it! Yoda the Skoda. I like that one. It’s actually quite clever." She gave him an apologetic grin. “Sorry it’s just that my nights out normally involve cider, crisps and if I’m feeling cheeky, which I always am, a little ‘bucca.”
“I let you come tonight because you’re my best friend. This isn’t just a hobby for me, this is a job. I don’t want to let down our fans.”
“All two hundred and forty-three of them.” She smiled at him innocently.
“Come on,” he relented, accepting that she was as serious as she could manage. “It is time we penetrated the interior.” He set off before pausing. It was quiet, too quiet. He tilted his head to one side and listened.
Turning, he saw Bee frozen still, her face red, until, with an explosive gasp, she released her breath and erupted into laughter. “You are so intense, I love it, I really do. Why aren’t you like this at the bookshop?”
Pursing his lips, Dibbers regarded her. “Did you add something to that Coke?”
Bee suddenly stopped laughing, adopting a look of childlike innocence.
“Bee!”
“What? Christ. A little voddy, chill out.” She caught up with him, the squeaky sound of the cart echoing down the corridor. “Come on then. Let’s go. Whose house? Ghost house!”
Dibbers closed his eyes and sighed. Tonight of all nights. He pulled out a printed map and led her down the long corridors filled with rows of bleak concrete cells and iron doors, past long-abandoned security checkpoints. The lamps on the PPI Mule lit the way but cast long shadows. His small security torch flicked into the corners as the oppressive weight of the brutalist structure bore down on him. Looking at the iron beds, he tried to imagine what it would be like, confined in the cells day after soul-crushing day.
Suddenly, he stopped, yelping as the cart ran into the back of his heels. “We are here.” His flashlight shone into the empty cell, seemingly identical to all the others. “Help me set up the equipment.” A feverish air of excitement tinged his voice. “I’ll stand here.” He marked an X on the floor with tape. “Set the camera here and the light there.” He pointed to the relevant positions.
“Just a reminder. You went to university to study classical literature, whereas I went to film school. So you stand there and I’ll handle the lighting.”
He stretched, standing tall as Bee set up the equipment. “Okay, but make sure the camera is angled to keep the tape out of the shot.”
“Shush, I know you are stressed, but you’ll only wear yourself out with your nonsensical micromanagement. I’m the tech girl.You are the eye candy in a cheap suit.”
“This isn’t a cheap suit,” Dibbers snapped. “It’s from M&S, from their Autograph range!”
“I don’t have time to eye roll right now, so I need you to imagine that I’m doing it. Hard.” Bee ran the cabling back to the power bank. “We’ve got a green light on the wireless router, we’re getting a… decentish upload speed. Three minutes, Dibs,” Bee called out.
“Right, right.” He flexed his arms, trying to shake out some of the tension. Mentally, he ran through a checklist of the points he wanted to cover. He checked his watch. Then, tapping his foot, he concentrated on Bee and waited for her countdown.
She looked up. “I can feel you staring at me. It won’t make time move any—Oh, 5, 4, 3.” She silently mouthed two and one.
The lights went out, and they were plunged into darkness.
“Bee! This is our first live show. Three green lights, I was clear.” Dibbers fumbled for his phone to shine a light in her direction. The cloth of his trousers felt coarse. Blinded by the darkness, his fingers couldn’t even find a pocket, let alone his phone. “Bee! Where are you? This is not the time to fall silent.”
Shhh.
Dibbers jumped. “Who is that? Who is in here with me?” He flailed his arms to see if he could find whoever had the temerity to shush him. “Bee, if this is a prank to produce a blooper video or to make me a meme, I told you we don’t do that; we are a professional...” His voice tailed off as the lights turned on in the corridor.
Now you’ve done it.
The voice sounded faint, dispassionate, as if it was both in Dibbers’ head but also far away. “Done what?” Dibbers snapped at the darkness.
Two large uniformed men appeared at the cell door. There was no sign of Bee or the equipment. The corridor and cell seemed cleaner than they’d looked under torchlight, the dust was gone.
“Hello, yes, I have permission to be here. I can show you an email of confirmation from the trustees.”
The first man opened the cell door, his companion locking it behind him. He had a grim, angry expression on his face. “Well, aren’t we feeling chatty today?”
“Yes, I’m producing a video on the history of Shepton Mallet, do you—” a meaty fist slammed into his solar plexus, leaving Dibbers gasping on the floor, his mouth opening and shutting like a fish out of water.
The officer kicked him in the stomach.
“If you’ve hurt Bee, I’ll—”
“If I hurt you?” The man chuckled.
Dibbers looked up, enraged. “Not me, BEE.”
“Oh, I’m going to hurt you.” The man picked up Dibbers by his shirt.
Dibbers looked down at it with disgust. His suit was gone, and he was dressed like an inmate. He tried to push free, but his usually immaculate hands were filthy, his nails long and black.
Pressing Dibbers against the wall, the officer leaned in close, his rancid breath catching at his throat. “See, it’s troubled me for a long while now. You were caught dead to rights, you murderous son of a bitch, but you never confessed.”
Because I didn’t do it.
The officer pulled out a pair of handcuffs and clinked them round Dibbers' wrists. Shoving Dibbers onto the bed, he cuffed his ankles.
Despite his best efforts, Dibbers couldn’t break free of the restraints. “Stop it. Listen, I believe we have a classic case of mistaken identity; my name is Robin Alan Wood, commonly referred to by my pseudonym of, OOF.” Dibbers was once more left winded by another blow from the ham-fisted assailant.
He was lifted forwards and slammed back against the wall, his head smacking against the concrete with bruising force. “It’s a bit late for that, Butcher, tell me your name, or—” he took one of Dibbers' hands and held it against the wall. “I’m going to start breaking your fingers one by one.”
“You can’t, you’ll be arrested for abuse.” Dibbers protested. He kicked out at the man’s shins.
The man grunted with pain and then headbutted Dibbers. “You really shouldn’t have done that, Butcher.”
Disorientated, Dibbers would have fallen over had he not been held up.
“I believe I can contact Malik and pass your questions on to him.”
“Oh, I bet you can. Now, which finger do I break first?” He lifted up Dibbers' restrained hands and played with each digit individually. “Ah, this little piggy went to market.”
Before he could snap it, Dibbers yelled out. “Fine, I’m Malik Kowalski.”
I confessed too, when the torture got too much.
“There we go, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He released Dibbers' fingers.
Dibbers whimpered when the guard released him, and he curled up tighter on the bed. “This is retrocognition. It isn’t real.”
“Oh, it is very real, Butcher. See, I know what you did. What I don’t know is why.”
I didn’t do it. The real killer is still out there.
Dibbers looked around, but the source of the enraged voice couldn’t be found, just the murderous-looking officer.
“What was it? Did you kill someone in the war? Get a taste for it? Or maybe you are ashamed because you hid from the Germans? Decided to take it out on those kids.”
I fought in the Battle of Britain. I shot down four NAZI fighters.
“Please, I will say anything, just please, let’s be reasonable here.”
That was the wrong thing to say. The officer gripped Dibbers around the throat. He squeezed hard, choking him. Dibbers tried to break free, his face going red, his lungs burning.
“Bill, stop it, you can’t kill him,” the other officer called out from behind the cell door.
Bill held on for just a bit longer before shoving Dibbers back onto the bed. “No, I can’t kill you, the courts deserve that pleasure, but I can hurt you and I will be present to watch you hang. See, one of those kids, a little girl called Beth, was my niece. Do you remember her?”
Dibbers remained silent.
“So, this is what we know so far. A Polack is allowed into our country after fleeing the NAZIS in his own lands. He’s then given a job in the RAF.” He spat at Dibbers. The thick, congealed phlegm stuck on Dibbers’ cheek. “I couldn’t even get a job in the RAF. Bad eyesight, you see, but I bet they didn’t even check you, did they?” Bill gazed down at Dibbers, who was lying cuffed on the bed and shaking with fear. “Not so chatty now, are you?” He slapped Dibbers soundly. “I said, ‘Not so chatty now, are you?’”
“No,” Dibbers bleated.
“That’s better. So, after we’ve given you a lovely job, you are discharged. You could have gone home. You should have gone home. Why would you? Lovely country like England. No, you didn’t want to go back to your backwater, your little shit-hole of a country, did you?”
The NAZIS killed my family; I had nothing to go back to.
“So, you stayed. You became a butcher, but dead animals weren’t enough for you, were they? What led you to kill your first kid?” He hoisted Dibbers up again, his eyes filled with hate. This time, he squeezed Dibbers’ throat even harder.
Dibbers looked into his eyes, and when the second officer called out to Bill and told him to ease off, he knew that Bill wouldn’t. Dibbers' eyes bulged, his mouth widened, desperate for any scrap of air.
Find the truth.
Dibbers gasped as air filled his lungs. He staggered back against the wall. Reaching up, he found the pain had gone. He held up his hands, nails neatly clipped and clean. His jacket, thankfully M&S, Autograph, of course. “What… what happened?”
He looked around him, the camera was recording. Bee was looking at him in shock.
“Cut, cut.” Dibbers felt faint. “Turn that bloody thing off.”
He sat on the dusty floor amidst the debris of the abandoned prison and hid his head in his hands.
Bee came over and looked at him in awe. “That was amazing, Dibbers. You are trending!”
“I’m what?” Dibbers looked up.
“Over a thousand followers from just that broadcast alone. You should have warned me that you were doing a one-man show thing.”
“A thousand?” Dibbers looked down at his neatly polished shoes. “How many does Taylor Swift have?”
Bee paused. “A few more, but a thousand is still amazing.” She offered a hand to him.
Shakily, with Bee’s help, Dibbers rose. “A thousand…”
“When are you doing your next performance?”
Dibbers took a breath. “I’m not, Bee, we have a new mission.”
“Oh?” Bee pulled out a chocolate bar from her jacket.
“We have to prove the innocence of Malik Kowalski.” He straightened his posture. “And PPI has to discover who the real Butcher of Bath was.”
“One question,” Bee asked hesitantly. “Are you really, really, 100% set on calling us PPI?”
If you enjoyed this free short story, then please consider Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1 or its sequel Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 2.
For more free stories, check out the links below:
Hair Raising Reads: 75 FREE horror stories, including ‘A Portrait of Sin’, ‘Lassitude’, ‘Mind Games’, ‘The Winter Wraiths,’ ‘The Catfish Killer.’
Chilling Reads: 103 horror stories, including ‘Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1’, ‘Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 2’, ‘Festival of the Damned,’ ‘Smoke in the Sewers,’ ‘The Ballad of Barnacle Bill,’ ‘The Black Fog,’ ‘The Heir Apparent,’ ‘The Horror at Hargrave Hall,’ ‘The Morrígan,’ ‘The Blood Eagle.’
Sweet screams!
PS: Happy Birthday Dibbers! If anyone here is interested in Pixie's Paranormal Investigations. They are on Facebook and can be found HERE.
Praise for Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1
"This book was full of nail-biting moments. The book was full of variety that kept you engaged and wanting to read the next story"
"Newton Webb never disappoints. His debut collection includes most of his best stories, spanning a huge amount of time and going through a great variety of settings. Some are novelettes, others more of a typical short story length, always well written, with a fantastic use of the English language"
"These 16 scary stories are really, really good! My absolute favorites of the bunch were Festival of the Damned and The Heir Apparent (man, what a twist I was NOT expecting!)"
"This was a very enjoyable collection of eerily prophetic stories, full of variety and encompassing a world of demonic entities, cannibalism, ghouls, murder, ancient curses and deviant sex addiction. From folk horror to supernatural sci-fi tales, what more could you wish for? Each story slowly unfolds with a sense of unease and menace, complimented by many unexpected twists and turns. The moral theme of these stories would appear to be, 'be careful of what you wish for'. Highly recommended"
September 6, 2024
PF-022: The Diadem of Kings by Newton Webb
To read this story online, click HERE.
If you enjoyed this free short story, then please consider Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1 or its sequel Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 2.
For more free stories, check out the links below:
Books You Can't Put Down: 101 FREE horror stories, including ‘Mind Games’, ‘A Portrait of Sin’, ‘Darius the Dazzler’, ‘The Girl in the Glass’, ‘Lassitude’
Chilling Reads: 53 horror stories, including ‘Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1’, ‘Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 2’
Sweet screams!
Praise for Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1
"This book was full of nail-biting moments. The book was full of variety that kept you engaged and wanting to read the next story"
"Newton Webb never disappoints. His debut collection includes most of his best stories, spanning a huge amount of time and going through a great variety of settings. Some are novelettes, others more of a typical short story length, always well written, with a fantastic use of the English language"
"These 16 scary stories are really, really good! My absolute favorites of the bunch were Festival of the Damned and The Heir Apparent (man, what a twist I was NOT expecting!)"
"This was a very enjoyable collection of eerily prophetic stories, full of variety and encompassing a world of demonic entities, cannibalism, ghouls, murder, ancient curses and deviant sex addiction. From folk horror to supernatural sci-fi tales, what more could you wish for? Each story slowly unfolds with a sense of unease and menace, complimented by many unexpected twists and turns. The moral theme of these stories would appear to be, 'be careful of what you wish for'. Highly recommended"
September 4, 2024
Newt's Nightmares #103
Newt's Nightmares
For the video version, click HERE:
Greetings, my wicked darlings!
The lineup for Tales of the Macabre Vol. 3 has been completed (as always subject to change) and is off to my copy editor. At the moment, we are looking at eighteen frightful fables, although I really want to make it nineteen… Either way, I’m really excited to be unveiling the concluding part of the trilogy. What’s your favourite story from Tales of the Macabre?
Where do I go next? Well, we’ll be releasing an enormous book, a special edition combining all the stories from Tales of the Macabre in a chunky hardback with all kinds of premium features, but that is more of a job for my editors and beta readers, really. What do I do? I could wander around listlessly for a bit. We have a splendid 11th-century Norman church just five minutes’ walk away that could use a haunting. Or I could take up a new vice… could I? I thought that, like Pokémon, I’d caught them all. Maybe I should return to my roots and write another novel?
Whatever I do, and no matter how many ales I’m plied with, I absolutely should not sign up to produce another trilogy of short stories. Next newsletter, I’ll let you know what the Newt will get up to in his next literary adventure (if we are realistic, it’s definitely going to be another trilogy of short stories, isn’t it?).
Last month, I released two free eBooks, The Winter Wraiths and The Catfish Killer, for download or to read online. I released five audiobooks, The Croydon Ripper, Lassitude, The Black Shuck. I also promised two versions of Mind Games. One version of Mind Games to be narrated by myself for Newton’s Tales of the Macabre, the other by ElevenLabs for Phantom Frequencies. I really want to know how they compare? Which do you prefer? Let me know.
This month, I’ve been taking a journey into 1962—bell bottoms and go-go boots are the order of the day and you’d better believe the girls’ hair is bouffant! The working title is The Blighted Child, but I’m likely to change that. I’m also hoping to finish The Butcher of Bath.
The installation team will set up the new kitchen on the 18th, so I'm excited to start cooking up a storm. Though it is a relatively big job as it’ll be a large kitchen (by UK standards where, like Harry Potter, we all live in closets).
Wait. Just to be clear, I might live in a closet, but I am not trapped in the closet.
Phew, well, that went on longer than anticipated. Anyway, over to you. I hope you are all doing wonderfully and are reading some wondrously terrifying tomes.
Sweet screams,
Newt
PS: Many thanks to Readers Favourite for their 5* review for TotM 1!
PPS: If you have an interest in project management and job hunting, then check out Fortuitous Thought.
New ReleasesComing up this month, I have some horrific treats in store for you with four free audiobooks. I am also hoping to release two eBooks, but with the work on TotM v3, they might get pushed to October.
6th September 2024 - The Diadem of Kings (Audiobook)
Betrayed and disinherited, José leads a doomed expedition into the heart of the jungle in search of an ancient treasure.
13th September 2024 - The Winter Wraiths (Audiobook)
Trapped in a crumbling manor during a harsh winter, a governess and her young charge must uncover its dark secrets before time runs out, or risk being consumed by its curse.
20th September 2024 - A Portrait of Sin (Audiobook)
The sunlit alleys of sixteenth-century Florence hide a dark and tragic struggle as a brilliant painter battles a devastating creative block.
27th September 2024 - The Catfish Killer (Audiobook)
In the chilling depths of online dating, Jedd's predatory pursuit of vulnerable women traps him in a nightmare when he matches with more than he expected.
In case you missed them, last month, we released the following:
9th August 2024 - The Black Shuck (Audiobook)
Confronted by her own demons, Tina embarks on a harrowing journey, navigating through guilt, fear, and the restless spirits of the wronged.
16th August 2024 - Lassitude (Audiobook)
Mystery, peril, insanity intertwine. In the depths of writer's block and personal despair, Alfie encounters a mysterious stranger in a Soho bar.
21th August 2024 - The Catfish Killer (eBook)
Jedd's careless catfishing triggers a catastrophic chain of events, plunges him into a nightmarish battle for survival.
23st August 2024 - The Croydon Ripper (Audiobook)
The Croydon Ripper's reign of terror casts a shadow over Sheila's life, transforming her daily walk home from the library into a journey fraught with suspicion.
28rd August 2024 - The Winter Wraiths (eBook)
Trapped in a crumbling manor during a harsh winter, a governess and her young charge must uncover its dark secrets before time runs out, or risk being consumed by its curse.
30th August 2024 - The Two Leg Brother (Audiobook)
Greyhair, the last of his pack, is hunted by bloodthirsty men through an unforgiving forest. When he crosses paths with a lone two-leg, they form an uneasy truce.
Hair Raising Reads: 75 FREE horror stories, including ‘A Portrait of Sin’, ‘Lassitude’, ‘Mind Games’, ‘The Winter Wraiths,’ ‘The Catfish Killer.’
Chilling Reads: 103 horror stories, including ‘Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1’, ‘Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 2’, ‘Festival of the Damned,’ ‘Smoke in the Sewers,’ ‘The Ballad of Barnacle Bill,’ ‘The Black Fog,’ ‘The Heir Apparent,’ ‘The Horror at Hargrave Hall,’ ‘The Morrígan,’ ‘The Blood Eagle.’
What I’ve Been WatchingI watched and made video reviews for several movies as part of Cinema Society Saturday:
Thanks for reading Newton’s Free Horror! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
If you enjoyed this email, then please consider Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1. My first collected works on Amazon containing sixteen short stories and novellas by Newton Webb.
Newton Webb BibliographyAvailable on AmazonCollected WorksContemporary2022 – The Heir Apparent, Novella
2018 – The Morrígan, Novella
2017 – Nestor Lynch, Novel
2013 – Festival of The Damned, Novella
2012 – The Platinum Service, Novella
Historical1958 – The Black Fog, Short Story
1864 – Smoke in the Sewers, Novella
1832 – The Horror at Hargrave Hall, Novella
1818 – The Ballad of Barnacle Bill, Novella
1194 – Hunted, Short Story
Read a collection of free short stories or listen to free audiobooks by Newton Webb on his website.
