Terror in the Shadows vol. 1: Terror in the Shadows Anthology
Terror in the Shadows vol. 1: Terror in the Shadows Anthology
Terror in the Shadows vol. 1: Terror in the Shadows Anthology
Terror in the Shadows vol. 1: Terror in the Shadows Anthology

Terror in the Shadows vol. 1: Terror in the Shadows Anthology

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The dark can be a terrible, terrible place…

A young man’s attempts at breaking parole end in a night of horror. A child realizes that his Christmas gift might be a lot more sinister than he originally thought. An editor unveils his client’s sinister plan to cleanse the world of all evil. And a woman’s walk home is accompanied by a strange presence that promises a gruesome end.

Scare Street’s authors Ron Ripley, David Longhorn, Sara Clancy, and A. I. Nasser come together to bring you some of the most horrifying short stories in a single collection. They’re here to tell tales of the terrible and the macabre in a book so unsettling it will bring chills to your very core.

So head over to your favorite chair, make yourself comfortable, and dive right in. We promise that sleep will be the last thing on your mind. Just make sure you keep the lights on. The dark can be a terrible, terrible place....




We forgot about the music box for a few months after that night. Well, not forgot, but decided to ignore it, as though that night had never happened. It was a family habit; maybe if we didn't speak about what bothered us, then it didn't happen.


Kevin avoided me for a couple of days; after that night and on the rare occasions when we had to be in the same room together, I could see how hurt he was that I hadn't said anything to our father that night. It was the ultimate betrayal. I was supposed to be the big brother, always there to have his back.


When he finally did forgive me, I was in the backyard fixing my bike. I saw him from the corner of my eyes, rolling his own bike towards me with its flat back tire. He waited for me to fix the chain into place on my own BMX, all the time shuffling his feet and looking away when I caught him staring.


"Didn't I show you how to fix that?" I asked.


"I still can't do it right," Kevin replied. "I tried, but it didn't work."


"So we're talking now?"


Kevin shuffled his feet and looked at me, then nodded.


"Here, let's take it to the garage."


I abandoned my bike in the driveway and led Kevin to the garage where we set his bike up on the small workstation my dad usually used for his 'projects'. I half expected my brother to just prop up on a stool and watch me like he usually did, but he was quick to help with the tools, and paid close attention to everything I did. It was clear he wanted to show he was not fooling around.


When I had finally patched up the hole, I lowered the bike and rolled it to one side where he could pump the tire up.


"Want to go to the comic store?" I asked. "Dad gave me my allowance. My treat."


Kevin smiled. "Maybe next time," he said. "I still haven't read the one I have."


I shrugged and pushed up onto the worktable, swinging my legs as I sat and watched him pump the tire.


"You know, I really am sorry." I said.


Kevin paused for a second, and without turning around, nodded.


"I didn't know what happened, Kevin," I continued. "It was so weird. Like I was dreaming or something, you know? You had these yellow eyes and-"


Kevin dropped the pump and covered his face in his hands. His shoulders rose and fell as he sobbed, and I quickly slid off the table and fell on my knees beside him. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed him to me. "Hey, what's wrong?"


Kevin hugged me, crying freely now. His body shook like a leaf in my arms, and I felt tears well up in my own eyes. I felt helpless.




"It scared me, Johnny," Kevin mumbled in my shoulder. "It was so dark and scary. I couldn't see anything. And I was cold."


I frowned, his words causing a chill to race through me. I looked over my shoulder at the door leading to the kitchen, contemplating whether or not to call for help, but quickly decided against it. Kevin needed me, only me, and calling any of my parents would be like breaking that trust again.


"Throw it away, Johnny, please throw it away."


I held my brother tighter, and my heartbeat raced when his shivering intensified. "Throw what away?"


Kevin sniffed, then let out a soft moan. "The music box," he said. "Throw away the music box."


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