There is a place so dark, so narrow and so cold that once you step inside, only nightmares matter. This collection takes you deep into that place with thirteen new tales of horror from the twisted, fertile imagination of Darryl Dawson.
Feel yourself in the clutches of an angry ghost that rises with a teacher's carnal temptation. Taste the unspeakable delicacy of a mad ice cream man. Try to escape from a museum where the visitors become the exhibits. Lose yourself in the rhythm of the most terrifying lapdance you'll ever receive.
These unique stories of ghosts, ghouls, monsters and madmen will chill you like nothing before. You're invited to step into THE CRAWLSPACE, but be careful...you might get locked in!
Darryl Dawson is a TV news satellite coordinator and former disc jockey. He was born in Los Angeles in the mid-1960‘s, raised by teachers in Harbor City, California, and currently resides in Phoenix, Arizona. This is his first book.
Delta peered around the corner and saw the display.
It was a small stage, separated from the rest of the room by a wall of clear plastic from the ceiling to its base. A single spotlight was shining on a white, plastic lawn chair...
The woman on the stage opened her mouth without uttering a sound. Her fright-colored face darted around in all directions until it settled on a shopping bag, plain and square, standing just out of the spotlight. She trembled.
And then she began to smile. Her eyes remained wide and red and she shook her head back and forth as her quivering fingers reached into the bag. But she smiled; it was a forced, unnatural smile, wide and gruesome.
She pulled out something that looked like a hair brush, but instead of bristles it had nails, long and thick and sharp and infected with specks of rust.
The woman laughed. Through the clear, plastic wall Delta could hear her high-pitched, manic giggle. It sounded inhuman, like it was coming from a place miles away from joy or amusement. The laughter of the mad.
No horror movie she had ever endured could prepare Delta for what she was about to see.
She saw the woman plunge the nail brush into her scalp and carve bleeding furrows from her forehead down to the back of her neck, again and again, shaking and laughing, glistening red stripes dripping down her face, specks dotting her shoulders. Bleeding. Laughing...
(From "The Puppet Show")