Strange Tales: Shudder by Daniel Morden ~ Blog Tour

Dark nights, shadows, trees bending in the wind, it’s the perfect time of year for spooky tales. Strange Tales is a collection of mystery, magic and spine-chilling short stories that will have you looking over your shoulder and jumping at the slightest sound. If you love stories that make your heart race and leave you feeling unnerved, this is the book for you! Suitable for Upper Key Stage Two and Key Stage Three, it is just right for the early years of secondary school and would fit beautifully with the gothic topic in English lessons. As a form time read aloud or to scare themselves at bedtime, so many readers will love being terrified by this book!

It’s my pleasure to share an extract from “Shudder”, one of the creepy stories in Strange Tales. Find out what happens when a young man who has never known fear leaves his father’s house to test himself and explore the House of the Devil. He has big lessons to learn about life, love and his own character.

Extract from Shudder

Once upon a time a farmer had two sons. The first could turn his hand to any task. The second – all he ever did was sit by the fire.

One evening, the farmer handed a letter to his eldest son.

‘Take this to your uncle,’ he said.

The eldest son shrank back from the letter as though it were a viper.

‘But if I go now, I will have to walk past that house in the dark! You know the house I speak of, the one they call The House of the Devil. I have heard the stories people tell of the things they have seen inside that house. When I walk past in the daytime I go to the other side of the road and make the sign of the cross as I rush by. To walk past it at night would make me shudder with fear!’

When he heard those words, the younger lad looked up and frowned.

‘Shudder…? Fear…?!’

A few weeks later the father called his sons to him and said, ‘Soon you will be old enough to make your own way in the world. What trade do you want to learn?’

‘I have been thinking,’ said the older son. ‘I want to learn how to be a farmer, like you.’

‘Good!’ said the father. Then he turned to the other son. ‘And you?’

‘I have been thinking too. I want to learn how to shudder with fear.’

‘What?’

‘Everyone talks about fear, but I don’t know what it is. Until I know what fear is, what use will I be to anyone?’

The father rolled his eyes. ‘What did I do to deserve you?’

One day, as the father walked past a churchyard, he saw the caretaker raking up the leaves between the gravestones.

‘I wonder if you can help me,’ he said. ‘My youngest son told me he wanted to learn how to shudder. I thought I would send him to the church this evening, and at midnight, when all is still and quiet, you could jump out and teach him what fear is!’

The old caretaker cackled and nodded his head.

The father went home. The younger son was sitting by the fire as usual.

‘Hey!’ said the father. ‘You know the caretaker of the church? He just died. They will bury him in the morning. His body is on a table in the church. I want you to sit by the corpse and keep watch over it until day comes.’

The lad stood up. Ash billowed from his clothes. Ash tumbled from his pockets.

‘My training begins! If I am to spend the night in church, I need something to eat and something to drink. What do they eat in church? Bread! What do they drink? Wine!’

He set off, chomping and swigging. It was night when he reached the churchyard. Mist rose between the gravestones. They leaned together as if sharing secrets. He picked his way between them, chewing and gulping all the while. The church door creaked as he opened it but he didn’t notice.

A table had been set in front of the altar. A white sheet lay over the table. Under the sheet lay the caretaker, pretending to be dead.

I have never seen a dead body before, the lad thought to himself. Perhaps it will make me shudder with fear.

He took a gulp of wine, tore off a hunk of bread and began to chew. He lifted the white sheet and peered down at the old man.

The noise of the chewing and the smell of the wine almost ruined the plan. The caretaker was furious! Where were the boy’s manners? But he kept up the pretence. He stayed as still as he could and made no sound.

In a minute, he thought, I will teach him what fear is!

The lad sat in the front pew, chewing until he’d finished the bread, and swigging until he’d finished the wine. He’d never had wine before. He stumbled around the church, lurching, hiccupping, belching. Under the sheet, the caretaker couldn’t believe the lad’s impudence!

What kind of a way is this to behave in a church? I won’t frighten him; I will give him a piece of my mind!

He threw off the sheet. The lad had his back to him, swaying back and forth, brandishing the bottle.

‘YOU!’ said the caretaker. ‘Mourners shouldn’t be drunk!’

‘And the dead shouldn’t be alive!’ BOK! He hit the old man with the bottle.

Next morning, the lad’s father came to see how his son had fared. When he opened the door he saw his son in the front pew – and there, in front of his son, he saw the caretaker’s corpse.

‘What have you done?!’

‘He was supposed to be dead, but he wasn’t, so I made him dead!’

‘Stop! Don’t tell me! I don’t want to know. Here!’ He threw some coins on the floor. ‘Take them. In return, I take back the family name. I am no longer your father, and you are no longer my son. Do what you want, go where you like, only don’t come home!’

He stormed from the church.

The lad looked at the coins and looked up.

‘It’s a deal!’ he said. ‘Watch out world, here I come! But what will I do? Where will I go? Ah! I know! I will learn how to shudder with fear!’

Every time he met anyone, he asked, ‘Excuse me, could you teach me how to shudder with fear?’

Eventually an old travelling woman said, ‘Go to Gallows Hill. Spend the night under the corpses and you will learn what fear is!’

‘Thank you, my friend! Meet me there tomorrow. If I have learned how to shudder, I’ll give you all the coins in my pocket! Which way to Gallows Hill?’

‘Take Lonely Road past The Sucking Pit, turn left at The Cave of Doom, through Gloomy Hollow, round Dark Moon Pool, over Grab Ankle Bridge, across Jenny Greenteeth’s yard, then you will see them on the gallows tree – the corpses, dancing to the song of the wind!’

Thank you to Firefly Press for inviting me to take part in the blog tour! Don’t miss the other stops on the tour featuring each of the other strange tales!