‘3am and Wide Awake’ is a collection of 25 thrillers and chillers by prolific short story writer, Sarah England. From the demonically inspired title story, to the madness of ‘Girl in the Rain’, or the shocking sadness of ‘Rough Love’ – there is one common factor – each story will take you to the edge of the precipice, and then bring you safely back again. Usually…

Dip into revenge with ‘Retribution’, or medieval terror with ‘The Witchfinders’…Dare to invite a stranger into your house with ‘Moving In’. Can you bear the aching loneliness of ‘Burned’? Or the frightening consequences of dabbling with a Ouija board in ‘Out of the Woods’? Why is a top surgeon being haunted by a vengeful woman in, ‘A Second Opinion’? And what happened to the girl who took ‘The Last Bus Home’?

Whatever you choose – we hope you will still be reading at 3am. And wide awake…

A man diarises a trip to Italy during which he falls in love with the town in which he stays and a woman who lives there, but there’s a surprise in store for him.

Amalfi Sojourn

Mike, you there?  I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch for a while.  I’ll explain all to you later.  Right now, I’m in Amalfi, Italy.  I’ll start a word-document to diarise events and then send it to you later.

Ciao (see, I’m already going ‘native’)

……………

Sorry I left without saying anything, but things just got too much for me.  Sally and her bloody lawyer never stopped hassling me and I almost gave too much away in an effort to get them off my back.  Thankfully, my lawyer is as much a piranha as hers and he stopped me from being foolish.

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A student of journalism has to complete an assignment. The only couple willing to give their time, present much more than the offered scoop; something which will challenge the student’s mind, and pose a question, forever.

Avril Lane

It was very clear to Avril Lane, I was pretty naïve. She felt comfortable with me because of it, at ease, and thinking about it now, I think that’s why she opened up to me. I’d just turned seventeen, with so much to learn, and such a long time ahead to achieve it. But I had ambition early on.

“Do you want a scoop? All journalists hunger for a scoop these days it seems.”

“If you have one, but my assignment is more—”

“General? On old people’s points of view, on all our difficulties – no doubt, it’s been done to death already, hasn’t it?”

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Carol knows to keep her head while all about are losing theirs. But that’s easier said than done in this story of rage, revenge and redemption.

Carol

Carol wakes to the whir of a sluggish blade. Round and round it goes in slow motion, like a pendulum. The cool breeze feels good on her burning face. She’s flat on her back in a narrow bed. Where? She lifts her head to get her bearings.

Her eyes startle wide with fear when she sees him. Him — in the same room with her, just a stone’s throw away. Panic rises, but she fights it down. Don’t lose your head.

A male nurse steps near and turns off the floor fan. Blades tick-tock to a stop. “You’re in a hospital, Carol.” His voice is tired, but kind.

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A story of fate, love, happiness and bitterness, set in an Art Studio.

Through flashbacks, we learn how Justin and Julia came to the encounter, which leads to the point of no return.

Chance Encounter

Part One.

Human Form.

Julia.

She wondered how this week would go. Her palms were sweating; she was nervous about facing a naked male body and scrutinising it. Silly really. At her age, she had seen more than her fair share. She had married twice and had countless boyfriends before, during and after. She was not unattractive, not attractive and she knew she had once had immense sex appeal.

Julia had finally taken a sabbatical, after almost twenty years of working an office job, to complete the art studies she started when she was eighteen. Circumstances when she turned nineteen ended her dream of ever being good at drawing or of being an artist. She had always regretted that and yearned to pick up a pencil and sketch again. So here she was. Widowed for four years now, embarking on an art course.

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It is the hottest day of the year. Rose is stressed more than usual. She has the perfect solution for the suppressed lifestyle she has endured for years. It is not the first time Rose has thought of murdering her husband; but will she go through with it?

Ice and Roses

The delicate fragrance, which floated into the living room, filled her nostrils with disgust. Rose leaned against the open French doors glaring at her husband, as he inspected his beloved flowers in the garden. Even though it was only 11 o’ clock in the morning, the outside wall thermometer already displayed 25 degrees centigrade.

‘Put the kettle on, Rose,’ her husband said without looking up, ‘I think it’s time for a nice cup of Earl Grey.’

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CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE

Three kids, led by “Sprig,” an intelligent black runaway teen, are running away from The Law. They are escaping boredom and conformity. Hopping empty freight train cars and dodging serious trouble, they ultimately find each other, in this modern mini-take on Huckleberry Finn.

Sounds of Daylight

We’re bein’ chased an’ we can’t get caught: Three renegades on tha run.

I, Sprig, was sitting in tha trees again—I’d almost fallen clear ta my death in one last week, when we were crossing tha Oregon/Washington border on tha hot-shot freight train which we’d hopped in North Portlan’.

We was tha trio of trouble; tha reckless quorum; tha Crew: Me—Sprig; Johnny D., an’ Donna. Sprig’s my nickname ‘cause I’m Jamal Sprigger; it came real natural. Then thare’s Johnny D. He’s tha weirdo in tha pack, if one could be indentified in this particular group as a weirdo. He’s weird, mainly, because he’s rich.

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Matt and Julia have had an argument, but she won’t tell him what it’s about. Maybe his double life is finally catching up with him…

Spying

Matt knocked at the door. Julia opened it after a long pause and looked distinctly displeased to see him. He raised an eyebrow before gathering his thoughts.

“Hi, I’m back.”

“I can see that,” she said frostily.

He went to kiss her on the lips but she pulled away and went back into the flat. He shrugged and followed her in. He paused in the living room, looking at some home made rugs which hung over the back of the sofa. He waited for her to speak. She didn’t. Nor did she meet his eye.

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When a provocative female catches her Peeping Tom neighbour watching her from the house across the street, she hides herself from view. But when she sees his front door wide open and hears a noise within her house, she fears his obsession has progressed to the next level.

The House Across the Street

Hannah glided across her spacious living room with a towel draped over her body and another over her soaking hair, and yet still somehow managed to move with elegance. She picked up her nail varnish and applied some finishing touches. Decorative and flamboyant, just the way she liked them.

She grabbed the remote from the small coffee table that occupied the centre of the room, switched the TV on and began to channel surf.

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1940′s London, the doctor shares a story about a musician who has had his genius stolen from him. Who would have thought it would end like this?

The Man Who Lost His Genius

The Doctor turned away from the window, letting the thick curtain fall back into place.

“A foul night,” he reported, “still snowing hard.  I hope those devils leave me in peace, or at least until the morning.”

The Colonel grunted.  “Don’t know why you fellows even start a job like yours.  Life’s not your own.  Why didn’t you take up music like your father?”

Doctor William Claymore laughed. “No use to me, Colonel,” he replied.  “I’m next door to being deaf mute where music is concerned.  Still, so was the old man in his youth.  I suppose you can train your ears to distinguish one note from another.”  His voice sounded very doubtful.

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ADULT CONTENT

Jayden is a problem child. He exists in a world where every child doesn’t matter. He acts how he pleases because he feels uncared for. Until he meets his new mentor…

The Mentor

Jayden tested the seat of the chair with the weight of his hand before sitting down. Couldn’t be sure of any of the chairs in this school. Or tables, for that matter. He sat and waited, silence surrounding him, staring at the yellowing walls at either side. A display piece caught his eye; the A4 paper was supposed to be a newspaper front page announcing the death of someone called Macbeth. The corners of the paper were curled and a rip ran through the bottom third of the dull white paper and faded ink. He caught sight of the bottom left corner, which had a name and date: Daniel Daley, 19th November 2012. 2012?

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Andrew Gray takes a job at a chemical firm only to discover tensions are seething just beneath the surface, but with espionage and false identities who if anyone can he trust?

The Other Hand Outstretched

The train carriages were comfortable, but the seats were arranged so that no more than four people could fit. Andrew Gray slid open the last door in the aisle and smiled at the man and woman already seated there.

He knew the man as the Head of Science Affairs, but he didn’t know the young woman. The pair of them ceased whatever conversation they were having, but only the woman smiled as he sat down. A faint scent of carnations reached him. He looked again, but the difference between the older man and young woman remained as stark as before.

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CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE

The narrator is having a great day until he realizes he’s being followed. Three guys suddenly have him pinned against a wall. Tension ensues and he thinks he’s doomed, until he comes to the conclusion that maybe he’s more clever or perhaps braver than he’d suspected. He makes a move.

The Other Side of Things

I realized they were following me after getting off the 43 Bus at Macarthur and Piedmont Avenue: two black guys, and whitey—in the middle.

Heading toward the coffee shop, Arbor Café, I had about ten blocks still to go.

The two black guys were huge: red beanies over hardened eyes. Brows like suspicious wives. Whitey wore a withered Giants jersey and a black beanie; he was shorter than the other two. Telegraph Avenue was approaching—if I could make it, I’d be alright.

They’d sped up.

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Mark’s great adventure would take him places few others dare go. As he completes his tenth expedition, Mark laments; what a shame no one understood he was the most extreme of sportsmen. In the office he was like a panther on a farmyard, no one understood his greatness.

The Psycopath’s Great Adventure

Once Mark Harrison decided on his next great adventure he began unravelling the details like a work of art for his office work buddies. Really wonderful, he thought it was.

The first step was to inform Genevieve, the bucktoothed receptionist. She was a ferocious gossiper who wore headache-bright lipstick, but the extreme sportsman would use her to achieve his gains. Oh, yes, how he loved to see the awe in their eyes.

“Will you really run that gruelling marathon in Turkey?”

“How’d it feel to stand on the top of Everest?”

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The year is 1909 – the place, a picturesque village in England. The narrator of the story, a local attorney, tells the tale of a man who purchased a haunted house, with the express purpose of frightening his wife to death so that he could live as he pleased with his young mistress.

The Solicitor’s Story

Extract from some notes written by Victor Slater, solicitor, one evening in the summer of 1909.

I have just come back from another of those awful visits.  Every time I go, I wonder what makes me do it; each time I make a firm resolve never to go again – always these resolutions are broken.  Each time I come back nauseated, and the horror of the place has me in its grip.  The following day – and tomorrow – I fear will be the same.  I go over my recollection and ask myself what it is that holds such repugnance for me, and never is there a satisfactory answer.

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Never pay a blackmailer. Kill them instead.

To the Smallest Detail

It’s better to kill a blackmailer than to pay them. Everyone knows once you start paying a blackmailer, it never stops. You can’t go to the police. He wouldn’t be blackmailing you unless he knew you couldn’t, or more likely thought you couldn’t. Either make payments for the rest of your life, or go to the police. Whichever option you choose, you have to look at it as just the cost of doing business. Not everyone knows that, but that’s what it comes down to. This situation will continue until the cost of doing business becomes too high.

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