Free Strange Dominions: a collection of paranormal short stories (short story books) by David Calvert Page A

before was there again, skulking behind the hedgerow that overhung the cemetery railings. Visibly shaken, she snapped shut the curtains as he pulled down the brim of his fedora and slipped deeper into the shadows.
    Double-checking that every door and window was firmly secured, she took up her studies again, but the disquieting thoughts of her Peeping Tom persisted. After only a few minutes at her laptop she gave up on her thesis and pulled down the lid. It seemed pointless to continue when her mind was clearly elsewhere.
    Shoving the laptop to one side, she leant forward and picked up the silver framed photo of her late parents. A solitary tear traced its way down her cheek as she stroked the glass.
    Even the prospect of a good night’s rest was slim. Over the last several weeks she had been plagued by nightmares and she feared what new terrors awaited her. Only now could the twenty-year-old fully appreciate how isolated she had become. Her diffident nature and the recent death of her parents had left her friendless and alone. There was no one to whom she could turn for help.
    The sudden blare of a passing car’s horn shook her from her thoughts.
    ‘What a mess,’ she thought as she took in the piles of discarded books scattered about her, “What was it you used to say, mom; ‘a place for everything and everything in its place?’”
    Returning the photo to its rightful spot on the coffee table, she began the onerous task of tidying up after herself. Within minutes her chore was done and, reluctantly, she made her way to bed.
    The next morning she awoke bathed in sweat and with the odour of urine in her nostrils. Even an early shower could not wash away her sense of debasement as she sobbed, pulling the sodden sheets from her bed.
    There seemed neither rhyme nor reason for the nameless horror that pursued her through the labyrinths of her dreams. Even the recent appearance of her stalker could not account for her nightly terrors. They had begun long before she had even become aware of him.
    Shortly before 8:30 a.m. she heard a gentle rapping at her door. Un-securing the safety latch, she opened up. Outside stood a tall, brindled haired man carrying a briefcase. He looked to be in his early thirties.
    He smiled warmly, enquiring, “Miss Eve Landru?”
    Eve regarded him with suspicion. “Yes. Can I help you?”
    The stranger looked with pity on the careworn, young woman framed in the doorway.
    “The thing is, Eve, I think that I may be able to help you,” he said, releasing the catches on his briefcase.
    “I’m sorry, but whatever it is you’re selling I’m not interested. Now if you don’t mind I ha-”
    “Oh, but I’m not selling anything. I’m merely conducting enquiries into this man’s whereabouts,” he cut in, pulling a worn photograph from the briefcase and handing it to her. “I think you may have come across him recently.”
    “Yes. I remember him!” - looking again at the photograph - “It’s hard to forget those creepy eyes. He was here a few weeks ago selling religious tracts or something.”
    Handing it back to him she added, “He was very pushy and wouldn’t leave until I’d bought something from him. He had a curious name, too…”
    “Wormwood? Eli Wormwood?” he interrupted.
    “Yes, that was it! You’d think I would’ve remembered a name like that, wouldn’t you Mr …?”
    “Forgive me,” he said, “my name’s Kahn, Emile Kahn.”
    Eve noted the lack of a formal title preceding the name. “Oh, so you aren’t from the police then?”
    “No, I’m not,” He shuffled uneasily on his feet. “But it is true to say that I’ve been keeping my eye on you for some time now.”
    Eve’s heart almost burst from her chest. “Oh, God! You’re the creep whose been following me around!”
    A pre-emptive foot in the doorjamb stopped her from slamming the door in his face. He grimaced in pain, dropping his briefcase. “Please wait! You’ve got to understand, you’re in great