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David Rae Stories

I’m an LDS short story writer. I write horror, ghost stories, mystery, magical realism and other genres. I write any plot that come into my imagination. Here are some of my short stories for you to read for free. I hope you enjoy them. Feel free to contact me with any comments or feedback that you want to share.

Tales that hold us together

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TURN NEITHER TO THE LEFT HAND NOR THE RIGHT

01/15/2019

Darkness would give her some cover, but in the end, there was no hiding, not from them. She’d be better to start running and keep running. Turn Neither to the Left Hand Nor the Right Anne had packed tins of food into her backpack. “Come with me?” she said. I shook my head; there was no point discussing it again. “Where will you go?” I asked. “Does it matter?” She was right. They’ll find us no matter where we hide. They are everywhere. “I’ll wait until it is dark,” she continued.
FIVE LETTERS TO SANTA

12/21/2018

she tore open the first letter. It was written on Mickey Mouse notepaper and scribbled in crayon. The kid must have been about five when he wrote it. Five letters to Santa By David Rae The great thing about homicide is what it does to retail values. We would never have been able to afford the house if it hadn’t been for the murders; two murders and a suicide to be precise. That put a big dent in the asking price, and Amy haggled it down still further. After all, it’s not everyone that
RABBITS ROMANS GOLFCLUBS

12/10/2018

"What we need is a ferret," Andrew said". "My Dad has one, but he won't let me take it in case it runs away." Romans, Rabbits, and Golf Clubs By David Rae The old Roman fort is a perfect football pitch. The boys from the town like to play there, and if I ask really nicely, they let me play with them. I am always last picked because I'm not very good, but there is nothing better than chasing after a football. There are lots of rabbits at the fort, and they have dug their holes
THE GIBSHILL WEREWOLF BRIAN HERON

12/03/2018

Lyonie shouted after him: “Aye if you don’t find any werewolves doon the Gibby try Weir Street, there’s usually some hanging aboot the aff licence!” The three of us bust out laughing. Good friend the multi-talented BRIAN HERON, musician, songwtrighter, artist, writer and camapaginer for mental health and social justice, shares his disturbing story of werewolfs, local history, and disfunctional familes. Originally posted on TALES OF THE OAK, a local community arts development project, you
The Arrival

11/27/2018

“Now lassie,” said Aggie, “ When a’ gie ye the call hunker doon an push wi aw yir might.” THE ARRIVALS JOHN AND RUTH John ushered his heavily pregnant wife over the threshold of the cottage. “Hello Mother,” he called. From the next room came a tall, thin woman dressed in a plaid shawl. “John,” the lady exclaimed. “And who may I ask is this bonnie wee lass?” Before anyone could answer, the lady, John’s mother had rushed over to a chair by the fireplace and started to plump up the
SEEING THINGS

11/19/2018

“What’s happened to me?” he asked. They don’t all speak, most of them don’t, but this one did. “I’d dead aren’t I? That car hit me, and now I’m dead." I didn’t say anything. I just turned towards the ghost and nodded my head. SEEING THINGS An extract from Seeing Things. Published in CRAZY TOWN ANTHOLOGY It is less of an advantage than you might think; seeing ghosts. For a detective, you would imagine that seeing ghosts would make it easier to solve murders. It is a help, but it is not
A Plot Hatches

11/13/2018

The Queen had sunk still further into death’s downy duvet. Her breathing had become slow and laboured and her eyes seemed to fail. A Plot Hatches Queen Harriet Eloise Pascal Amelia Grace Emerald Eve was dying. She lay panting in her huge bed surrounded by her maids-in-waiting, who fanned her and sprayed lilac water into the air to keep her cool. The doctor, Lord Surgeon attended to the Queen’s medical needs while the rest of the court stood around the bed watching nervously. The
He's Not Coming Back

11/06/2018

I should have gone home and forgotten about him and his madcap adventures, she said to herself. But then she remembered that if she had, John would most like be dead, either strangled or stabbed to death by the Quervishes. HE'S NOT COMING BACK; HE IS COMING BACK RUTH AND JOHN He’s coming back. He’s coming back, He’s coming back, thought Ruth as she sat slumped on the baggage. “Aargh,” she cried as another contraction racked through her body. He’s not coming back. He’s not coming
FOG BOYS

10/30/2018

It came in through the door, long pale wisps of cloud, like ghost fingers FOG BOYS David Rae “Don’t let the fog in,” Mum said. It came in through the door, long pale wisps of cloud, like ghost fingers. Dad sat watching the rugby on TV and Mum called us to help fold laundry. No thanks. I grabbed my book and nipped upstairs, then slipped out the window onto the roof and up to my hideout between the chimneys. I sat looking over the fog. It stretched out like a sea of. . . well, like a sea

ENJOY

A writers motivation is the pleasure they recieve from reading and a wish to share that joy. Childrens' adventures, picture books, pirates, goblins and elves, witches and wizards. We love these stories but we also love stories about far away places, ordinary people and different ways of looking at the world.

I've tried to make my stories true to life. Not in the literal sense but in the sense that they feel true and convincing. I've tried to make them enjoyable and hope that I can bring some of the joy that I get from reading to some else.

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TURN NEITHER TO THE LEFT HAND NOR THE RIGHT

FIVE LETTERS TO SANTA

RABBITS ROMANS GOLFCLUBS

THE GIBSHILL WEREWOLF BRIAN HERON

The Arrival

SEEING THINGS

A Plot Hatches

He's Not Coming Back

FOG BOYS

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