The Story Collection: Volume Two Read online

  © Matt Shaw

  The right of Matt Shaw to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any format without written consent from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for insertion in a magazine, newspaper or broadcast.

  The characters, and story, in this book are purely fictitious. Any likeness to person

  FROM THE SAME AUTHOR

  Love Life

  The Vampire’s Treaty

  (The Peter Chronicles)

  Happy Ever After

  G.S.O.H Essential

  A Fresh Start

  PETER

  All Good Things

  9 Months Book One

  9 Months Book Two

  9 Months Book Three

  Non-Fiction titles

  im fine

  PlentyOfFreaks

  Wasting Stamps

  Self-publishing: Releasing your book to the digital market

  Short Story Collections

  Scribblings From a Dark Place

  Reviews, Critics & Mystery Shopping

  The Story Collection: Volume One

  Novellas

  Smile

  The Dead Don’t Knock

  Writer’s Block

  Buried

  The Last Stop

  The Chosen Routes

  A Christmas to Remember (YOU choose the story)

  Romance is Dead

  The Breakdown

  The Cabin

  Picture Books

  I Hate Fruit & Veg

  IN THIS BOOK:

  BURIED

  THE DEAD DON’T KNOCK

  THE BREAKDOWN

  ROMANCE IS DEAD

  A word from Matt Shaw

  Technically ‘a word’ from Matt Shaw is a lie. There’s several hundred words here, from me, but I felt ‘Loads of words from Matt Shaw’ sounded a little unprofessional. Anyway, not important...I just wanted you to know I’m aware this is more than ‘a word’. Let’s start again...

  Here I am again! Still writing for you fine people! Well...Writing for you and for me, to be fair, as I find it quite therapeutic; putting my stories down for others to enjoy (or ‘hate’, can’t win them all).

  Before I let you loose in this collection, I’d just like to take the time to thank you for continuing to support my work. I’ve always enjoyed storytelling and yet I never once dreamed so many people would be willing to read them. To know there’s a few of you out there who have read most of what I do fills me with a happiness words can not begin to describe - even for someone who does this for a living. I’d like to buy you all milk and cookies. Don’t get me wrong...I won’t...Not yet anyway...Not because I’m a misery guts...Just because I need MORE of you to read my books and this is where I’m going to do a little bit of begging (and you’ll have to forgive me) but, if you have read my work and enjoyed it, please do tell your friends about me. Please do tell them about this weird writer bloke who gave up everything back in February 2012, knowing he didn’t have a penny to his name, to pursue this as a full-time career. Please tell them to pop over to my Facebook page. Please tell them to pretend to like me. See, I’m a delicate little flower and it really would mean the world to me.

  Anyway, with that guff out of the way...Thank you for buying this book. I do hope you enjoy it. I had a lot of fun writing the titles in this story...Well, I say that but I have to confess ‘Romance is Dead’ was a nightmare to scribble my way through for it’s written through the eyes of a woman and women, I’ve come to learn, are complicated creatures. Scary too. Still, with that to one side, I have to say I’m extremely happy with the way the story came out.

  Out of this collection it would be hard to choose a personal favourite as I do, honestly, love them all. If push came to shove, though, I’d have to probably side with ‘Buried’ or ‘The Dead Don’t Knock’ with ‘Buried’ being ever so slightly in front.

  Again that’s not to say ‘Romance is Dead’ and ‘The Breakdown’ aren’t good stories. ‘Romance is Dead’ is safe territory for me given it’s theme and the overall darkness of the story. If you’ve read any of the Peter books you’ll know where I am coming from. ‘The Breakdown’, on the other hand, is something completely different from what I normally write and one reader even went so far as to say it was their favourite, despite it only being a short story. Truth be told, when I wrote it, I wasn’t even sure I was going to release it as a standalone story although, now I have done, I’m glad because the reaction has been mostly positive (again, you can’t please everyone).

  Anyway, that’s quite enough waffling from me. I don’t want to go into too much detail with the stories as I don’t wish to ruin them for you. I do hope you enjoy them, though!

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  THE

  STORY

  COLLECTION

  VOLUME TWO

  BURIED

  Okay. I’ve stopped panicking now. Not because I’m not scared. I just know panicking won’t help the situation. It’ll only serve to make it worse. Need to try and remain calm for as long as possible. Control my breathing. Save my oxygen. It was only natural to be scared. Waking up, like this, anyone would have been. Nothing to be ashamed of. Being scared doesn’t help, though. Not in situations like this. To survive, you have to be strong.

  My sister proved this a couple of years back.

  I wonder, is it the same people? Targeting the family again because they were so quick to pay up the last time? Mum and dad’s desperation to get their precious daughter back only serving to show them as easy targets for ‘repeat business’. Has to be the same group. Has to be. They were never caught and the media were kept out of the loop, thanks to the Police. Even when it was over, nothing was ever reported. Big coincidence for another group to try their luck, too. Whoever it is - they should have done a little more homework. Kidnapping the black sheep of the family can’t be the smartest of moves.

  Saying that, I wonder what my going rate will be? If they ask for the same rate as my sister - I’m a dead man...

  Don’t.

  Don’t think like that.

  You can’t think like that.

  I’m sure every parent has their favourites. It doesn’t mean they’d turn their back on the other children. Certainly not in a situation like this. No parent would willingly let their child go through this. Even so, I wish I had spent more time with my dad and shown more interest in what he does. Maybe then he’d have loved me as much as my younger sister....

  I felt my eyes well up.

  Need to stop thinking about my family. Put those thoughts out of my head too, along with the nagging thought of dad not deeming me worthy of the ransom money. I don’t need to miss my parents... or my sister. I’ll be seeing them soon. I know I will.

  I know I will.

  I breathed in and coughed. The air in here is stale. I hope I’m not in here for long.

  Please, dad.

  Don’t let me be here for long.

  Please.

  I started to cry.

  Helpless.

  FROM THE BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF

  ‘SMILE’ AND ‘THE DEAD DON’T KNOCK’

  BURIED

  CHAPTER ONE

  I woke with a start as my bedroom door crashed against the wall and my sister, Kayla, came running in shouting, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!”

/>   Before I had time to respond, or even wake up properly, she grabbed the duvet and pulled it from me. The cold January air hit my body like a sledgehammer. She screamed before I had a chance to cover myself.

  “Oh God! How long have you slept in the nude for?! Is there any way I can un-see that?” She threw the duvet back over me, helping to cover my embarrassment as well as my modesty. When I was properly under the duvet again, she jumped onto the bed next to me. “Happy Birthday,” she said - in calmer tone thankfully as all the screaming wasn’t the best of wake-up calls. She gave me a kiss on the cheek.

  “Thanks, Kayla. Do I get a present to go with the rude awakening?”

  She looked sheepish.

  No present for me then.

  “Is my sisterly love not enough?” she asked after a slight pause. A pause, no doubt, which was required ‘thinking-time’ to come back with a suitable answer.

  I looked her up and down, “Does it come with a receipt?”

  “You cheeky fuck!” she said, with a playful punch on my arm - thankfully shielded by the thickness of my duvet. “Anyway, it’s time to get up... you’re missing the best part of the day!”

  “What time is it?” I rubbed my eyes.

  “Half-seven....”

  A late night wasted online, chatting to friends overseas, made any time before ten o’clock seem offensive - especially considering tonight is likely to be a late one too. Which reminds me...

  “So are you coming out tonight then?” I asked. “Not every day your big brother celebrates turning twenty-one!”

  I watched as Kayla’s mood took an immediate turn. I thought that might have been the case but still felt as though I should have asked. I didn’t want her thinking she wasn’t invited.

  “I can’t,” she said quietly. “I’m broke at the moment. Maybe next time?”

  “Next time I turn twenty-one?” I laughed.

  She smiled, “You don’t mind?”

  I shook my head, “No. No fun watching everyone else getting drunk if you can’t afford to join in too!”

  The money was just an excuse. If she wanted to come, she would have. Even if it meant asking the ‘birthday boy’ to borrow some cash. Not that she’d have to ask me - mum and dad would have given her some spending money. Probably grateful that she’d be leaving the house. Going out for a change. Since... since that night... she doesn’t go out anymore; near enough become a hermit - with the exception of popping out to the local shops for a magazine or sneaky bar of chocolate.

  “We don’t have to go out,” I said.

  “What?”

  “My friends and I could hang out here...”

  “No, no... go out... have fun... you’ve been looking forward to it.”

  Before I had a chance to reply, my mum came through the door with a card in her hand and a big smile on her face. “Where’s the birthday boy?!”

  Next year, for my birthday, I’m going to ask for a door lock. In fact, might even start believing in Father Christmas again - see if he can bring me one.

  Kayla shifted over, on the bed, allowing mum to sit next to her.

  “Happy Birthday,” she said as she kissed me on the cheek. She handed me the card.

  “Thanks, mum. Should I wait for the old man?”

  Awkward pause. No sense waiting. He isn’t coming.

  “He had to go to work early. Some sort of problem....”

  Always a problem when there’s a family function centering around me. His precious office could be on fire for Kayla’s birthday but he’d still be here for her. I just can’t remember whether it’s always been like that.... or just since..... did he treat us the same before that happened, I wonder. Can’t recall. I’m happy for Kayla, though. Not because of what she went through - if indeed that’s what it took to get dad’s attention. She just deserves it. Couldn’t ask for a better sister.

  “What you staring at?” she asked.

  I laughed. “Something real ugly.”

  Didn’t even realise I was staring.

  “Come on!” mum tapped the card in my hand. “Hurry up! I have to get to work!”

  I flashed her a smile and ripped the card open; a generic card. Not even one with the number ‘twenty-one’ on it. Inside a message, written from mum just like every year, wishing me a happy birthday - hoping I get all that I deserve. Three kisses. The two outer kisses larger than the middle one.

  “Like it?”

  I nodded.

  “Thanks, mum.”

  “Oh, and your dad wanted me to give you....” she fished in her trouser pocket and handed me a small key, “... this.... nearly forgot!”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  She nodded towards the bedroom window, “Have a look.”

  I gave her a ‘look’. Had they really?

  “Go on, I don’t want to be late for work!”

  I turned to Kayla and pointed to a pair of trousers hanging over the radiator, “Can you pass me my jeans?”

  “Oh God, yes!” she said, with no hesitation. She jumped up from the bed and fetched the jeans, before handing them to me.

  I put them on, under the duvet, and jumped from the bed - to look out of the window. There, sitting on the drive, was a brand new Mini. Black body. White soft-top roof. Black alloy wheels. Sexiest car I’d ever seen. Inside, I could see it was filled with balloons - each one looked as though it had the number ‘twenty-one’ on it.

  “Are you serious?” I turned to mum.

  “You like it?”

  Kayla joined me at the window, “I best get the same for my twenty-first birthday!” she said - a hint of jealousy in her voice. And rightly so. The car was....is....gorgeous. “Although....maybe not in black,” she said. At the age of nineteen, she has a couple of years wait yet.

  I turned to mum and gave her the biggest hug I could, squeezing her tightly. I kissed her on the forehead, “Thanks, mum, it’s awesome.”

  “Good, I’m glad you like it.... but don’t start thinking you’re taking it out tonight! We’re not having you done for drink driving!”

  “If you need a lift, tonight,” said Kayla, “I could always drop you off. I mean, unfortunately I don’t have my own car, yet, but... well, I guess I could always borrow yours... you know, to help you out...”

  “You forget I’ve seen your driving!” I said, a nervous laugh escaping my mouth. “But... thank you.... you know, for your kind offer.”

  Mum leaned across and gave me another kiss, “I’m glad you like it, honey, just promise me you won’t be showing off in it - trying to impress your friends!”

  “I promise...” fingers firmly crossed in my mind. Obviously I’d have to give the car a little test. See what it can do. Just one little test.

  “But I really must go now, or I’ll be late.”

  “Want a lift?” I offered.

  Mum laughed, “And you forget, I’ve seen your driving.”

  Kayla laughed and pointed a finger directly at me, “Ha! In your face!”

  “Well, I know someone who won’t be getting any lifts anywhere if she ever needed them,” I said - a ‘fuck you’ expression on my face.

  “I’ll leave you two to it,” said mum. She could already sense where my conversation with Kayla was headed. She wished me a ‘happy birthday’ once more and slipped out of the room.

  Kayla waved mum goodbye and turned to me, “So - where shall we go then?”

  “Surely you don’t want to get in the car with me,” I teased, “not with my poor driving abilities...”

  “Aw, come on - you know I was playing...”

  “Do I, though? Your ‘in your face comment’ really hurt my feelings...”

  “Don’t be a dick!” she said. “I was just having a laugh.”

  “So you agree I’m the better driver?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I can’t hear you....” I said as I waved my new car key in front of her face.

  “Okay, okay... you’re the better driver,” she said. “Come on - where
are we going? Let’s do something!”

  It wouldn’t have mattered if she hadn’t given me an answer. I still would have given her a lift wherever she wanted. Nice to hear her excited about going out for a change - even if it was only for a drive. Small steps - ones the counselors said we should actively encourage.

  I laughed. “Let me get dressed. Oh, and I’ve thought of a birthday present you can get me....”

  “What’s that then....?”