For Those Who Dream Monsters Read Online Free PDF

grabbed the reins in both hands and whipped the horse on
into the dark.
    As the first light of dawn broke across the horizon, an eerie sight greeted the
sleepy village. The sleigh rolled in slowly, as the exhausted horse made it
within sight of the first farmhouse. It stood for a moment, head drooping,
blood seeping from its nostrils, its mouth, from open wounds along its flanks.
Then it dropped silently to the ground and lay still.
    In
the sleigh sat a wild-eyed woman, staring but unseeing, her black hair streaked
with white, reins clenched tightly in her bloody hands. Behind her were three
little girls. Two were slumped together, asleep. The third girl, the eldest of
the three, was awake – she sat very still, eyes wide, silent as her mother.
    “Irena?” Adam reached the old lady and touched her arm. “I’m Adam.” He bent
down and picked up what was left of Irena’s glasses. “I’m sorry about your
glasses,” he told her, handing the crushed frames back to her.
    “No
need to be sorry,” said Irena. “It’s just a little pig.”
    Adam
was taken aback. It was bad enough taking care of Krystyna’s relatives, but she
had never said that her grandmother was senile.
    Irena
read Adam like an open book.
    “A
little pig,” she explained, “a small sacrifice to make sure nothing really
terrible happens … during my visit.”
    “I
understand,” said Adam. He did not understand, but at least there was some
method in the old lady’s madness, and that was good enough for him. He paid the
parking fee at the ticket machine, and they left the building: a tall young man
pushing a trolley and a little old lady clutching a pair of broken glasses.



FISH
    Have you ever come face to face with a frightened scorpion fish? Harry
Tomlinson has. A row of venomous barbs and a pair of startled fishy eyes only
centimetres from his own, and coming closer. A flurry of bubbles as Harry’s
breath escaped him, then he was hurtling backwards and upwards as his head was
yanked out of the tank once more.
    “Where
is it?” shouted the brick shithouse of a man who had Harry by the hair, and
whose name seemed to be Tiny. Harry choked for breath, coughing up fish-tank
water and miniature pebbles. Tiny held Harry, while his buddy – a man whose
name Harry had ascertained to be Frank – punched the retching postman in the
stomach.
    “I
don’t know what you’re talking about,” gasped Harry. “I told you, you’ve got
the wrong man.” Frank signalled to Tiny to carry on. “No!” protested Harry,
fear for his beloved prickly pet stronger than fear for his own life. He
struggled violently, but a punch to the right kidney weakened his resolve and
then his face was in the fish-tank again. Harry pushed upwards against Tiny’s
beefy hand as hard as he could, then shut his eyes as his prize fish’s barbs
pierced his skin.
    This
time, as Tiny heaved Harry up, the scorpion fish came out with the postman, its
spines embedded in Harry’s cheek. Harry spluttered, gurgled, then screamed in
agony as the poison pumped from the fish’s spines into his face. Tiny let go in
surprise, and Harry slumped to the floor, clawing at his face, then screaming
some more, as he succeeded merely in pricking his fingers and pushing the fish
and its barbs deeper into his flesh. The toxin coursed through Harry’s
bloodstream and started to send his muscles into paralysis. Harry’s screams
turned to wheezing as he fought to get oxygen into his seizing lungs.
    “What’s
up with him?” Tiny turned to Frank, a quizzical expression on his bull-like
face. Just then, Frank’s mobile phone rang.
    “It’s
the boss,” Frank said, then pressed the accept button. Tiny gave a decent
impression of watching a Wimbledon Centre Court tennis match as his eyes
flicked between the writhing postman and Frank, who was starting to look
distinctly crestfallen.
    “What
is it?” Tiny asked finally, as Frank apologised to their boss for the tenth
time before hanging