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Her demonic Angel: and other short stories

Her demonic Angel: and other short stories
Her demonic Angel is a collection of all my short stories written thus far. I wrote this baker's dozen of short stories in a variety of genres, so there should be something for everyone to enjoy. Some tales are stranger than others, but all could be said to be different shades of dark. Despite its somewhat suggestive title, Her demonic Angel is not erotica.
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With a pounding heart, he dashes out into the street and knocks desperately on every door up and down his deserted street. He gains no answer to his frantic knocking and ringing of doorbells. Some of the house occupants hear him, but are feeling far too lazy to scramble out of their seductive beds to discover what Howard wants. Thwarted, worried and puzzled, he retraces his footsteps homeward back up the empty, silent street. He decides to jump back in his car to search for answers.

‘It feels as though I’ve been thrown into some bizarre, discarded film set. This must be some sort of dream. I’ll wake up in a minute, surely?’ he thinks, understanding nothing.

Feeling horribly alone in the world, fear squeezes his innards with an icy hand as his panic escalates. He is unaware that losing his battle with fatigue after his strenuous night-shift will be the only remedy to shifting his unease. It will also be the last thing that Howard will ever do. His fear would shoot off the scale if he were to realise this fact.

If this had been a normal day, Howard would have gratefully set off to bed as soon as he reached home. However, today is different in almost every way imaginable. He has already spent several fruitless hours driving around desolate streets, occasionally stopping to knock on doors that nobody answered.

‘Maybe Frank is awake and can help me get to the bottom of this mystery. He was on the same shift as me last night and might still be awake,’ Howard thinks, wildly swinging the car around to drive over to Frank’s house.

He hammers on the door with knuckles that hurt from all of his earlier pounding on unresponsive doors. Now used to disappointment, Howard is expecting the same lack of response that he has received thus far.

To his surprise and relief, the door opens a crack and a fearful-looking Frank peers out.

‘Oh, thank goodness you answered your door. I was beginning to think I was the only conscious person on earth,’ Howard says, quickly striding uninvited into his bemused colleague’s house.

Both men are achingly exhausted from their long night’s work at the airport. However, they have become far too terrified by their predicament to succumb to sleep.

With his words slurred with fatigue, Frank asks, ‘Have you had any ideas as to what the fuck is going on around here? I sure as hell don’t have a single clue.’

‘I was really hoping that you might have some answers or might have heard some reasons for all of this weirdness. I’ve certainly never experienced anything like it. I tried in vain to telephone an ambulance for my wife, who, by the way I can’t wake up. I’ve tried ringing relatives, friends and even random numbers, but my phone doesn’t seem to be working. Can I borrow yours?’ Howard asks.

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