"Shaun Hutson - Shadows" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hutson Shaun)

danced in the blackness. He raised both hands to his head and sucked in a deep
breath.
'No,' he rasped.
When he opened his eyes again the corpse was gone. Nothing remained in the
bath but the water. No bloated body. No deceased look-alike. Just water.
Blake swallowed hard and reached out a hand tentatively towards the surface of
the water, staring intently at it as if he expected the apparition to appear
again.
He heard soft chuckling and snapped his head around.
It was coming from the bedroom.
The writer felt peculiarly vulnerable and he found his breath coming in low,
irregular gasps. He edged towards the bathroom door gripped by a hand of fear
which tightened its hold as he drew closer.
Again he heard chuckling.
By this time, his fear had gradually become anger and he stepped into the room
without hesitation.
It was empty.
He walked across to the bed. Checked the wardrobes. Passed through into the
other part of the room which served as a sitting room.
Empty.
Blake looked around him, wiping perspiration from his
face. He was alone in the apartment. He headed back towards the bathroom but,
as he reached the door he slowed his pace, his eyes scanning the bath
anxiously.
There was no corpse floating there.
The writer licked his lips, finding that his mouth was dry and chalky. He
crossed to the sink and spun the tap swallowing large gulps of cold water,
then he turned towards the steaming tub once more.
The water looked inviting enough but it was a long time before he would step
into it.
Oxford
'There was so much blood. It was everywhere. All over the floor and the bed.
There was even some on the wall. It wasn't at all like you see on films or the
television. When I shot her in the face her head just seemed to cave in and
then the blood started spurting everywhere. I suppose that's how it got on the
wall over the bed, it was like a fountain, especially from her neck. I suppose
that's where the pellets hit her jugular vein. That is the big vein isn't it?
The jugular? You see when you fire a shotgun at someone from close range there
isn't time for the shot to spread. A shotgun cartridge is full of thousands of
little lead pellets but, when you fire from close range, well, it all comes
out in one lump. And I was standing very close to her. I had the barrel about
an inch from her face.
'There was some thick, sticky looking stuff on the pillow. It was sort of
greyish pink. I think it must have been her brain. I'd seen sheeps' brains in
butchers' shops and it looked a bit like that so I suppose it must have been
her brain. Anyway, when I went to move the body this sticky stuff got on my
hands. It felt like ... like porridge. I left her on the bed in the end.
'The baby had woken up, I suppose it was the noise of the
gun. It was crying, not loudly, just the way it does when it wants feeding. F
went into the nursery and picked him up but he wouldn't stop crying. Perhaps