I was going to post a story here to share with your kids, but I posted the only kid’s story II have had published that is scary last year…in case you missed that you can find Cat Candles Here:  CAT CANDLES

If you are in the mood to have someone tell you a story… I just posted a podcast of a story on my own website.  That story involves fatherhood – and some deep issues.  It goes too far, as many horror stories do, but without any real graphic content…and I think it’s pretty powerful.  I also think dads, in particular, will appreciate it…

That story is ETCHED DEEP – let me know what you think.

And finally…for here, another short story … a scary story about a boy whose mother made the wrong choice in a husband – more lessons for fathers here, I think – and again, not very graphic, but I’d say older kids only…maybe fourteen or so?  Like I said in the title…this is for the dads.  Happy Halloween.

To Dream of Dragons

by David Niall Wilson (First published in 365 Scary Stories)

The moonlight cut through the blinds in Nick’s room, striping the walls eerily. He had the covers pulled up as far as they would come and wrapped tightly around his feet.  Above him on the wall, three clowns kept watch over the room.  Two were smiling, but the third – the frowning clown, was the one Nick never forgot.  It watched him.  His skin felt clammy and he needed to pee, but he stayed put.
There was a soft scratching noise, and the lid of his toy box raised ever-so-slightly. Nick gripped the blankets so tightly that his fingers hurt. He watched in terrified silence.
He hated the dragon. Stan “The Man” had given it to him, “Big Stan,” his Mom’s boyfriend, back when he’d been Nicky Nicastro — right after his dad had died.  Nick hated it when anyone but his dad called him Nicky, so of course Stan latched onto it, and his mother lent her support.

Then it got worse.  Stan sauntered into the house one evening, planted  himself as if he belonged, and sat grinning down at Nicky with one hand held behind his back.
“Know what I got for you, Nicky boy?” Stan asked.
Knowing it was expected, Nick had answered, “No, sir,” with a shake of his head.
Stan swung his arm around quickly, proudly displaying a stuffed green dragon with the golden letters SVU emblazoned across its chest. San Valencez University.
“Hadn’t been for my bum knee, Nicky’ boy,” Stan rattled on, “I’d be playin’ in the pro’s now. I used to be a hell of a lineman for the Dragons. I thought you might want to have this, you know? Since I’m stayin’ here now.”
Nicky’s mother had been making shushing, negating signs with her hands, but it was too late. The secret was out, the thing Nicky had dreaded most.  “Stan the Man” wasn’t leaving.  Ever.  Stan turned his grin on Nick’s mother and winked.

“Why don’ t you go out for a bit and leave us “guys” here to talk?” he said.

“Stan…” his mother’s voice trailed off, and she tried again.  “Stan, I don’t know…”

Stan’s grin faded, and the glare that replaced it sent Nick’s mom backing toward the door.

Tears had threatened to flow at that moment, branding him a wuss, so Nick took the dragon to his room and buried his face in it, wishing himself far, far away.  While his eyes were covered, and all that existed was sound, the fight began, and his nightmare was complete.

He remembered screaming voices, his mother, Stan, his mother again.  There were tears, more screaming, and then, very loud and final, the slamming of the door. He remembered the sound of footsteps beneath his window, running toward the road, the sound of a car’s horn blaring, the sound of a scream… the silence.

After that, he remembered Stan’s words, emotionless and void of truth.
“It was an accident, boy. Don’t forget that.”
Nick hadn’t forgotten, and yet, despite keeping the secret, the dragon didn’t trust him. It crawled out of the box every night as he watched, trying to coax him into a cry, or a scream. If he gave in, Stan would appear in the doorway, his hair wild and his eyes mean.
The dragon’s claws scrabbled over the edge of the box; its long, serpentine nose followed.  With a sickening thump, it slid over the edge and dropped to the floor. Heart slamming, Nick pulled his knees to his chest and fought the scream that begged for release. The wet, slithering sound of the creature’s progress across his floor drove him beneath the covers, where he bit down as hard as he could on his lip to distract himself. If Stan appeared. the dragon disappeared. That was how it worked.
He held his breath, and, after a few moments, he noticed that the sounds were growing softer.  Screwing up his courage, he risked another peek. Maybe it was going back in the box. Maybe it was running out of whatever supernatural power fueled it and it was just a stuffed animal again, resting in a heap on the floor.

No such luck.  Nick was just in time to see a scaled tail disappear around the corner of the door to his room and into the hall beyond. As quietly as he could, he slid from his bed and followed. He was scared, but he’d never managed to keep silent so long, and he had to know what the thing was going to do.
He reached his door and peered around the corner, but it was nowhere to be seen. He heard Stan’s heavy, steady breathing, and took a deep breath of his own, then slipped into the hall and across to the big man’s door.
He saw the tail of the dragon draped across the footboard of the bed, and with his heart in his throat, he crawled a few feet closer. It was poised above Stan like a snake,  claws extended and eyes glowing.
‘Stan,” it hissed. “Stan, I’m here… I’m back.”
The voice was strange, but familiar, and Nick cowered back against the wall. He wanted to run and call the police, to dive beneath the covers of his bed and stay there until the world came back to normal, but it was too late. The dragon spoke with a warped, sibilant version of his mother’s voice, and as Nick watched in fascination, it fell silent and struck. Nick ran, then, but the image was stuck in his mind, strobing alternately with a different image, a pair of scissors, his mother’s scissors, protruding from the pasty white flesh of Stan’s neck.., his own fingers closed on the scissors.
When he reached his bed, the toy box was closed. He fell asleep almost immediately — dreaming of dragons.