Shallow Grave (Orca Soundings)
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When they're hauled into the office in the wake of a stupid prank, schoolmates Elliot and Shannon have no idea that hiding the principal's Smart Car in the woods was the least of their problems. As part of their punishment, the pair is tasked to clean up the school boathouse. Should be an easy enough task, they figure: chuck all the broken stuff, organize whatever still works and get the weekend underway. But when Shannon talks Elliot into making a Ouija board, things take a turn for the horrifying. When the pair accidentally unleashes a dark force, they find themselves caught up in a mystery that must be solved if they have any hope of escape.
possessed shitshack? The same one that just broke all my fingers? No thanks. But I’m not so sure I have a choice. I can feel the voices inside my head. There’s no other way to explain it. They’re chewing at my brain. I can’t deal with this. “Stop,” I whisper. Nothing. “Stop.” Louder. “Stop!” I yell it this time. A piercing spike of white pain drives itself through my eye sockets. I fall to my knees, clutching my head. Shannon screams. “Aauughh! No!” I shout. In a flash, I see the little
after all that noise. I let out a ragged breath. Shannon sits back, but she keeps a hand on me. Slowly, I lower my hands. My head feels fine. Clear and painless. I sit up and flex my fingers, looking from one hand to the other. They feel fine too. No blood. No breaks. No biggie. I look at Shannon in wonder. “Are you okay?” she says. “I’m not sure if okay’s the word,” I say. “But my fingers are fine.” Shannon lets out a long breath. I look at her. “That was scary.” Shannon’s wide eyes
she’s ever been in here, and she said no. But maybe she was wrong. Or lying. Because why else would she be here? NO. A ripple of relief floods me. Somehow it’s better to imagine that she didn’t actually die inside this place. But then, if not here…where? “Where did you die?” D-O-C-K. The same dock that’s just outside the door. Shannon makes a thin noise. “Where are you now, Jessica?” I ask. “Where is your body?” No answer. “Was she strangled and dumped?” Shannon asks. “What kind of
I’m relieved to change the subject. It sounds like a depressing life. I hold the PFD out toward her. “Here. Try this one. I’m not having any luck.” “Not a chance,” she says. “I’ve had enough knots for the time being.” She stands and stretches. “What about these bins here, on the shelves?” “Check them all,” I say. “Most of this stuff is in pretty good shape, actually,” she says, pulling back a couple of tops and peering inside. “It’s just not very well organized. I think once we get it all into
whatever’s here.” “If there even is something here,” I say. My last word comes out high and thin. Is it me, or did a rush of cold air just sweep the back of my neck? I glance at Shannon to see if she noticed my sudden falsetto, but she’s getting herself settled on a PFD. I must have imagined that. God, I’m freaking myself out over nothing. The PFD’s a good idea, actually. Put something between my skinny ass and this freezing cold floor. I reach for one and stuff it under me. “Ready?” Shannon