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Austin Macauley Publishers - Brandan Araoz Maria

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35 pages

English

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Can an old folk legend from Bariloche be based on a real and verifiable fact? Can a seemingly trivial game unleash a horror story? The enthusiasm of the character to solve the inexplicable and fantastic case can lead to a spooky experience that they never imagined. But their boldness could lead them to a perilous path. Mystery, intrigue, suspense and terror are present in these stories that have curious and brave children as characters, capable of facing the danger of solving a supernatural case and finding the incredible truth. Readers, as brave as the characters, will have to be able to follow page by page involved in a suspense that seems to have no end. The Terror Games is an experience that children who love the terror genre cannot miss. As soon as they open the book and read the first paragraph, they will be trapped in this captivating reading.

Informations

Publié par	Austin Macauley Publishers
Date de parution	31 mars 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781788787932
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	6 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0175€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Terror Games
Maria Brandan Araoz
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-03-31
Terror Games About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Chapter 1 Wild Chapter 2 Nahuelito Chapter 3 The Gypsy’s Course Chapter 4 The Evil Chapter 5 The Ogre’s House Chapter 6 The Spirit Board Chapter 7 La Sortija
About the Author
María Brandan Araoz was born in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Writer, journalist and screenwriter, she published more than forty children and young adult books. The saga of Detectives , Hazardous Refuge and Night Terrors are her most successful police and horror books. She received several awards and edited works in Brazil, Peru, Chile, Ecuador, El Salvador and Puerto Rico, among other countries. Her books in Spanish are read in schools in Argentina and other Spanish-speaking countries, both at primary and secondary levels. The author maintains meetings and interacts with her readers on Twitter, Facebook, on her blog and on her page.
Dedication
To my youngest daughter, Magdalena de la Torre, who is an Australian citizen now, for encouraging and helping me to publish this book in English. Thanks a lot, Magui!
To my family; my daughters Dolores and Maria; and to my husband, Miguel E., for supporting me in my career and believing in me as a children and teenagers’ writer.
Copyright Information ©
María Brandan Araoz (2020)
The right of María Brandan Araoz to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788784115 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781788787932 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Chapter 1

Wild

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The cat turned up by surprise. It jumped from a tree onto our yard’s wall and stayed there, staring at us. Dad decided to call him ‘Wild’ because he seemed to be adventurous.
The next day, when Dad was not at home, Wild came back. His yellow eyes glared at me hatefully, he opened his mouth and roared. He stretched his legs, his claws threatening me.
Wild scared me. I asked Dad not to let him in our yard anymore. I told him he had aimed at me with his claws and that he had looked at me hatefully. In my opinion that cat was not normal!
That night I got up to look for a glass of water. I was coming back to my bedroom when something smooth touched my foot. The glass slipped from my fingers and crashed on the floor. I skidded on the puddle and a piece of glass hurt my foot. Dad woke up because of my shouting. After washing my wound, he wanted to know what had happened to me.
“I think Wild came in and rubbed my foot,” I told him.
Dad opened the shutters and looked out in the yard.
“Sophie, the poor cat is sleeping out,” he said.
The following night, I woke up sweating all over. Something was crawling on the floor. I did not dare to get up. I was sure Wild was lying under my bed, ready to attack. Covered by the sheets, I slid towards my feet. Suddenly, one of my feet uncovered and something sharp buried in the sole. I screamed and screamed until Dad ran into my bedroom.
“Wild attacked me again,” I told him and showed him my wound.
“It’s yesterday’s cut, Sophie. You crashed against the bed and it opened again.” There was nothing under my bed. Dad did not believe me this time either.
Two days after that, I went to the yard with my water sprinkler full of water. While I was watering a flowerbed I saw a sparrow, it was hard and stiff, with an enormous scratch along its body. Immediately, I heard the roar. Wild was on the wall. He jumped like a flash over my head and stopped in front of me, his mouth open and his legs stretched out, ready to attack. I threw all the water in the sprinkler at him and ran to lock myself in the bathroom. When Dad got back home, I was still locked in.
I don’t know whether Dad believed my story, but he said the cat was scaring me and the best thing to do was to move him away from home.
“I’m going to take it to the square by Malabia Street,” he calmed me down. He left with Wild and came back without him.
The following morning, I removed some soil from the flowerbed in order to bury the poor sparrow. And I found two birds. I heard a cat’s roar over my head. I ran and locked myself in the kitchen. I did not tell Dad about it, I was afraid he wouldn’t believe me.
Two days after that, an incident appeared in the front pages of all newspapers. Dozens of dead sparrows had been found at Malabia Square. The government advised parents not to take their children to that place. They had to investigate first.
Yesterday I saw my cousin Daniel (he lives opposite Malabia Square) and he told me:
“Do you know they are going to retire the guard that works at Malabia Square? They say he got mad; he says there’s a rabid cat in the square that chases him at night and wants to kill him.”
Chapter 2

Nahuelito

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It all started in January. Sophie and her parents invited me to spend the summer vacation with them in Bariloche, in the Argentinean Patagonia. They had rented a house, cheap and pretty, in San Pedro Peninsula. The best thing about the invitation to Bariloche was that I was allowed to take Tommy with me. Tommy was my dog, a German shepherd, a little crazy but a good guardian.
San Pedro Peninsula was far from the downtown area and the entire road went up and downhill. My cousin’s house had a perfect view of the lake Nahuel Huapi and was located in an area that was like a little forest with two or three dirt paths that merged with some other trails. It looked like a labyrinth! One of the paths led to the most inhabited area which had an inn; half opened, half-closed because they waited on customers only when they felt like it. And there were three or four houses with their facades made of wood, each of them with its yard and five or six fierce dogs that, the minute we walked past with Tommy tried to bite us, and we could hardly stop them.
Thanks to those awful dogs (so many against my poor Tommy!) and Sophie who had one of her strange ideas, we decided to explore an uphill path that seemed to be a bridle trail.
Tommy, who was dashing into and out of the bushes, disappeared and appeared again and again, we even thought he was going to get lost. Then he’d come back, panting with his tongue hanging out.
Sophie was the one who found the old house. “Antonia’s uncle lives here. She’s the one who bakes homemade cakes. I came with her once. He’s a fisherman.”
Tommy went straight inside to explore around. There was a man with a beard cooking some fish on fire (we could tell because of the smell). My cousin and I did not dare to get closer, although the man paid no attention to us; he was just turning around his fish, inserted in a wire and wrapped in foil paper. But the strangest thing was that Tommy did not bark. Suddenly, the man whistled strangely and called him. And my dog, who is a good guardian, did nothing! Now my dog was sniffing around the old man and let him pet his back. We walked slowly towards the hovel because I had to fetch Tommy, the old man looked at us and said hello.
As soon as she saw him, Sophie asked him: “I came with Antonia some days ago, do you remember? And this is my cousin Daniel.”
The man nodded and answered with another question. “Would you like to go fishing?” he asked.
“Do you know of a place where we can find huge trout?” I asked him.
“Of course. If you ask for permission, I can take you to the Brazo Tristeza ,” he said. “That’s a great spot to fish. The best time to fish is in the evening. We have to get ready for a good haul. I used to go somewhere else, out to the Nahuel Huapi. When I had my ship but after the accident… I have never come back to that place.”
The old man stopped talking as if he didn’t want to tell us more. Then, he added:
“Come tomorrow to the Brazo Tristeza, ” he invited us. “I’ll teach you how to fish.”
It was not easy to get permission to go, but Antonia helped us. “My uncle is a lonely man,” she explained to Sophie’s mother, “But he’s a good person. He became a fisherman when he retired from the company he used to work with. You know, ma’am, he studied geology and studied the soil, for the oil wells.”
We did not care about that, but it was important for my aunt to know that the man was educated.