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Tales of the Macabre (Book 1) | Paperback

Tales of the Macabre (Book 1) | Paperback

Escape into the page-turning horror series enjoyed by over 3,000 readers.

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  • Enjoyed by over 3,000 readers.

Newton’s macabre tales span continents, with sixteen stories from the 17th century to the distant future, from Nepal, through Europe and South Africa. Some stories contain elements of humour, love, and passion, but all are imbued with soul shattering terror.

  • Held captive in her father’s basement, Amelia struggles to escape. But reality isn’t always what it appears to be and soon she will learn an earth shattering secret.
  • When the black fog rolls in, death follows. In fifties Grimsdyke, two lovers encounter a horror unlike any other.
  • Four teenagers hired to perform at a country fair soon realize they were each chosen for a very specific and ominous reason. How far will they go to survive?
  • Evil has awakened in the London sewers. Mick must navigate a perilous underworld of gangs, crime, and betrayal to defend his sister and save her soul from the corrupting influence of the red smoke.

Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1 brings you sixteen spine-chilling tales. As you travel through time and space, you’ll witness horrific consequences, mind bending paranormal activities and good people who took a wrong turn.

Each story is unique and offers a different perspective. So cradle your drink, and get comfy, because you are about to pierce the veil and witness the true nature of horror!

Praise for Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1
"This book was full of nail-biting moments. The book was full of variety that kept you engaged and wanting to read the next story"
"Newton Webb never disappoints. His debut collection includes most of his best stories, spanning a huge amount of time and going through a great variety of settings. Some are novelettes, others more of a typical short story length, always well written, with a fantastic use of the English language"
"These 16 scary stories are really, really good! My absolute favorites of the bunch were Festival of the Damned and The Heir Apparent (man, what a twist I was NOT expecting!)"
"This was a very enjoyable collection of eerily prophetic stories, full of variety and encompassing a world of demonic entities, cannibalism, ghouls, murder, ancient curses and deviant sex addiction. From folk horror to supernatural sci-fi tales, what more could you wish for? Each story slowly unfolds with a sense of unease and menace, complimented by many unexpected twists and turns. The moral theme of these stories would appear to be, 'be careful of what you wish for'. Highly recommended"

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Meet the Author

Newton Webb was born in RAF Halton, England, in 1982. He has worked as a computer programmer and a table top games designer, but now writes horror full time.He has a pet tortoise called Gill and two pet venus fly traps called Frank and Audrey II.

Read A Sample

Chapter One

The Grimsdyke Ghouls, by Newton Webb

Note: The following extract is from an 18th-century diary purchased from an antique shop in Grimsdyke.


3rd October, 1747
Father lost his job today. We had to flee Grimsdyke. I don’t know what happened. Nobody would tell me. Now they want to arrest him. Mother is furious. We have no coin and precious little food. Mother filled a cooking pot with utensils and I took my journal, writing roll and of course, my Bible.

4th October, 1747
We live in the caves now. Mother is dreadfully cross with Father. It’s cold and wet by the sea. We can’t have the fire outside in case it is seen, and the caves get too smoky if the fire is lit for long. I am so hungry. We have boiled some seaweed and some crabs, but Father can only forage after dark. I help him when I can as he doesn’t see as well as I do at night.

11th October, 1747
I was out last night, foraging as usual, when a fisherman found me as he walked home across the beach. He was awfully kind, but Father was scared he might have told others where we were, so he hit him with a rock. When I started to cry, I was slapped. We have to be quiet. I helped Father carry the body back to the cave. Mother and Father are arguing now about what to do with him. They don’t have the tools to bury him. I am reading the Bible now by the light of the fire. It is my only solace. I am so hungry.

Mother has come to an agreement. She is… It is nauseating to even write it. She is butchering the corpse. Heaven help us. It smells so good on the fire. I hate myself for even feeling temptation. Satan stalks us, I am sure and is pleased as we tumble ever closer to his embrace. I will not join him.

12th October, 1747
Mother and Father have stopped arguing now and have become inseparable. They bonded over their ghoulish feast last night and have come to terms with their new life. The bones wouldn’t burn in the fire, so the blackened skull sits atop the pile and judges us. I judge us. The remaining flesh sits in the pools of seawater to pickle. The caves reek. I welcome the smoke now.

My parents are laughing now, more in love than ever. Father is talking about where he can find more flesh. What have we come to? I will not join them.

14th October, 1747
The hunger has left me weak in body and spirit. My teeth are loose, and my body is gaunt. Father had brought back the carcass of a smuggler, along with three barrels of rum. Finally, I couldn’t hold back anymore. God help me, I gnawed on a freshly roasted piece of flesh. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever tasted.
Then I remembered what it was and violently vomited it up. Mother and Father were filled with rage. They beat me for wasting food. They beat me for acting as though I was better than them. But I am better than them because I can still resist the Devil’s temptation.

I know now what I must do for the sake of our immortal souls.

They are asleep. I apologised profusely. God forgive my deceit. I congratulated them on their cleverness. They celebrated their good fortune with the rum and I refilled their cups again and again. They made me wait outside in the rain while they engaged in carnal congress.

I spent the time wisely, gathering all the driftwood I could find, both dry and wet. When I returned, my parents were sound asleep and snoring. Father still had his trousers down. I waited to be sure then bound their hands and feet. I banked up the fire with wet wood until the cave was thick with smoke. Taking a brand to the pile of dry timber I’d left by the entrance, I blocked the cave with another fire. It was hot and fiery, a precursor to our inevitable fate. I hope that I can explain my actions to them when I see them again in Hell.

They woke from the coughing, but their cries were already weak. I put the last of the wood on the fire and sat sobbing outside until they fell silent. Lord have mercy on our souls.

15th October, 1747
Jeremiah found me on the road, weak from hunger and exhaustion. He is a sweet-hearted man, a widowed carpenter. I praise the Lord for sending him to me. He confessed to me whilst he nursed me to health that he cannot read, write or do sums. I have promised to repay his kindness by minding his home for him and managing his books.

He may not be fair of face, but he is noble of spirit.

And he looks delicious.