hardy boys fan fiction
WHERE NIGHTMARES THRIVE
hardy boys nancy drew fan fiction
by
Emachinescat
Chapter 1
hardy boys fan fiction
THE CHAPTERS
The sounds he longed to hear had been missing from his place of abode for far too long. He had dearly missed the screams of agony, the moans of torment, and the cries of desperation, but now…they were coming. He could feel it. And we was ready. He was always ready. Every single time.
When their hopeless whimpers could be heard throughout the trees, then he would truly be happy…for agony was his specialty.
***
Joe Hardy cursed under his breath as he tried once more to start the mud-splattered, dark green trail blazer. When the engine merely whined in reply, he shut off the vehicle and slammed his fist against the steering wheel, causing the horn to honk loudly. He muttered a few more choice words, and heard the eighteen-year-old boy next to him chuckle and comment, “Better watch your language, Little Brother. Wouldn’t want Aunt Gertrude hearing you cuss like that.”
Joe, who was seventeen years old, scowled at his brother. “Frank, this isn’t funny!”
“I know the situation isn’t funny,” Frank said seriously. “I just think that your response to the situation is amusing.”
“Okay, fine. So you can sit here and laugh while I try to find a way out of this mess.”
“Joe, it’s no big deal!” Frank insisted. “You’re getting way overworked about this.”
Joe turned and looked at Frank darkly. “Am I?”
“Yes. Look, so the car shut down. But hey, we’re not that far from the road, and we’ve got our cell phones. We make one call to Dad, he sends someone out here, and we’re home. Okay?”
Joe did not look convinced, but he calmed down. “It just seems like every time we try to have a little fun, something happens to spoil it,” he complained.
Frank put on a façade of false horror. “No!” he said in false amazement. “You’re not telling me that you no longer like to solve mysteries? That they aren’t ‘fun’ anymore?”
“I never said that,” Joe scoffed. “This doesn’t have anything to do with a mystery. I just hate that we got this rental car, and it breaks down right as we get to the mountains. I mean, didn’t Dad send us to North Carolina to get a break from it all?”
Frank and Joe Hardy were detectives that lived in the small town of Bayport. They had solved cases as minor as finding a missing cat, and as exhilirating as stopping international terrorists from blowing up a mall. However, they had been overworked lately, and their father, world famous PI, Fenton Hardy, had arranged for them to spend a quiet week in an isolated cabin in the North Carolina woods, where he used to camp when he was a kid. The boys had leapt at the oppurtunity, rented a rugged car, and had driven up to NC, where they were supposed to begin their vacation. Much to their dismay, however, the engine failed about halfway up the mountain.
Frank smiled grimly at his brother. “Right. Alright, here’s the plan. We kind of walk around, try to find out where we are. I think I can explain pretty well where we are to Dad. We call him, and we have him get ahold of someone on the PD here to pick us up. We can drive up to the cabin tomorrow morning. What do you say?”
Joe nodded, shivering. The sun was starting to set over the mountains. “Fine, whatever.”
“Scared?” Frank taunted him, smirking.
“Uh, no!”
“To tell you the truth,” Frank said darkly. “This place does kind of give me the creeps.”
The boys got out of the Blazer and began to walk in separate directions, being careful not to stray too far from their car. “Hey, look at this!” Joe exclaimed, looking at a weathered sign. ‘Nitmarr Inn: Two miles up the mountain’. “Here’s a landmark. We can get someone to pick us up here.”
“Great!” Frank said. He got out his cell phone and dialed the number. He put the device to his ear and listened, then frowned.
“What’s up, dude?” Joe wanted to know.
“This is weird. I’ve got full signal here—which is kind of surprising for the mountains—but it’s not calling. The phone’s not ringing.” He dialed again, then put it to his ear. “Wait, I do kind of hear something,” he said slowly. “But it’s not normal.”
“What?” Joe asked.
“It’s…it sounds like whispering. And nails on a chalkboard. It’s ghostly.”
Joe snatched the phone from his brother. “Whoa,” he said, taking a step back from the phone, as if frightened it might explode. That is very weird.”
“Well, it doesn’t look like rescue’s coming tonight,” Frank said ruefully. “Joe, try to start the car again.” Joe did what his brother ordered, but the car kept stalling.
“Crap,” Frank said under his breath. “Alright, bro, here are our two options: one, we go down the mountain, the way we came, and try to find help on the highway down below, or, two, we go to the Nitmarr Inn, stay the night, and get help for in the morning.”
“It’s probably a good seven or eight miles down the mountain,” Joe said slowly. “It’s getting dark and cold out here. And even though we’d be walking uphill, the Nitmarr is only two miles away. I vote the inn.”
Frank agreed, and the boys begin the slow ascent. “Wait a minute,” Joe said after about ten minutes. “Something tells me that this isn’t the smart thing to do. I’ve got a gut feeling. Maybe we should turn back.” Frank gazed up at the canopy of trees that made the dark night seem even blacker.
“No way, Joe. You’re just getting paranoid because you’re tired. Dad told us there would be small inns and stores in different places in the mountains. This is just one of them.”
Joe shrugged. The boys continued to climb.
Meanwhile, a figure stood on the porch of the Nitmarr Inn, anticipation building inside him. It was time…
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Disclaimer
The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.