From "The Butcher's Boy" by Michael Robb Mathias

The ghostly boy picked up another empty and went through the wind up again, but this time the can went over Oliver’s head and clattered into the kitchen. Oliver whimpered like a terrified child and the ghost boy grabbed at its belly and laughed. The sound that came out held no mirth though. It was a hollow gravelly hiss that was full of spite and anger.

Oliver used a hand to push himself up and tried to climb over the recliner to get away. The ghost snarled at this and reached for another can. There was no dramatic pause to check the first base runner with this wind up. The ghostly arm shot forth and the can flew across the room.

Oliver put a hand up to protect himself, but he wasn’t fast enough. This can wasn’t opened yet and when it him full in the mouth it shattered his lips as if they were grapes and broke some teeth. He threw his arms up into a cartwheel trying to keep his balance, but it wasn’t to be. He and the chair went over and the back of his head hit the floor so hard that it bounced.

From "Murder Stalks" by Sara Thacker

A hollow thud echoed behind Marissa Santos. She picked up her pace, not wanting to be caught alone in the dark stairwell. Had there been anyone in the lot when she pulled in?

Her pulse quickened when she hit the top step. She ran to her door, pulling the keys from her purse. Nervous energy caused her hand to jerk. The keys fell to the cement floor with a jangling clatter. She scooped them up, sifted through the ring, and found the one to her apartment.

Relief pulsed through her body, she was almost in. The grocery bag split as she slid the key into the lock, spilling the box of microwave popcorn onto her sandal clad foot.
“Ouch.”

The thud sounded again, closer this time. The skin on the back of her neck prickled and her hair stood on end. Grasping the bottom of the bag to her chest, she held on tight. Marissa pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold, kicking the box of popcorn as she moved. She was almost home free when two books from the library fell out of her purse.

Damn it. She should have been home before dark.

From "The Last Bature" by Kenneth C. Ryeland

Senior District Police Officer, Mike Stevens, is investigating three murders at Yula in Nibana, West Africa, but the army don't want him there...

After finding what he considered a suitable spot, Lieutenant Memeka drove the Peugeot off the track into the bush and parked it behind some large thorn bushes out of sight. He then walked back to the Yula track and began to remove the piece of cloth wrapped around his rifle. With a range of two thousand yards and a twenty-four times magnification telescopic sight, the 0.303-calibre Lee-Enfield was an ideal sniper’s weapon.

Memeka settled himself down in a dried-out storm ditch at the side of the track, some three hundred yards from a sharp bend. He camouflaged himself by placing the piece of sand-coloured cloth that he’d removed from the rifle, over his head. After looking along the track through the telescopic sight and being satisfied with the result, the lieutenant relaxed and waited patiently for the police Land-Rover to appear.