title: Sleep With One Eye Open: Shadow
author:  Beau Johnston 
description: Beau has been an avid fan of horror stories since early childhood. It didn't matter if the story came from books, comics or movies, as long as it was dark. His favourite stories were the tales that sounded like they might actually be true. As he entered his teenage years, the local library and video store featured among his regular haunts. Since his mid-teens, Beau has studied a variety of martial arts and self-defence styles. He rose through the ranks where he gained the opportunity to teach and share his knowledge. Driven by his dark imagination and the ability to phrase things in a way that people instantly understand, Beau saw an opportunity to entertain as well as educate. He combined his life-long interest in horror stories with his many years of experience in self-defence to write his first novel Sleep With One Eye Open, in 2014. Many of his readers have contacted him and said they enjoyed the story because it was told in such a way that they could easily imagine the horrific events taking place in the street outside their homes. Without exception, each one demanded to know when the sequel was scheduled for release. Devoting most of his spare time to writing, Beau completed Sleep With One Eye Open: Ghost, in September 2015. The story is more unnerving than the original, and far more devious. Beau lives on the Mid North Coast, NSW Australia, where he is currently working on his third novel. His other interests include archery, kayaking and listening to music.
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  * * *
  
  # The Three Overcoats
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Jacques Futrelle
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  This page copyright © 2004 Munsey's.
  
  
  http://www.munseys.com
  
      
      
      Etext from Futrelle.com
  
  
  Under the influence of that singular feeling of some one being in
  
  
  the room with him, Carroll Garland opened his eyes suddenly from sound
  
  
  sleep. The intuition was correct; there was some one in the room with
  
  
  him—a man whose back was turned. At that particular moment he was
  
  
  examining the clothing Garland had discarded on retiring. Garland
  
  
  raised himself on one elbow, and the bed creaked a little.
  
  
  “Don't disturb yourself,” said the man, without turning, “I'll be
  
  
  through in a minute.”
  
  
  “Through what?” demanded Garland. “My pockets?”
  
  
  The stranger straightened up and turned toward him. He was a tall,
  
  
  lithe, clean-cut young man, with crisp, curly hair, and a quizzical
  
  
  expression about his eyes and lips. He was in evening dress, and
  
  
  Garland could only admi