by Hugh Howey
“What’s the address?”
“I dunno. It’s too long.”
“It’s not good to forget your address. What would you do if you got lost?”
“I’m not allowed out of the house until I metamorphose.”
The president’s temper broke free.
“This is no longer funny! I want to know where your parents are and how you found my private, unlisted number!”
The little boy breathed heavily into the phone.
“I dunn—”
There was a high-pitched scream, and a series of thumps.
“Hey, sis, get your tentacles off the caller! That’s mine!”
Then the line went dead.
Emily Martha Sorensen
Emily Martha Sorensen is the author of Black Magic Academy, Worlds of Wonder: A Short Story Anthology, and two online fantasy humor comics for To Prevent World Peace, and for A Magical Roommate.
She loves writing cheerful and fun science fiction and fantasy for all ages, particularly young adult and middle grade fantasy.
Emily Martha Sorensen’s Website
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Women’s Fiction
One in the Eye
Raquel Lyon
Long-forgotten sounds vibrated through the walls as I approached the run-down building. Why on earth had I decided to come? Did I really need to dredge up old memories? Could I not just leave the past where it belonged … in the past?
No. Curiosity had won out and led me here this evening.
I pushed at the heavy door and stepped inside.
“Hello,” said the middle-aged woman seated behind a table in the foyer. “Choose your name badge from the table and then it’s just through there.” She pointed to the double doors ahead. “Enjoy your evening, love.”
“Thank you,” I muttered, pinning on the badge.
I should have worn something different, something more befitting a working men’s club. My life had changed immeasurably in the time I’d been away, and I’d forgotten just how drab my home town was. I pulled down the hem of my figure-hugging dress, feeling exposed.
On the other side of the doors, old eighties tunes assaulted my ears as I tried to focus in the dim light. Women jiggled to the music as they drank and gossiped in groups, and a couple of men jumped around, as if they were still teenagers, on the dance floor.
I approached the bar. A stiff one was definitely required.
“My goodness, Suzie, look at you,” said a voice to my right, as a rum and coke appeared before me. “You look amazing; the years have been kind.”
Pity I couldn’t say the same about the voice’s owner—or the woman standing next to her—clearly only cream cakes had been kind to them. I almost didn’t recognise the chubby, wrinkly faces, and had to sneak a glance at their name badges to double-check my suspicions.
Unbelievable!
“Wow, Paula, Carol … you look great,” I lied. “How are you?”
I stared at my two former best friends from fifteen years ago. What had happened to them? They used to be so pretty; boys lined up to date them and plain little Suzie never got a look in. I couldn’t believe how things had changed.
“Never mind us. Tell us about you. You just disappeared,” Paula exclaimed.
“I moved to London for my job, and only came back a couple of months ago. Hey, isn’t that Douglas Jones over there?” I asked, nodding in the direction of a paunchy man, hugging his pint at the end of the bar. “Didn’t he used to have a thing for you, Paula?”
“Well remembered … except now he’s married to Carol.”
Carol stared into her glass. “Yeah, I felt sorry for the poor sod, hanging around all the time. He even followed us to college, but Paula only had eyes for one boy, didn’t you, old gal?”
“Alex Johnston,” they chorused in amusement.
“God, he was gorgeous,” Paula said with a wistful note to her voice. “I used to spend every lesson staring out of the window just in case he walked past. No wonder my results were so bad.” She cringed. “I knew I didn’t stand a chance with him. None of us were ever good enough, remember?” Paula’s hand came to rest on my arm and I noticed the lack of a wedding ring. She caught me looking and sighed. “Yep, no-one else has matched up to him since.” She lifted her hand, wiggling her fingers. “Still single.”
Carol twiddled with a strand of her hair. “He kissed me once … Alex,” she said, almost embarrassed.
“What?” Paula’s face was a picture. “I don’t believe you. You never said anything. I’m your best friend.”
“How could I tell you? You were so in love with him, it would have been the end of our friendship.”
Paula nodded her head. “Point taken. But you’d better be filling me in now. Come on, I can take it.”
“It was nothing really. I found his bus pass in the yard, one day, and he gave me a kiss on the cheek to thank me for returning it.” Carol took a sip of her lager. “I didn’t wash my cheek for a week,” she said dreamily.
The women looked at each other for a moment longer than usual before bursting out laughing.
“Do you remember that time we skived off school to go and see him play football for the county?” Paula asked.
I remembered.
“I had to cover for you both to Mr Hardwick,” I said. “I told him you’d developed food poisoning and gone home.”
“Oh yes,” Carol said, “and that creep, Peter Davies, spotted us and reported us, the next day.”
“You know, my Mum grounded me for a week for getting detention,” I reflected.
Carol nodded. “Yeah, we were always getting into trouble.”
“Well if you’d have kept off the ciggies …” Paula tapped a beer mat on the bar absentmindedly.
“And if you’d have got your mind off Alex Johnston …”
“Yeah, I wasted far too much good lippie trying to get his attention. I bet he’s dating a supermodel now.” Paula snorted and they both sighed heavily. “Shame he was in the year above us or he might have been here tonight. Could have had another shot! How’s the lippie?” she asked, pouting.
I had to laugh at them, still swooning over a schoolgirl crush all these years later.
Carol glanced around at the room, now filling with bodies.
“My back’s killing me stood here. Shall we get a table before they’re all taken?”
“Sorry, I can’t stay,” I said. “I was only popping in for half an hour. I have to go to a boring fundraiser at nine. My husband’s picking me up soon.”
“Little Suzie Anderson married, eh? Who’s the lucky chap?”
“I met him through work. We set up the new office together and things just developed from there. Ah, here he comes now.”
The two women stared unbelievingly at my handsome husband as he wrapped a protective arm around my waist.
“Taxi for Mrs Johnston.” He grinned.
“Paula, Carol, you remember Alex, don’t you?”
Raquel Lyon
is an English author, who writes YA fantasy and NA contemporary romance stories. Her heroines are kinda kooky, her heroes slightly devilish, and her romance a bit on the raunchy side. If the sun is out, so is she. She has a crazy sugar addiction and eats ice cubes as if they’re going out of fashion.
Raquel Lyon’s Website
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Black Comedy
One Depressed Angel
Samuel Clements
I think I might be a first. I’m a depressed angel. As a species we are generally so euphoric. We bask in God’s love. We have a sense of purpose. We are celestial, transcendent, and we sing for sheer joy whenever we are in Heaven.
I never seem to be in Heaven. Or at least only ever briefly to collect my next assignment. I’m a guardian angel. I’m the one who gives you a hug. The hug you cannot see, but somehow you feel when life becomes too much to cope with.
I seek out thos
e who have lost their way, those that are alone, and those that are in pain, and I comfort them.
Who wouldn’t love that job, right? To silently comfort someone in their hour of need? To quietly let them feel that they are not alone, that God loves them, that it will all be alright in the end; what could be more rewarding?
The problem is that I see so much suffering. I have lived thousands of years and I never get to see any of the good that happens in people’s lives. I am surrounded by grief and hurt, and the never-ending misery that humans seem to experience on a regular basis.
Why is the human world so cruel? Don’t they realize that kindness is the key?
Why do they feel sorrow so intensely when someone dies? Don’t they understand it is a natural part of the circle, and not just necessary, but actually a happy event in Heavenly terms?
Apparently not…
So I am there. I am there in their darkest hours to offer solace.
But recently I have found myself wondering if there really is any joy to be found on Earth. The people seem so unhappy, and I am just getting more and more assignments, and I am getting less and less able to offer comfort.
Instead my hugs feel forced.
I wrap my wings around a beaten human and hold her, trying to allow the angelic warmth of my being to seep into her bones, but instead her pain seeps into me. My hold lessens as I begin to question God’s divine purpose in all this misery. Then I let go completely.
I have no comfort to give anymore. I just feel sad.
I fly back to Heaven in the hope of recharging my faith somehow. I sing loudly, but I don’t feel part of the chorus anymore.
I wonder if I will be cast out.
I drop my eyes in His presence, hoping to hide my new emotions. I see a pair of sandals approach me and stop. A firm hand grips my shoulder.
“Walk with me,” says Jesus.
We set off along the cloud line. The stars above twinkle and dance. They are always happy as well.
He talks about Love. He explains it to me. The way it pushes out the darkness and the pleasure it brings to every life it touches.
“I love you and I love Our Father,” I say, hoping it will be enough.
He bestows a smile upon me. “Spread that love.”
I nod, trying to let his goodness fill me up.
I return to Earth and the woman. She is loading a gun.
I put my hand on her arm and try to imbue love.
She unknowingly shakes me off. She has a stronger purpose in mind.
I follow her into a dark and stinking building, waiting for my moment to comfort her. But she walks briskly.
We enter a dingy apartment, without any words she fires three bullets into a man sitting in an armchair. As she slumps against the door, a grin of satisfaction crosses her face. She is pleased. She is taking pleasure in his death, and I feel it.
It feels good.
It feels so much better than all the emptiness and grief I have previously encountered when faced with death.
I saw my moment all too clearly.
I put my arms around her and embraced her, taking her feelings into myself and magnifying them back to her. She began to laugh. A maniacal high-pitched laugh that echoed through the building.
I silently laughed too.
A long time later I returned to Heaven and Jesus was waiting for me. I could see the concern in his eyes, but this time I did not drop my own.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “That was not an act of love.”
I shook my head with a smile. “No, it was not. It was an act of vengeance and of hate. But it was a powerful force, and it could be used to give great comfort.”
Jesus took a deep breath.
“Don’t embrace this emotion. It is not our way.”
I shrugged, it was better than feeling depressed and doing nothing about it.
He put an arm around me. “My dear Lucifer, this isn’t a path you want to follow. Let me tell you some more about love…”
Samuel Clements
is a chef and a restauranter. He is currently writing an expose on his experiences in the industry, but he seriously wonders if the ridiculous work hours and years of minimal sleep have perhaps left him a little bit twisted…
Samuel Clements’s Website
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Paranormal — Romance
Virtual Vampire
Dulce Rolindeaux
Maddie switched on her computer and quickly typed in the address, FantasyFiends.com, then opened up her video chat line. She had taken great care with her outfit, hair and makeup and she made sure her wheelchair wasn’t visible on the webcam. Then she picked up the remote and switched on the TV to watch a movie. The site usually didn’t get hopping until later in the evening. The whole premise of the site was folks masquerading as creatures of the night. Almost no one, except Maddie, showed up before the witching hour.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when her computer chimed a chat request just 15 minutes later. It was from a Nick Noir, for vampire roleplay. She accepted the request and moments later, found herself looking at a very cute, but extremely unvampire-like guy. He was wearing a white fitted t-shirt with a sci-fi convention logo on the front and she could see by the way his muscles moved beneath the fabric that he liked to keep in shape.
His large, hazel eyes stared at her for a few minutes before he spoke. “Wow, you are beautiful.”
She blushed. “Thank you,” she said, “and you are too. I mean not beautiful but, well you know.” She wished she was playing a ghost just then so she could disappear.
He smiled at her with dimpled cheeks. “So what kind of vampire were you looking for? Did you want sparkling and broody? I’ve got glitter spray and mousse. Or did you want Old World? I have a cape and I’ve been practicing my hypno eyes. Heck, it’d take me a little while, but I could even do the bald and bumpy kind with the 6 inch fingernails if you want.”
Maddie was speechless. She had devoured all the vampire fiction she could get her hands on. She watched all the TV shows and movies about vampires too. It had never occurred to her to pick a specific vampire type. She liked them all. Well, maybe not the nosferatu but she was only human. “I don’t know, what kind of vampire do you normally role play?”
He laughed. “Well, most of the time I play the hopelessly shy computer geek vampire. But, to be honest, that one isn’t all that popular with the ladies.”
“Well, I’m no vampire, but hopelessly shy is something I know a little bit about. Why don’t we both just roleplay that tonight?”
He flashed her the devastating smile again and her heart skipped just a little. “That sounds like a deal.”
“So, where do geeky vampires take their unwitting victims on a first date?”
He thought for a moment. “Well, I saw on your profile that you like sci-fi too. So maybe I’d swoop through your window and carry you off to see ‘Space Conflict Part VII’ down at the Odeon.”
“Oh! I’ve been dying to see that one! The Odeon is just up the street from here.”
He stared at her for a moment, blinking. He opened his mouth as if to speak then closed it promptly.
Maddie really wasn’t fishing for an invitation so she let him off the hook. She leaned back in her chair. “So what would we do after the movie?”
“Maybe come back to my place for a drink?”
“Oh I don’t know about drinking with a vampire.”
“Oh no, I didn’t mean… Unless you’d want me to…”
She laughed. “A couple of cocktails and I am usually tipsy. I might just have to lay my head on your shoulder.”
“And I might take advantage of your vulnerability and try to kiss you. I am a creature of the night after all.”
“And I might just let you. Sometimes a kiss is just what we damsels need to ease our distress. I just hope I don’t cut my lip on your sharp fangs.”
“I would be more than willing to kiss it better
if you did.” He paused and absently rubbed the side of his mouth. “Sorry, where were we?”
“You were kissing the blood off of my cut lip to make it all better.”
“Yes, I believe I was.”
It may have been her imagination, but she thought she heard a slight lisp creep into his voice.
“I hope that tiny taste of my blood wouldn’t drive you mad.”
“I might have to kiss your neck and feel your warm pulse beneath my lips.”
This time he didn’t even try to hide the elongated canine teeth protruding over his bottom lip. She was surprised he was able to put them on without her seeing. “Wow, nice fangs!”
“Thank you, will you excuse me a moment?” He picked up a mug with a straw in it and held it out to her in a gesture of cheers, then he drank several deep swallows. He licked his lips and smiled again. “There, that’s better.”
It was her turn to blink and stare at him open mouthed. “Wait a minute, how did you…”
He grinned sheepishly. “I always was lousy at role play.”
“But it’s not real. It can’t be real.”
“I see you have questions. Maybe I could take you to dinner? We could discuss it over a really rare steak.”
She opened her mouth to answer and then looked down at her lap. “You know I’m in a wheelchair, right?”
He shrugged. “I burst into flames in direct sunlight. We all have barriers.” When she didn’t answer he continued. “I could pick you up in an hour. You don’t even have to invite me in. Not yet anyway.”
She nodded and they signed off.
Dulce Rolindeaux
“Among mankind,” says Beauty, “there are many who deserve the name Beast more than you, and I prefer you, just as you are, to those, who, under a human form, hide a treacherous, corrupt, and ungrateful heart.” — Beauty And The Beast~ Jeanne-Marie LePrince de Beaumont