Dead Souls
Page 32
We heard Jim’s bed being dragged and had a sudden hope — perhaps he was asleep and Dad was trying to wake him. But we heard something heavy land on the bed.
Dad opened the door.
He came to us, took my hand and Mum’s, and said, “I think you should look at his peaceful face,” and we did. He was Real Jim on the bed with the marks of his own socks around his neck.
All his grief was with us now.
In the papers that day, the meeting was called a triumph of the human spirit.
Great moment in the human race, it said, all things taken into due consideration. Good adults greet new adults.
The number of Screamer accidents was not reported. Mr and Mrs Thompson came over to discuss Jim and the meeting.
“Terrible thing,” Mr Thompson said. “Such a shame for Jim to suffer his accident so close to the success of the Program.”
Laura said, “Funny how those socks knotted themselves.” Her father, without turning to face her, pointed a finger directly at her. She stared. She said nothing else.
“All in all, a good birthday party,” Mr Thompson. said “All things taken into due consideration.”
It will be my birthday soon.
****
I can’t tell you what will happen in my future; and once I’m there, I may not remember my past. From witnessing Jim’s year of Screamers, I fear for my own life; I only hope I can conform. The only ones alive are the ones who are conforming now, and will do forever. The others have accidents. Screamer suicide does not exist. Why would they kill themselves when their lives are plotted for them, their behaviour planned and ordered? They have no worries. The adults say the strong human beings are left, but I say they are gone.
Dad’s really angry with Mum. She won’t share her drug.
“No one’ll know, unless you tell them,” he snarled, all angry and red-faced, standing over her as she sat on the couch watching the TV that wasn’t on.
“Everyone will know,” she said. She doesn’t seem to mind the drug, but I don’t want them to give her any more. She looks like Mrs Thompson now, like a photograph, barely moving, barely anything on her face. If I could steal her drug to give to Dad I would.
****
I woke up early this morning, excited because it was my birthday, but worried about the Blue Stream, no matter what the beautiful lady said.
Mum and Dad came into my room with a big tray of cake and lollies. For breakfast! Other years I couldn’t have those till after eggs. There were two presents.
“One for now, one for later,” Mum said. Her eyes were clear; I could tell she hadn’t taken her drug. Dad sat on the bed and grinned stupidly. I thought maybe she had a plan.
I opened the present for now. It was some old record I can’t even play because we don’t have a record player.
“Thanks Mum,” I said anyway. The other present I saved for later. Then I had to get ready for the Stream.
The guilt in my mother’s eyes was the worst. Seeing it, I knew she didn’t have a plan; other than to say goodbye. She had tried hard to keep me, and she had failed. So I suppose that’s the end of me not going into the Blue Stream.
Mum did her best.
We went to many places, even the headquarters of these people called “Freedom Stream”. But they had no plans of action — they talked a lot, that’s all. They still sent their kids to the Stream.
Finally we caused a bit of fuss at the Minister’s office. We got taken away by police. Mum got taken away and I got a talking to, by the beautiful lady with her hair in a bun, soft and fluffy around her face like a princess.
“The Stream is a place of beauty,” she said. It made sense that she would know, she was so lovely.
When Mum picked me up she looked beautiful, too.
She didn’t take her drug because she wanted to know, to experience the farewell, feel the pain.
I wept for an hour in her arms, saying goodbye. I didn’t know if she would be there when I returned. It would depend. If she had a moment’s selfish thought, she would have an accident. She wouldn’t want to see me. But I would want her, need her to be there as I emerged from the womb so unlike hers.
I couldn’t say I love you.
****
I always thought the Blue Stream would be out in the country, in the open, just covered with a perspex bubble to protect the floating, growing children inside. Where else would you find such a Stream? They even showed us pictures from a plane of the Blue line stealing across the land. But they took us to this big old building; there were heaps of them, all these huge old buildings I’d never noticed before.
There were no signs. We shuffled in the gloom. Barely able to see each other. The adults smiling, being kind, making jokes, saying, “See you real soon,” as if we were supposed to laugh. The other kids were mucking around, excited, because it was their birthday, just like me. All born on the same day. They all shouted about the Blue Stream. I could only think of red chalk, and I wanted to remember it.
We entered through a small door, one at a time, so the ones outside had no idea what was inside. We expected a bus or something, an underground rail link to take us out to the country and the Blue Stream.
But inside, it was a huge room, even bigger than the cinema, a roof so high the rafters faded into a Blue. The whole lot of us fitted side by side, and there must have been a hundred. It was dark, at ground level, you could hardly see the next person, only the adults in their luminous suits, marching up and down, taking the roll about fifty times and refusing to answer questions. The only light came in a Blue glow from the plastic rectangular boxes held suspended above us. Ten wide, ten long, ten deep — one chained under another, a whole warehouse filled with a piece of art no one would like. The walls Blue and glowing.
The kids all shut up and gazed; the boxes way above were filled, the ones below were empty, inviting.
“What is it?” one kid asked, “Where’s the Stream?”
“This is the transport there,” one of the adults said and the rest laughed. I would have screamed but wanted my calm. Panic would remove control of my mind; my memory.
The perspex boxes above us moved, whispering slightly as they settled lower. It was like a ride at the fair (Fun Activities to share with the family, number six) or like a game where you had to end with the boxes in the right place.
Around me, kids were crying and trying to run away, but there were too many adults. They began a soft song,
“You sink first,
A cold, fresh shock,
And as you rise,
You begin to float,
And float, and float, and float.”
Over and over they sang it, as we waited for our box to reach the floor and each kid was picked up and laid down and the next box moved along.
They called my name, and I climbed into my box as it was lowered to the ground.
They didn’t have to lift me.
I lay down and breathed deeply like they told me.
Waited for the Blue Stream
Waited for nothingness.
****
I wake up screaming.
But I remember.
****
bios
Mark S. Deniz – Editor
A novelist and short fiction writer, Mark S. Deniz recently turned his hand to screenwriting for a short film Silverudden, which was screened at festivals worldwide in 2007. His published short stories (under the nom-de-plume Sin Deniz) can be found in the Big Finish anthologies: A Life Worth Living, Something Changed, and Collected Works. He also features in FlashSpec: Volume Two, and the Black Box anthology will have poetry featured in Doorways Magazine in 2009.
After a successful year at Eneit Press, Mark started his own company, Morrígan Books, closely followed by its imprint Gilgamesh Press, which is to focus on Assyrian topics. More can be found regarding Mark on his blog: http://markdeniz.wordpress.com.
Mark S. Deniz lives in Norrköping, on the south east coast of Sweden, with his wife and their
two children.
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Bernie Mojzes – The Collector
Bernie Mojzes has, at various times in his life, framed pictures, taught college courses, practiced martial arts, and designed and built computer networks. He has also been accused of committing public acts of Music and Philosophy. Bernie has short stories published or forthcoming in the anthologies Bad-Ass Faeries 2, Dragon Lure, and Barbarians at the Jumpgate. His illustrated book, The Evil Gazebo, will be available from Dark Quest Books. He can be found at http://www.kappamaki.com.
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T.A. Moore – Licwiglunga
T.A. Moore is a speculative fiction writer from Northern Ireland. Her prose is elegant, surreal and disturbing, generally eliciting the response of ‘but you seem so nice!’ from readers. She takes this as a compliment. Her first novel, The Even, was published by Morrígan Books in 2008 and the second, Shadows Bloom, will be published in 2010.
T.A. Moore writes, edits magazines, designs websites and teaches Creative Writing. Her advice to any aspiring young author is to cultivate a taste for coffee early. Strong coffee. The sort of coffee that would scare a Turkish man into drinking warm milky tea for the rest of his life.
****
Carole Johnstone – The Blind Man
Originally from Lanarkshire, Scotland, Carole Johnstone now lives in north Essex with her fiancé, Iain, and works part-time as a medical dosimetrist.
A relative newcomer to the world of published fiction, she was first featured in Black Static Magazine in early 2008. Her short stories have appeared, or are due to appear, in several anthologies and magazines including Voices, In Bad Dreams Vol. 2, Grants Pass, Dead Souls, and PS Publishing’s post-apocalyptic anthology, Catastrophia.
Her first novella, Frenzy, was published by Eternal Press in August 2009. Her website can be found at http://www.carolejohnstone.com.
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Tom English – Dry Places
Tom English is an environmental chemist for a U.S. defence contractor. For therapy, he runs Dead Letter Press and writes strange tales of the supernatural. His recent fiction can be found in Horror: The Best of the Year, 2008 (Wildside Press), and issues of All Hallows (The Journal of the Ghost Story Society).
Tom also edited the mammoth anthology Bound for Evil: Curious Tales of Books Gone Bad, which was a Shirley Jackson Award finalist for 2008. Tom resides with his wife, Wilma, and their Sheltie, Misty, deep in the woods of New Kent, Virginia.
Visit him at http://literaryalchemist.blogspot.com.
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Sharon Irwin – Begin with Water
Sharon Irwin lives in northwestern Ireland. She has been published in Flash Me Magazine, The Sword Review, Beyond Centauri, and others. Her work has been short listed for the Hennessy Literary Awards and for the Francis Mac Manus Short Story Award. Her blog can be found at http://theladywolf.livejournal.com/, but it’s sadly neglected as she is writing a novel.
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Robert Holt – In the Name
Robert Holt lives in the Midwest of the USA where he graduated from business school and now manages a grocery store. He eliminates all his rage towards his fellow man, a by-product of any customer service job, by writing horror stories in his free time (much to the bafflement of his beautiful wife, Jessica).
He has only just begun submitting his writings for publication, but watch for his other stories to start popping up in anthologies and on websites everywhere. He also has two full-length novels that are being dissected and stitched back together.
When not working, Robert enjoys escaping from the society in which he lives. This could mean flying to Europe for weeks at a time, cruising the South Pacific, or hiking through the Mark Twain National Forest for an hour with his hound dog. He also loves escaping into a good book, as any writer should.
His personal favourites include Clive Barker, Chuck Palahniuk, Richard Adams, Orson Scott Card, and Kurt Vonnegut.
****
Bill Ward – When They Come to Murder Me
Bill Ward is a freelance writer out of Baltimore, Maryland. He has sold fiction to Murky Depths, Flashing Swords, Every Day Fiction, Darwin’s Evolutions, Kaleidotrope, and the anthologies, The Return of the Sword and Desolate Places. In addition, Bill has written background material and serial fiction for fantasy and science fiction games, has done editing for small press ventures, and is co-editor of the Magic & Mechanica Anthology from Ricasso Press. To read his fiction or check out his weekly book reviews, please visit http://billwardwriter.com.
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Christopher Johnstone – The Unbedreamed
Christopher Johnstone is usually found in Melbourne.
****
Elizabeth Barrette – Goldenthread
Elizabeth Barrette writes fiction, non-fiction, and poetry in the fields of speculative fiction, gender studies, and alternative spirituality. Previous credits include the short stories Peacock Hour in Triangulations: Taking Flight and Pvaga and the Censor in The Lorelei Signal; the articles Appreciating Speculative Poetry in Internet Review of Science Fiction and Cyberfunded Creativity in EMG-zine; the book Composing Magic: How to Write Rituals, Spells, and Magical Poetry; and the poems Artifacts of Intelligent Design in The 3rd Annual SFPA Poetry Contest 2008: Energy and Ansel’s Army in Heroic Fantasy Quarterly.
She hosts a monthly Poetry Fishbowl on her blog, The Wordsmith’s Forge: http://ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com, writing poems based on prompts from her audience. She also reviews books and music on Reviews from Hypatia’s Hoard: http://reviewarchive.iblog.my/. At science fiction conventions and other events, she presents panels on various topics. She enjoys suspension-of-disbelief, bungee-jumping and spelunking in other people’s reality tunnels.
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Catherine J. Gardner – When the Cloak Falls
Catherine J. Gardner’s stories have appeared in Fantasy Magazine, Necrotic Tissue, and Arkham Tales. She has stories forthcoming in Postscripts, Space and Time, and the chapbook The Sour Aftertaste of Olive Lemon, which is to be published by Bucket ‘O’ Guts press. She also writes MG and YA dark fantasy books and is currently searching for an agent. Though she has been told she won’t find one under her desk or behind the cupboard, she insists on checking both places daily.
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Anna M. Lowther – The Price of Peace
Anna M. Lowther resides in a small Ohio town where her great-great-great grandfather settled after the American Revolutionary War. Though she holds a degree in Elementary Education she is also a history buff, which shows in many of her stories. She believes her work often takes a dark turn of its own making and may be influenced by her close proximity to both the spot where Pretty Boy Floyd was killed and the road where George Romero filmed the opening sequence for the original Night of the Living Dead.
She has been published in Sinister Tales Magazine, Theaker’s Quarterly Fiction, and Necrotic Tissue. Her stories appear in the following anthologies: Damned in Dixie by Tenoka Press, Abominations by Shroud Publishing, and Black Dragon, White Dragon by Ricasso Press.
Look for upcoming stories in The Scroll of Anubis by The Library of Horror Press and Dark Distortions II by Scotopia Press.
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James R. Stratton – Your Duty to Your Lord
James R. Stratton is a chameleon. By day, he is a mild-mannered government lawyer specializing in the field of child abuse prosecutions, and lives with his wife and children in southern Delaware. But he has been an avid fan of speculative fiction all his life, and began writing genre fiction over ten years ago.
In recent years, he’s been forging his dark alter ego as a genre fiction author through publication of his tales in venues like Dragons, Knights & Angels Magazine, Ennea (published in Athens, Greece) & Nth Degree Magazine. The appearance of his first foray into the world of poetry in The Broadkill Review is but another step in his master plan.
Soon, he will step into the light as his stories appear in 2008 & 2009 in Tower of Light Online Magazine, Big Pulp e-zine and Paper
Blossoms, Sharpened Steel: Tales of Fantasy from the Far East from Fantasist Enterprises. His appearance in Dead Souls is yet another step in his master plan. His final reveal, the novel Loki’s Gambit, is under review for possible publication in 2010.
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Kenneth C. Goldman – Mercy Hathaway is a Witch
Ken Goldman taught English and Film Studies at George Washington High School until 1999 when he left to pursue a writing career, fortune, and fame. (So far he has managed to achieve the first of those goals.)
His stories have been seen in over 500 publications in the U.S., Australia, The U. K., Ireland, and Canada, and have received honourable mentions in Ellen Datlow and Terry Windling’s The Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror 7th, 9th, 16th, and 17th Annual Collections, and in Datlow and Kelly Link & Gavin J. Grant’s 20th and 21st editions.
A book of his short stories, You Had Me at ARRGH!!: Five Uneasy Pieces by Ken Goldman has been published by Sam’s Dot Publishing, and (shameless plug alert) it can be purchased online at The Genre Mall where it has remained among its all-time top ten best sellers since its publication in October 2007.