When I felt sure she was gone, I took the necklace out from under the pillow. I stared at the gemstone for a few seconds before taking it into the bathroom. It clinked against the ceramic bowl of the toilet, and I flushed until it was gone.
A Certain Slant of Light
written by
Preston Dennett
illustrated by
CHRISTINE RHEE
* * *
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Preston Dennett has worked as a carpet cleaner, fast-food worker, data-entry clerk, bookkeeper, landscaper, singer, actor, writer, radio host, television consultant, teacher, UFO researcher, ghost hunter, and more. But his true love has always been speculative fiction.
From 1986 to 1992, he submitted eleven stories to this contest and received eleven rejections. Also rejected by other venues, Preston quit writing speculative fiction. Instead he wrote nonfiction about UFOs. Since then, he has written twenty-two books and more than 100 articles about UFOs and the paranormal.
Seventeen years later, in 2009, realizing his dream of being a science fiction writer was slipping away, he started writing and submitting stories again. He has since sold thirty-seven stories to various venues including Allegory, Andromeda Spaceways, Bards and Sages, Black Treacle, Cast of Wonders, The Colored Lens, Daily Science Fiction, Grievous Angel, Kzine, Perihelion Science Fiction, Sci Phi Journal, Stupefying Stories, T. Gene Davis’s Speculative Blog, and more, including several anthologies. Since these publications all paid less than professional rates, he was still qualified to win at the time he entered. He earned twelve honorable mentions in the Writers of the Future Contest before winning second place in the first quarter of 2018. It was his forty-seventh submission to the Contest, showing that if you want something bad enough, all you have to do is keep trying, and never give up. The story that follows is his third professional sale.
Preston currently resides in southern California where he spends his days looking for new ways to pay his bills and his nights exploring the farthest edges of the universe. You can visit him virtually at prestondennett.weebly.com
ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR
Christine Rhee was born in 1980 in Seoul, South Korea, and grew up in different parts of Southern California and Seoul.
She discovered her love of art while completing her degree in Molecular and Cell Biology at Berkeley. She subsequently earned her Bachelor of Fine Arts in animation and illustration at San Jose State University, where she worked on design for plays and music videos, and production of animated films.
Christine loves stories of survival, growth, and transformation, especially as they take on mythic qualities. She adores fables and fairytales in all their retellings. She especially loves sharing Korean traditional stories that have not yet made their way to a wider audience.
Christine works and lives in San Francisco with her husband, newborn son, and two studio bunnies. www.christinerhee.com
A Certain Slant of Light
Walter walked slowly along the crumbling sidewalk. The last ten years had taken its toll on his body, not to mention this little town, and the world outside it. Lee walked silently beside him. Silent for now. His protests would come shortly, as they always did. Walter forgave him. Lee had only been a toddler when they’d lost his mother. He didn’t remember her the way Walter did. The time had passed too quickly. Lee was an adult now, with his own family. Walter still saw him as that sandy-haired, freckle-faced little boy, but the truth was, Lee’s hairline was receding. And Walter was sliding quickly into old age.
The number of people grew. “There he is,” said an onlooker. “That’s him.” More faces turned toward him. More voices whispered.
Walter ignored them. Lee was clearly uncomfortable—he never liked the spotlight—but by now, Walter barely noticed the attention. Like Clare, he was a fixture here. The only difference was, he could move.
And there she was, his beautiful wife. The border of the time bubble was invisible, but a certain slant of light betrayed its presence. Clare stood with her back toward Walter. Her neck was craned around, and she peered in his direction with the hint of a smile. A smile that had been for him, all those years ago. A smile that was still there.
Walter approached as close as he could. Only a fool would approach closer. To do so was to die, to become caught in the time bubble, frozen.
Although only ten years had passed, the difference inside and out was obvious. Outside: dry foliage, the crumbling buildings, the yellow-brown sky. Inside the bubble, everything looked bright and green. It was like a snow globe. With his wife trapped inside, a living statue.
Walter stood silently and stared at Clare. How he longed to be with her again. He missed her so much. He couldn’t let her go, he just couldn’t.
He heard Lee sigh. Walter knew what that meant. Lee would again remind him that Clare was dead, that she wasn’t even there anymore, that according to the scientists, the bubbles contained only images, mere reflections.
“You can’t keep coming here forever,” said Lee. “It’s not good for you. It’s not healthy. It just gets you all depressed. I don’t know why you insist. I know you loved her. We all did. But Mom’s not coming back. One day you’re going to have to accept that.”
Walter didn’t bother responding. They had spoken variations of this conversation many times before. Instead, he smiled inwardly. They shared a stubborn streak, he and his son, neither willing to give in.
“You have to face the fact that she’s dead. I hate to be so blunt, but it’s true, and I think you know it.”
“That’s never been proven,” Walter said.
Lee shook his head. “She’s not there anymore. It doesn’t matter why or how. Either way, she’s gone. And you’re wasting your time coming here over and over again, day after day, waiting for something that’s never going to happen. You’ve become a laughingstock. You must know that.”
“I know it,” he said, seeing the hazel in Clare’s eyes, the auburn in her hair. She wasn’t dead. The world thought she was gone, but she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. He could feel the light around her, the undefinable quality of her presence. She was frozen in time, yes, but she lived. She was just trapped in this moment, fixed in time.
Illustration by Christine Rhee
“You know, Dad, if Mom was alive, she’d tell you to move on, do something with your life. Stop waiting for her. Date a nice woman, remarry, something … anything. Spend more time with me and Jenny, and your grandson. He loves you.”
“You don’t have to come with me,” said Walter. “I’m fine here with Clare.” Walter winced when he heard how he sounded.
Lee glared at him. “I don’t mind taking you here. I just want what’s best for you. You know that.”
“I know it,” Walter said. “Don’t worry. We’ll leave soon. Just a few more minutes.”
Lee flashed a dry, conciliatory smile. Walter ached to see it. Both Lee and Clare shared the same smile. Lee also had her soft hazel eyes. They were more alike than Lee would ever know.
Caleb giggled as he sat on Walter’s lap. Jenny kept an eye on both of them, smiling as she did the dishes.
Lee, as usual, sat in front of the television, learning what latest tragedy had struck the world. Walter no longer paid attention to the constant reports of hurricanes in one area, droughts in another, food and gas shortages, the rising sea levels. None of it was new.
It was Caleb that Walter worried most about. This was his world now. He didn’t know what it was like before the ocean became filled with plastic and algae, before the icecaps melted, before people were forced to stay inside air-conditioned homes while the world outside grew hotter. They had left him a used-up world. And Walter was as much to blame as anyone. At least Clare didn’t have to see any of it. Small consolation, but there it was.
“Dad, take a look at this,” Lee said, turning up the television.
“It’s
now confirmed. The time bubbles are not static,” the male reporter said, “Scientists have measured them growing at a rate of one-tenth of an inch every three years. This may not sound like a lot, but over a period of decades, this sort of growth could become a problem. With thousands of these things around the world, it’s only a matter of time before they take over the entire planet. Thankfully, at their current rate of growth, this will take millions of years. Still, it’s an important discovery that may lead to an answer as to what these things are.
“In related news, legislation is being put forth to make it illegal to visit the time bubbles. With the growing number of suicides in which people throw themselves inside the stricken areas, the legislation is likely to prove popular to some, and not so to others. Take the case of Walter Scobee—”
“Look!” said Caleb. “It’s Grandpa and Grandma.”
An image of Walter gazing forlornly at Clare filled the screen. “Turn it off!” said Walter, removing Caleb from his lap and standing up.
Lee looked over at Jenny, who motioned for him to turn off the television. Lee quickly pressed the off button.
“Sorry,” Walter said. “I just don’t want to see that right now.”
Lee rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you expect when you keep visiting her every damn day, granting interviews with the press. They make you look like a fool.”
“Honey!” said Jenny. “Don’t.”
“He needs to hear this.”
“I stopped doing interviews,” said Walter. He had hoped by giving an interview, the press would leave him alone. Instead, his story just became more popular.
“But still you keep visiting, even when you know you’re going to end up on TV.”
“That’s not my fault.”
“You could stop visiting.”
“Are you finished?” Walter asked. He disliked arguing. Why couldn’t his son understand? He couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t.
Lee threw up his hands. “Yeah, Dad. I’m finished. Visit her. Visit as often as you want. Cling to the past. But I’m done. And don’t take Caleb with you anymore. I don’t want him going there.”
“Lee,” Jenny protested, scooping up Caleb. “That’s not necessary.”
“No, it’s fine,” Walter said, feeling a stab of guilt. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t bring him.” Walter just wanted Caleb to know his grandmother. But Lee was right; that would never happen. It was wrong to give false hope.
“And quit telling him stories about her.”
“Lee!”
“I’m serious. It’s all he ever talks about. I loved Mom too, but I just can’t keep doing this. He won’t let her go. He talks as if Mom is still alive. She isn’t alive, Dad. And I don’t want you talking to Caleb like she is.”
“I won’t,” Walter said. “I’m going to my room. If that’s okay with you.”
“You know I love you, Dad. But this is just the way I feel.”
“I know it,” Walter said, and went to his room.
He didn’t blame Lee. But Lee wouldn’t have been saying these things if he could remember his mother, if he knew about the love she and Walter shared.
Damn these time bubbles. He cursed the day they first appeared. It wasn’t long after the Mid-East Holocaust. Pundits and so-called experts believed that there was a connection. They had fractured the time-stream, they said, frozen it in place. Maybe there was a connection, but if there was, nobody had found it. The truth was that nobody knew what the bubbles were. Thousands of them were dotted across the globe. Each of them was small, about ten to twenty miles in diameter, situated in seemingly random patterns. But still, the scientists knew little about them. Nobody had the faintest idea how they appeared or why. Theories ranged from aliens, to rips in space-time, to government experiments. All just theories. These days the bubbles were really nothing more than tourist attractions, bizarre curiosities, windows into a frozen past. Perhaps that’s what they are, thought Walter, time capsules to remind the world the way things used to be, before humanity polluted and destroyed the planet.
Walter stood and studied Clare. With her in sight, the world around him faded. Lee waited silently next to him. Despite what Walter had said, Lee insisted on accompanying him. Walter knew the real reason. Lee feared Walter would try to enter the bubble.
At nighttime, the bubble was particularly beautiful, the way it glowed with a cheery daylight that defied the world around it. And the crowds were sparser.
Clare looked particularly attractive today. As always, Walter resisted the urge to lunge forward and embrace her. Then he noticed something. It was something that had been at the edge of his awareness for months. Clare looked different. He couldn’t quite place how, but she was different. This was not the first time he had wondered about this, but today the sensation felt strong.
He had already studied every aspect of her, the way her dress hugged her hips, the arc of her footstep, the position of her arms, the flow of hair as it blew to the side.
Her hair. That was it! The difference was subtle, but the longer he peered the more certain he felt. A strand of her hair that had been pulled outward by the wind now lay almost flat against her shoulder. And yes, perhaps her foot was a fraction of an inch lower. Could it be? Could she be moving?
His heart raced. No trace of movement could be detected by the human eye, but she was moving. He felt sure of it. He glanced at Lee. He longed to tell him, but he didn’t dare. Lee wouldn’t believe it. He would assume that his father had lost his mental balance.
But he hadn’t. Clare was different. Even the sunlight seemed slanted differently. If it was true, the scientists who studied the bubbles would know soon enough. They might already know but were keeping it secret.
It didn’t matter. He knew the truth. And his heart soared. Maybe Clare wasn’t dead.
The next day, when Walter sneaked from the house to visit Clare, Lee appeared by his side. “You don’t need to come with me,” Walter said. “I’m fine alone.”
Lee was angry. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know what you’re planning to do. And I’m not going to let you do it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Walter began to walk briskly. Lee kept pace beside him. Thankfully it was just a short walk to visit Clare. Walter had insisted on living nearby.
“No? You’re not planning on running into the time bubble?”
Walter didn’t answer. Why lie? Of course, Lee was right.
“I knew it. Dad, you can’t. It’s suicide.”
“That’s just it. It’s not. She moved, Lee. Clare moved. She’s alive.”
Lee frowned, an expression of pity and anger. “She’s not alive, Dad. You know she’s not. And if you go after her, you won’t be either. You’ll be stuck like her.”
“She’s alive,” he whispered.
Lee sighed. “Think of us, me, Jenny, and Caleb. We love you too. You can’t leave us.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Dad, I’m not going to let you do this.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve already called the police. They’ve installed extra guards.”
Walter couldn’t disguise his anger and disappointment. “You have no right to tell me, your own father, what I can and can’t do.”
Lee’s eyes shined with tears. “Go ahead, get angry. I’m just trying to save your life.”
Walter gritted his teeth. Lee truly believed he was doing the right thing. But he wasn’t. If Walter was correct, Lee might be completely wrong. Everybody might be wrong. But he had to get inside the time bubble to find out.
When they arrived, Walter was dismayed to see how well-guarded the area was. As usual, a small crowd of people stood watching.
If he had gone years earlier, it would’ve been a simple matter to just walk into the bubble.
But now there were guards and fences, cameras and crowds. Soon it would be illegal. If he was going to succeed, he would have to do it soon.
Although he had visited this area thousands of times, today he studied it with a new perspective. He carefully planned his next move. He would do whatever it took. Nobody was going to keep him from Clare.
Walter had waited long enough. He had planned every detail. Nobody knew. Lee suspected, but he couldn’t be sure. He walked alongside, silent, supportive in the best way he knew how. He smiled, made small talk. Walter pretended that today was like any other.
It was a Thursday morning, statistically the least crowded time. Walter felt encouraged to see that almost nobody was there. The guards looked at him and smiled. They were used to him. But they also had guns, and their numbers were increasing.
He moved as close as the suspicion of those around him allowed. He stared at Clare’s form. I’m coming, my love.
He waited until the guards became used to him, until Lee began to use his cell phone.
He tapped his jacket, felt the heaviness of the handheld wire-cutter, and on the other side, a gun. Would this work?
He would miss his little family. He would miss Lee, sweet Jenny, and Caleb with his insatiable curiosity. He had done the honor of leaving them a note. Lee would see it as a suicide note, but it wasn’t. In it Walter had outlined his theory about the time bubbles, and why he was doing what he was about to do. Lee wouldn’t believe him, but he deserved to know how Walter felt.
He reached into his jacket, wrapped his fingers around the gun. He glanced at Lee, still engrossed with his phone.
He waited for the pacing guards to reach their point of furthest distance.
He pulled the gun out and he ran to the fence.
Incredibly, nobody seemed to notice him. Walter pulled out the cutters and turned them on. The blade buzzed to life. He held it to the chain-link fence and sparks began to fly.
L. Ron Hubbard Presents Writers of the Future Volume 35 Page 38