Her memory made my hand freeze. I had already chosen one world over her once. Was I really going to make the same choice a second time? I coughed violently to expel acrid smoke from my lungs as her last words rang in my head: “If you decide to travel anywhere else, that will have to be your final trip.” It’s strange how I had not thought of that once all these years, but her words now weighed down on me like an unbearable burden. Be reasonable, a voice whispered in my head. Will she even be available after all these years? How sure are you of her feelings, anyway? What if you’ve misread her? The Tracker almost slipped through my sweaty, trembling fingers. I had the hardest choice in my life to make, and just a precious few seconds to do so.
My pocket burst into flames, and I put it out with my hand in panic, sending sparkling gems to rain onto the floor. A wide smile crept on my lips as I ignored them to click the dial. It made no difference if I arrived empty-handed; I had no use for gems where I was going. It was time for a fresh start.
The Sentry
The sentry froze in place to sniff the brisk night air. He caught a hint of the familiar scent of decomposition and death that accompanied the Monster’s arrival, although he could neither see nor hear it yet. He always prided himself on his keen sense of smell, knowing it had served him well in the past. The scent could only mean one thing; that the beast would arrive any minute now. He paced along his patrol route in eager anticipation. Tonight was the night; tonight, he would exact his revenge.
Every night during these past months, ever since they posted him to his new station, he had been terrified of the Monster. He had followed his Family there, the one they had assigned him to protect, unaware of the threat that came with his new post. His mind drifted to the first time he had laid eyes on it… With a shudder, he tried to shake away the awful memory. This was not the time to think of that, he reflected. His thoughts should be on how proud his Family would be, when he showed them his trophy, the Monster’s head on a stick. Or something similar; he had not really considered the details. There would be plenty of time for that, once the hideous thing was finally dealt with. In his mind he could already see their beaming faces as they congratulated him on his bravery; an image that filled him with bliss. His achievement would please them for sure; how could it not? They had to hate the Sacrifice at least as much as he did.
Day after day, the Monster chugged along at the crack of dawn to steal away all the precious food they had gathered during their long, arduous day. He hated to watch them slave away under the blistering sun, only to put away the juiciest, most prized morsels within the ritual urn. Despite the Sacrifice, they were well fed of course, but that did not stop him from resenting the fact that they had to make do with the scraps, while the Monster gobbled up the most aromatic, delicious parts of their provisions. Perhaps others had resigned themselves to the situation, but not him: he had no qualms dealing with the Monster once and for all.
His face lit up as a sudden thought occurred to him. Maybe this was the very reason they had handed him this assignment. There were many others who could patrol the area, but they had chosen him for the job. Could it be that, deep inside, they wanted him to put an end to the Sacrifice; to conduct the forbidden rebellion on their behalf? To stand up against their oppressor, the thief of their food and their future?
His chest swelled with pride. I won’t let them down, he promised himself. He would end the Sacrifice, and then they would, at last, enjoy all the food they spent every waking hour collecting. And who knows; perhaps that might even mean more food for him.
His mouth watered at the mental image of the exquisite titbits now ending up in the ritual urn; the tastiest bits offered to the Monster. They would be so proud at his achievement, they might even share some of these with him. His stomach growled, and he remembered he had not eaten since morning. Should I head back for a snack? It seems to be running late tonight, anyway. Perhaps it won’t come tonight. He stopped his pacing to shift his weight first on one leg, then another, filled with trepidation mixed with hidden relief.
Before reaching a decision, a low rumble caught his attention. The hair on his neck shot up, making him resemble a tiny dinosaur, and a brief wave of panic washed over his chest. He cursed himself for allowing his reverie to distract him long enough for the Monster to approach. The cool air carried its horrible moan as it staggered along the narrow streets. Then, he made out its silhouette in the thin light of dawn. It was close; closer than he had realized! He ducked under some bushes to wait, his heart pounding in his ears.
Within seconds, the Monster reached the end of the sentry’s patrol area. A street lamp lit it from behind, sending its long shadow to the spot where he lay hidden. He watched it stagger towards the neighbors’ ritual urn. Although too far to see clearly, the sentry knew by heart the scene that would now play out. The beast’s uniformed lackeys would emerge to examine the urn’s contents. What’d happen if the offering was deemed unsatisfactory? he wondered. He had no idea, but knew that the neighbors would never dare offend the Monster that way.
Stealing a peek in its direction, he saw the beast lurching nearby, its hideous nose sniffing the ground. The lackeys waited patiently for it to growl its consent and stop, quivering in eager anticipation. They approached the urn in slow, authoritative steps. Lifting it onto the air, they exchanged some words; most likely a prayer, or invocation of some sort. Then, they emptied its contents with one swift motion straight into the beast’s ravenous mouth. The Monster ground and gulped down the delicious offering, moaning in sickening satisfaction as it enjoyed the mouth-watering, aromatic provisions. It lay down, a gentle quiver running through its deformed body, while crunching the Sacrifice, waiting for the lackeys to jump back on its back.
He knew the sequence well, for he had been watching the Monster’s every movement in silent, wary observation ever since he took the post. It had become his nightmare, and many a morning he would wake up in speechless terror after dreaming of its repulsive mouth closing around him, crunching his flesh and bones into tiny, mangled bits. No more nightmares, he promised himself. Tonight, it ends.
He dug deeper into the bushes. The Monster scared him more than anything in the entire world, and his whole body trembled with anticipation, overloaded glands pumping adrenaline into his frail body. Courage might be his only weapon, but he did not care: his faith would prevail.
He ran his plan once again through his head. It was really very simple; the Monster’s slow stagger suggested poor eyesight, despite its bug eyes. Also, it had trouble turning its revolting head, and always stumbled as it made its way backwards. All the sentry had to do, then, was to attack from behind, while the lackeys examined the ritual urn, leaving their master unguarded. Thick, impenetrable scales covered its body, so he would target its soft legs, in the hope of wounding it enough to immobilize it, thus preventing it from fleeing. Then, he would fight its assistants, taking them out one at a time. With any luck, they would only notice him when it was too late.
While he gathered his courage, the Monster let a satisfied sigh and the two men returned the neighbor’s urn to its place. The beast moaned and rose on its legs, causing the ground to shudder under its vile, painfully slow crawl towards his family’s urn. A moment later, its sparkling gaze fell on the bush. It never ceased to amaze him how bright the creature’s eyes were, and he lowered his head in nervous apprehension.
He sealed his eyes until the Monster was so close that he could smell its awful breath, then opened them again to stare at it through the bushes’ thick leaves. Things were going to plan so far; the Monster had not noticed him. It staggered and stopped before him, sniffing loudly at the ground. The lackeys jumped off, exchanged a few words and approached the urn.
The sentry gulped and steeled himself. A silent prayer in his mind, he let out a loud cry and charged at the beast. He grabbed one of its thick legs, but in vain; the Monster did not even seem to register his presence. In desperation, he bit its leathery hide as hard as he could and clawed
at it, in a futile effort to tear off a tendon. The skin was too hard for him, though, and the beast proved impervious to pain. No matter how hard he tried, his teeth failed to break the skin.
Approaching footsteps startled him, making him realize he had forgotten the lackeys in his frenzied state. They closed in on him, had him cornered now, a cruel smirk on their lips. His body trembled in fear; he had wasted precious time, and took a frightened step back as they crept menacingly towards him.
With a clarity of mind that surprised even him, he measured the distance separating him from the safety of the bushes behind them; his family’s bushes. They would never dare to enter there, would they? It would be unheard of. So would attacking the Monster, a voice whispered in his mind. He shook his head to make it stop; this was not the time to second-guess himself.
He took a deep breath before dashing towards the two men. One of them stumbled in his effort to grab him, crashing to the ground. The sentry jumped over him, a strong jerk of his legs leading him to fly straight into the bush. Crawling as fast as he could through leaves dripping with morning dew, he emerged behind it and knelt down, trying to become one with the aromatic, moist soil. He lay there, observing the lackeys’ attempts to figure out where he’d gone, his heart beating faster than ever as he tried to catch his breath. A silent grin of satisfaction appeared on his face as it became clear that he had escaped them. He pushed his head onto the ground as a beam of light flickered over the bush, pleased that they did not dare enter his family’s space.
One of them leaned down to examine their master’s wounded leg. I may have wounded it so badly they’ll think twice before stealing our food again, he thought with pride. He may not have been able to defeat it, but he had taught it a lesson it would not forget any time soon.
The two men exchanged a few words before heading towards the bush. For a moment it looked as if they’d do the unthinkable and enter his family’s space. I told you; it’s no more unthinkable than what you did¸ the voice in his head scolded him. His heart skipped a beat and every muscle in his body tightened, as he steeled himself for battle. The men hesitated for a moment, then spun around to jump back on the beast. A loud sigh escaped his lips and his eyes lit up. That’s right, run, you cowards, he thought, watching the Monster continue its insatiable walk through the narrow streets.
As the garbage truck chugged along, a puzzled driver glanced back towards the garden into which the puppy had disappeared. “What’s wrong with that dog?” he yelled at his mate, loud enough to be heard over the engine’s clatter. “Why did he attack our tires?” Instead of an answer, his colleague raised his shoulders, his eyes already fixed on the next trashcan.
INFINITE WATERS
We create our own narratives.
Then we live by them.
Copyright © 2015 Nicholas C. Rossis. All rights reserved.
Illustrations by Dimitris Fousekis. Copyright © 2014 Dimitris Fousekis. All rights reserved.
Cover by Alexios Saskalidis, 187designz.deviantart.com. All rights reserved.
Editor: Lorelei Logsdon
ISBN: 978-1514771396 (print edition)
Infinite Waters
“That will be ten dollars.”
The woman clutched her leather purse for a second, then snapped it open and fished out a battered wallet that had seen better days. She passed me a crumpled bill, an apologetic look on her face. I almost told her to keep it, then remembered that I, too, had to pay bills.
I shoved the money into my pocket with my left hand, my right one already hovering over the divination tools. Which one would be required today? The answer depended partly on the question, partly on inspiration.
“What do you want to know?”
In the dim light of the tent, I saw her fidget with her purse. Probably just another love-stricken woman, I told myself. Pity. She was cute. She deserved better than an unfaithful boyfriend or a brutish husband.
I stared at my hands for a moment, then stole an inquisitive look at her. Like her wallet, she, too, had seen better days. The fine worry lines on her face betrayed a life of hardship. I listened to the howling wind outside, flapping the tent’s awning, as I studied a broken plastic pin that held together her hair. The pin hung on to the thick golden and silver strands, like a drunk holding on to his last bottle, but I could see it was a losing battle.
I waited patiently, taking in the sweet smell of burning incense from the stick to my left. Her mouth opened, then closed again. I discreetly pushed the smoking stick farther away, so as not to derail her train of thought.
“I want to be…” she started, then stopped. “No.” She jutted her jaw in defiance. “I am an author.” Her self-confidence waned just as suddenly as it had appeared. “Or would like to be. Someday. Maybe.”
An author. Not a love thing, then. At least, not in the sense I had thought. “Have you written anything?”
Her cheeks flushed. “I…” she stuttered. “I have. A book. I mean, of course it’s a book, what else would it be? If I’m a writer. I am writing it. The book. Not right now, of course. I’m talking to you, not—”
I raised my hand to stop her, her train of thought obviously already derailed and plunging into a cliff, complete with screaming passengers and bawling train engineers. I hoped she wrote better than she spoke. “And you want to know if it will be a success?”
“I want inspiration. And that, of course. Success.”
My lips parted into a smile. “I see.” I reached under the table for a seldom-used item. My fingers touched soft fabric. I pulled out a round object on the table, draped in velvet, and placed it on the table. With a flourish, I removed the cover.
She put a hand over her mouth to hide her mirth. “A crystal ball?” She cocked her head and gave me a mischievous grin. “Isn’t that a bit of a cliché?”
“Sure is.” I pulled a soft cloth and wiped off a smudge from its surface. “Clichés exist for a reason.”
“But—”
“Why don’t you stare inside and tell me what you see?” I interrupted her.
Curiosity and disbelief fought in her eyes. Curiosity won. It always did.
Her expression changed from disbelief to wonder as she leaned forward and stared into the globe. A soft glow came from deep within. Shapes swirled and danced inside, luring her deeper and deeper into the infinite waters of a myriad universes…
The Things We Do for Lust
“Alcmene?”
The spool slipped through my fingers and rolled onto the floor. I skipped over the thread and hurried down the stairs to rush into his arms. “You’re home,” I cried out as I barreled into the room. “I was so worried about you.”
His tall frame stood against the open door, the sun showing off his muscular body. He glanced down at me, his soft brown eyes sparkling. He opened his arms and I jumped into his bear hug. I squeezed against him and kissed him, our lips melting together.
“I told you that I’d be safe, didn’t I?” He pushed me gently away to unclasp his woolen cloak. Holding it on one arm, he held it high.
A slave hurried to accept the crimson garment. Underneath, Amphitryon still wore his leather armor.
I ran a trembling finger against it, checking for stains. Finding none, I let out a relieved sigh. A shudder ran along my back. “I was so worried.”
Amphitryon sat on a bench and untied the leather straps on his leggings. No blood on them, either. He let out a sigh and rubbed the striped marks left on his calves. “Worried enough to show your husband some love?”
I raised a hand to my mouth to stifle my chuckle. He’s insatiable. Then again, that’s why I love him so much. Despite myself, excitement crept up my body. I had missed him more than I cared to admit. Men and their stupid wars! I leaned in and sniffed him. He smelled divine, but I played hard-to-get. I scrunched my nose. “Don’t you need a bath first? You smell of the road.”
He grabbed my hand and drew me into his lap. “What I need is my wife.”
I yelped and then l
aughed. My cackle turned to soft moans as our tongues entwined in a fiery kiss. Shivers ran along my entire body. I slapped my palm against his chest and pushed him away for a moment, to catch my breath. My fingers caught on a chain around his neck. It held a strange stone. It seemed to shimmer and glow with an eerie light from within, misty shapes and colors shifting and twirling inside. “What’s this?” I whispered. My voice betrayed my awe.
He waved his hand dismissively. “Spoils of war.”
Before I could question him further, he rose to his feet, lifting me with him. I squealed and leaned against his chest, listening to the thudding of his heart as he hauled me into our room. His heel pushed against the door, slamming it shut behind us.
Hours later, a soft bump woke me up. “Amphitryon?”
“Sorry, love,” his soft voice whispered. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I had drifted asleep after our lovemaking. Heat crept up my cheeks as I remembered the details. Best sex ever!
He sat down on the bed, and I scooted towards the wall to give him more space. I yawned and stretched my arms. A cold gust of wind blew into the room, making my hairs stand on end. I draped my body with the sheet and peered outside the open window. There was little light coming from the night sky. Clouds had swallowed the moon, and the soft patter of rain echoed on the roof tiles. A lone lantern sent a warm orange light to chase shadows away from Amphitryon’s handsome face. I traced his cheek with adoring fingers. “You’re so handsome.”
“Thank you,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
I leaned towards him and planted a soft kiss on his mouth. He pushed his lips against mine with a surprising urgency. Again? My eyes widened, then I closed them and moaned as I let his tongue invade my mouth. Well, if he’s up for it, why not? I threw him on the bed and straddled him, tearing off his gown with shaky hands.
The Ultimate Collection of Science & Speculative Fiction Short Stories (Short SSF Stories Book 5) Page 6