by Rob Shepherd
Desperate individuals tried desperate remedies, he thought. But communication and intelligent studies, along with the discoveries that came out of all that, had always been one of the most useful things at Mankind’s disposal, the traits that most differentiated the humans from the beasts, anyway.
‘Science is the great antidote to the poison of superstition’ a famous American politician had said almost one hundred years before. That was undoubtedly, incontrovertibly true!
Gísli nodded, thankful for his friend’s decision. As for him, he would do everything in his power to help the scientist, most certainly.
Over the course of the next years, the now almost middle-aged Icelandic researcher tried his best to spread his discoveries, not only across his homeland but even abroad, thanks to a few contacts of his in the British Empire, France and so on, but without results, in the end. He did all he could, sent letters to many important people, battled against some unmovable academicians, along with low-profile politicians and men of science and modern arts, but most of them simply showed no interest in his studies and didn’t believe him finally. Many didn’t even look at his evidence or said the images were only part of a strange film, based on Science-Fiction special effects, like the ones of the well known movies of that period, The Clown and the Automaton (1897) by George Melies or La Charcuterie Mécanique (1895) by Lumière Brothers. They considered them no more than good entertainment or the desperate attempt of a man who wanted publicity for his works and dubious experiments, in order to get investors to give him money for useless projects.
So the story went out for a few years more, but nobody else, apparently, was able to make good use of the info and all the data that Sigurður had collected before his early death. His passing occurred one day in 1916, while continuously travelling the land in search of other sources of the same vapor. Later his friend published several booklets, written texts and local articles, which were simply reputed by most of the scientific community as bizarre reports and unusual tales. These were soon relegated to discredited journals of the paranormal and magazines about incredible events that no real researcher would care to read or even worry about, of course.
One day, after his friend had passed, the now 51-year-old graying Gísli Gíslason sat lonely on a old bench in the same city park, in the town of Reykjavík, handling a small ball-shaped object that he put before his blue eyes many times, as if he were just looking at something in particular. Then, suddenly, a young girl started crying, without explanation seemingly, in the middle of an open playground on the opposite side of that area. She kept on sobbing for a while, moving away from his little friends who joyfully ran and played nearby.
An elder white-bearded man, next to his bench, who was walking nearby, just stopped and sneered saying, “Blissful youth! The younglings cry about nothing nowadays, but it suffices a gift from their parents or a sign of comfort and everything is soon forgotten by them all…”
Gísli stood up at once, stared briefly at that passer-by and replied, “There’s no reason to comfort them, believe me…” And that said he walked away, bowing his head angrily.
***
As the history of recent centuries showed afterwards, earthquakes tended to revive the activity of the Great Geyser, which then subsided again in the following period. Before 1896, the Geyser was almost dormant, then that sequence of eruptions began again, occurring several times a day, lasting up to an hour and causing spouts of up to 350 feet in height. Until 1910, it had remained active every 30 minutes; five years later the time between the eruptions was as much as six hours, but in 1916, the eruptions all but ceased. And a complete silence fell on all the many works and brave studies made by Sigurður Pétursson.
It was only in 1935 that the site was subsequently donated to all the Icelandic people forever by another famous film director. Many said he was an acquaintance of Sigurður or simply a man that had read his articles or even found his films interesting. After a very long phase of inactivity, the Great Geyser started erupting again after some earthquakes in 2000. But nobody seemingly took the chance to test if the past research of a scientist almost forgotten everywhere at that time could prove finally true. Since then the Geyser has grown quiet again and doesn’t erupt often.
Maybe someday it will begin its activity again, and somebody else, be it another scientist, a tourist or anyone else, will be able to admire its huge vapors, look through them and, maybe, who knows, learn how to use those properly to build a machine that could be useful to search — and to stay on guard against — those mischievous, bloody creatures of legends, who prey on the poor children around…
Sergio Palumbo is an Italian public servant who graduated from Law School working in the public real estate branch. He published a Fantasy Roleplaying illustrated Manual, WarBlades, and some of his works have been published on American Aphelion Webzine, WeirdYear Webzine, YesterYearFiction, AnotheRealm Magazine, Alien Skin Magazine, on Orion’s Child Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine, Farther Stars Than These, on Digital Dragon Magazine, on Kalkion Science Fiction and Fantasy Web Magazine, on Quantum Muse, Surprising Stories, on EMG- ZINE, on The Speculative Edge Magazine, on Australian Antipodean S, on British Schlock!Webzine, and in print inside one British Sci-Fi Anthology, four American Horror/Urban Fantasy Anthologies and 7 more to come by various publishers. He is also a scale modeler who likes mostly Science Fiction/Fantasy and Real Space models and writes articles/reportages about his works or about some scale model shows.
Just A Little Miss-Understanding
By David Perlmutter
I.
If she had been a few years older when it happened, Cat Anderson might have been able to laugh off what happened to her that Valentine’s Day. But since she was eighteen when it happened and she wasn’t entirely psychologically equipped to deal with the after-effects of the events, it was something she had difficult talking about later, except with one other who proved his friendship to her when she really needed it. This is their story.
***
Cat Anderson had earned her nickname for a number of reasons. The most obvious of which was that it was the most common and effective shortening of her given name, but that was hardly the sole or most prominent one. What earned her the name specifically among her peers at Richard Matheson Community College was her cat-like behavior and attitude towards life, including a surprisingly unpredictable temperament even towards her friends. Standing just over five feet barefoot, and with heavily muscled arms and legs, she was a natural and effective athlete, and, off the playing fields and courts, an unashamed “tomboy”. Disregarding traditional standards of “feminine” beauty, she grew her light red hair long and primarily outfitted herself in flamboyant T-shirts, “mannish” sweaters and tight fitting blue jeans, while affecting a manner that made her seem much more like a “boy” than many of her fellow male matriculates. Consequently, the clique of popular and beautiful girls who dominated the school’s social scene wanted nothing to do with her, while many of the boys, not wanting to risk her anger and one of the famous “beat-downs” she had become infamous for when that was aroused, kept her distance. Therefore, as Valentine’s Day and the school’s accompanying dance approached, Cat was looking forward to attending stag, as she usually did, and hovering in the background to protect her few close friends in case something happened to go wrong, which sometimes it did.
That was why the note posted on her locker door shortly before the day of the dance came as such a shock to her- the note that was to cause a chain of events in her life she’d never forget!
Cat thought it was funny that somebody would do that to her. Generally, the posting of a note on a girl’s locker door meant either two things- a young man (or girl) with amorous intentions towards a girl (or boy) in his (or her) age group had taken to communicating his feelings towards her rather than go through the agonizing and torturous process of talking to her in person, or else it was something girl-on-girl related- a party invitation, threatened bullying or haz
ing, etc. She hoped that, for once, it would be one of the former rather than the latter, especially the latter of the latter, since she’d been through too many of those but, fortunately, survived all of them with her strength and dignity intact.
In any event, she snapped the envelope containing the note from the tape holding it to the locker, broke the seal of the envelope, pulled out the piece of paper inside, and began to read it:
Dear Cat:
You probably don’t know me, and you haven’t seen me at all, since I’ve only been in town for a couple of weeks now, but I have been watching you avidly at your social and sporting events and, I must say, I’m pretty impressed! In fact, if you’ll let me be so bold as to say it, I have fallen madly in love with you!
I have done a lot of travelling, and I can say with some assurance that you are one of the strongest, fastest, bravest and prettiest girls I have ever met. And I would be honored if you would accompany me to the upcoming Valentine’s Day dance to help me “come out”, as it were, among your circle of friends. I find it very hard meeting new people, and even talking to them in person, hence this note. I just hope that you won’t be off-put so much by this method of communication that you’ll completely ignore me as a result of it.
If you are willing to accompany me (and if you aren’t, I won’t be responsible for the consequences of what happens afterwards!), just come to the address on the business card I have thoughtfully included with this note on the night of the dance. I look forward to finally making your acquaintance in person- and I can assure you, you will be in for a hell of a time when we finally meet face to face!
Yours sincerely, with affection,
Corey Eprimav
It was a boy! And his name was Corey- one of her favorites! And more than that, he’d worn his heart on his sleeve and told her he loved her! How many other guys at her age were willing to do something as brazen and bold as that? In a fit of ecstasy, Cat spun around in a circle athletically and boldly kissed the envelope and letter with her lips.
“Well, Mr. Corey Eprimav,” she declared with a leer to the empty school hall, “I accept your offer. And if you’re anything like I think you are, you’re the one who’s gonna be in for a hell of a time!”
Her reverie was interrupted when she felt somebody put a hand to her buttocks. Not likely Mr. Corey Eprimav, since he hadn’t yet proved his manhood enough to show himself to her in public. No, this was likely some horny brat trying to prove his own “manhood” by copping a feel of her. The f—-ing nerve of him!
“You jerk!” Cat swore in a venomous contralto. “Better get away from me before I decide to…”
Again, she was deceived by appearances, because, when she turned around, it was merely short, blond-haired Skip Langdale, the closest thing she had to a best friend, laughing his fool head off. She knew she shouldn’t have fallen for such an obvious set-up, but, on the other hand, Skip was about the only boy she knew at Matheson to even have anything resembling a refined sense of humor, not to mention a moral and ethical conscience, which was why she liked hanging out with him in the first place. That was why she merely regarded him with a cynical sneer as she stretched back to her full five feet, dwarfing him by a full foot as he resumed his full height.
“What’s the matter, Cat?” said Skip as he finished laughing. “Can’t take a joke?”
“I can so take a joke, Skip,” Cat retorted defensively, “but not a dirty one like that! You’re lucky I didn’t take that dirty paw of yours and stick it up your…”
“Okay, okay!” he answered contritely. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” Cat said. “I mean, Corey wouldn’t do something low down like that to get a girl’s attention…”
“And who, exactly,” Skip cut in with a touch of mock jealousy, “is Corey? Not another one of your imaginary boyfriends, is it?”
“Nuh-uh!” she replied. “This guy is real!” She waved the note in his face. “Try to deny this, pal!”
She thrust the letter into his face, and he read it quickly. It slowly became apparent to him that a better man than he had openly declared his love for Cat, and he, Skip, needed to get out of the picture- and fast- if he didn’t want trouble from either him or her. Skip tried to hide the crestfallen look on his face, as he had hoped to ask Cat to the dance himself, and had only now built enough courage inside himself to even try to form a coherent request in his mouth and mind. But Cat’s street smarts quickly allowed her to detect his frustration and fears in his face, and she reassured him of their friendship as she withdrew the note from her grasp, instead placing her arm on his.
“Look, Skip,” she said, “I know you probably had your mind set on asking me out ’cause of our friendship and all…”
“Yeah,” he said nervously. “Friendship…”
“…but we’ve been pals long enough now that you should now that we can’t possible share everything together. This is just one of those things.”
“Obviously,” said Skip.
“And besides which, I haven’t met Corey yet, and he may turn out to be a total douche bag, and things definitely won’t last between us if that’s the case.”
“But what if you do like him?” Skip persisted.
“Look,” Cat said, getting angry, “whether I like him or not is my decision to make, not yours! And you better not try any sneaky subterfuge to try and break us up before things start to happen, or I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL…”
“Got it!” said Skip, holding his hands over his face.
“Relax, Skip!” said Cat, laughing. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you!”
“Yes, I do,” said Skip as he brought his arms down to his sides again, “but I’m still not taking any chances!”
He laughed and she giggled. That was another thing that bonded them- that they could make each other genuinely laugh. Not many others, at the school or elsewhere, could make that claim.
“I gotta get going now, Skip!” she said when they finished. “The dance is in two days, and I have to figure out how to transform myself from The Creature From The Black Lagoon into someway halfway decent!”
“That’s not as hard as it seems!” he countered. “You always clean up good!”
“How would you know how well I clean up?” she shot back with caustic humor. They laughed again raucously before finally parting company.
II.
Fearing that some girl would find out about Corey before she had the chance- or the courage- to meet him face to face, Cat told no one else about her upcoming “date”. She knew full well that she would get razzed about it, especially from her female enemies at school, who would no doubt consider the boy to have been especially “desperate” to have chosen an…unbeautiful girl like Cat when others were available within the school environs. So she told nobody, except to confide to Skip, as she already had, and make some vague hints to her parents that she was going to the dance with a “friend”. Being the un-inquisitive types they were, and knowing full well of their daughter’s ferocious temper, they left it at that, and so did she.
Finally, having donned a conservative red sweater for the occasion, a belt, and her cleanest pair of jeans, Cat left her house that Valentine’s Day evening and walked to the address her “date” had given her along with the letter. She was still under the impression that she was to be getting to know a handsome boy who, as yet, had been unable to vocalize his feelings about her in person, and made her plans for the evening accordingly. Unfortunately for her, things were not to run that smoothly.
Corey Eprimav seemed to live in an old Victorian mansion at the top of a high hill, built out of what seemed to be a type of wood that was particularly vulnerable to attacks from termites. Or so it seemed to Cat as she struggled her way up to the top of the natural barrier. Reaching the top, and then making it, shaking, to the shady but decrepit front porch, she summoned enough courage to ring the doorbell.
She heard footsteps come slowly towards the door, and then the door opened.
It
wasn’t a boy who answered the door, but a girl. A girl nearly as big and strong as Cat herself, it appeared. She had short cut red hair like Cat’s, only a few shades darker. Her green eyes bore into Cat’s like a laser, and Cat found it hard to resist her gaze. As she came out into the early evening, it was evident that the girl was wearing a brown leather jacket, black slacks and black boots. Turning away briefly from the hypnotic gaze, Cat tensed herself, in case the strange girl wanted to fight. So did the girl.
“Uh…hi!” Cat said nervously as the girl leaned against the wooden beam holding up the porch.
“Hi, yourself!” answered the girl suspiciously. “What do you want?”
“Is… Corey… here?” Cat said as she nervously pulled at the neck of her sweater. “I kinda…sorta…have a…d-d-date with him!”
The girl’s suspicion receded from her face, replaced almost immediately with a genial familiarity.
“Ah!” she said, walking towards her. “Cat! You must be Cat, right?”
“Yep,” Cat said. “Now, look, I don’t want any trouble, but I want to know where Corey is…”
“Oh, that’s no problem!” the girl answered. “You’re looking at her!”
The color drained immediately from Cat’s face. This was the being…who so…fantasized about her? A girl? Even for a worldly and fearless lady like she, this took something getting used to.