The House on Hollow Hill

by David Kristoph

  You open the nearest door. "In here! Quick!" Your friends dart inside, and you're right behind them, swinging the door closed behind you.

  Everyone is silent, except for the sound of panting. You cock your ears to listen for the ghost.

  Hold your breath ON PAGE 139

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  Cautiously, you open the door to the closet, cringing as the hinges creak. You look around the bedroom. Everything is still.

  You go to the door to the hallway and close it. That wouldn't stop a ghost, but it makes you feel safer nonetheless.

  "I don't want to leave just yet," you say, "in case it is still out there. Let's look around."

  The dresser is antique, and covered in a thick film of dust. You open the top drawer. It's empty, except for a dead spider curled up in a ball. The next drawer is the same.

  Jake's standing over the bed, holding one of the pillows in his hand.

  "Bathroom's empty," Emma says, wiping dust from her hand. "There's an old electric hair dryer, but that's it. Jake? Are you okay?"

  Slowly, Jake shakes his head. "I picked up the pillow, and I thought I saw something moving. The bed moved, like we were on a boat. But then it stopped."

  Emma smacks him on the back. "I think all this dust is getting to your head."

  "I saw it!"

  "Hey guys," you interrupt, looking out the window. The glass is cloudy, but you can barely make out some shapes. "There's a balcony out there."

  They join you at the window. Jake presses his face against the glass and says, "Weird. There's no door to access it."

  "We could open one of the windows," Emma smiles. "Let some of this dust out."

  Jake makes a face and grabs the base of the window. It scrapes the side of the pane, and barely budges, but then finally relents and opens wide enough for you to crawl through.

  Crawl onto the balcony ON PAGE 150

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  Books are your specialty. "We'll play your game," you blurt out.

  "But Mike!"

  "I've got this," you assure her. "Trust me."

  "OKAY!" the ghost girl squeals with excitement. "I'll ask you three questions. If you get all three right, you'll get a prize!"

  "Three?" Jake sputters. "I don't know..."

  "QUESTION ONE!" the girl announces, holding up one finger in the air. "What famous book begins with the line, 'Call me Ishmael'?"

  If you think it's Moby Dick, TURN TO PAGE 135

  If you think it's Pride and Prejudice, GO TO PAGE 86

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  You examine the rack of dresses. Most of them are wrapped in protective plastic, like they just came back from the dry cleaner. You feel weird looking at people's clothes, but hey, Mr. Goosen said he'd already taken everything he wanted out of the house.

  The first dress is a faded pink color, with long sleeves and a wide waist. The hem is woven with intricate lace. It looks like something someone would wear in the 1920s.

  The next dress is much newer. It's bright blue with thousands of sparkling sequins all over the front, with padding built into the shoulders.

  The third one is covered up inside an opaque bag, and is much larger than the others. You pull the zipper down the side of the bag and take a look inside. The dress is a light gold color, almost silver. Ribbons are tied in bows in two columns down the front, with curtain-like lace strewn between them. More bows are woven up around the bodice and neckline, and the sleeves are loose and just long enough to cover the shoulders.

  "Woah," Emma says, gently pulling the dress out of the bag. She finds a tag near the hanger. "Look at this symbol!"

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  "What does V.R. mean?" Jake asks.

  The door flies open, and you all jump back with fright until you see that it's Mr. Goosen. He has a big smile on his face. "V.R. means Victoria Regina."

  Jake has a confused look on his face. "Regina?"

  "Regina is the Latin word for queen," Emma says. Then her eyes widen. "That means this dress belonged to..."

  "That's right: Queen Victoria of England! That was a gift to my wife a very long time ago. It was her favorite dress. Ahh, the balls we used to go to." Mr. Goosen gets a sad look on his face, but then it disappears. "You've made a wise choice for your prize."

  "What? I don't want a dress!" Jake complains.

  "Dude, Queen Victoria died a century ago," you say. "That dress is probably priceless!"

  "Quite so!" Mr. Goosen says. "In fact, that's one of the most valuable items in this house!"

  Emma carefully puts the dress back inside the protective cover. Mr. Goosen leads you downstairs and outside, explaining that the best thing to do would be to contact several prominent museums--the Smithsonian, the National Gallery in London, and several others you've never heard of--and hold an auction so they can bid on the dress. "Something that old, and in such good condition, will fetch a pretty penny!" he explains. Even Jake seems awed by the thought.

  It might be a while before you can hold such an auction, since museum curators from around the world will need to be gathered, but you decide it's a fantastic ending. You take one final look back at The House on Hollow Hill and smile that you've reached...

  THE END

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  Night is falling, so it's now difficult to see. You lean one foot out the window until you feel the balcony with your toes. Then you duck through, stepping down with your other foot. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

  Now you're on the balcony with a row of six potted plants in front of you.

  Your friends crawl through after you. The balcony rocks on old wood, but holds your weight. "There's nothing out here," Jake complains.

  "Hey," Emma points. "That pot is different."

  "Different how?"

  "The soil in the other pots is grey and dry. Old. This soil is new. See how black and moist it is?"

  "So what?" Jake says.

  "Don't you think that's weird?"

  "I think this entire house is weird."

  "Maybe there's something inside," you suggest.

  "Why would someone hide something inside a flower pot?" Jake asks.

  "Hey, you said it yourself. This entire house is weird."

  "Then stick your hand inside, Mike."

  You step up to the pot. The brown ceramic is chipped with age, as if the flower pot has been there for decades. But the soil is definitely new. You reach toward it...

  Before your fingers touch the soil, a small green bulb appears, the size of a thumbtack. It pushes aside the soil and rises an inch out of the pot. "Woah," you say.

  "That's some strong fertilizer!" Emma says.

  But the plant doesn't stop there. It continues rising until it's a long vine. It's unable to support its own weight, so it flops over the edge of the pot and continues growing. It extends toward your foot, and begins to wrap around your ankle. With a yelp you shake it off.

  More vines begin appearing from the soil, three, eight, ten. Soon dozens of them are crawling out of the pot and moving across the balcony. You step back from the writhing vines, too shocked to say anything.

  Your back hits the balcony railing. You've run out of room, and the vines are still moving. One of them crawls up the wall and into the bedroom, blocking off your retreat.

  "What do we do?" Jake asks.

  You look behind you. It's a ten foot drop to the ground.

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  "I have an idea," you say.

  Emma licks her lips nervously. "Tell us!"

  "You're not going to like it."

  The three of you turn to face the railing, and the ground below. Emma gives you a 'you've got to be kidding' stare.

  "Do you have a better idea?"

  The vines are spreading impossibly fast, brushing up against your shoes. There's no time. You lift your left leg over the railing, touching down on the balcony lip on the other side. Then you do the same with your right leg, so that you're on the other side of the railing. You hold on tight. Suddenly the drop seems much farther than before. Doubt begins spr
eading in your mind.

  A vine pushes through the railing, wrapping around your calf. Moving with instinct instead of thought, you jump.

  It feels like you fall forever in the darkness, until your feet slam into solid ground with a loud THUNK. You fall forward on your hands, but overall seem to be okay.

  You're on a wooden deck that spans the length of the back side of the house. You get to your feet and call, "Come on, guys!"

  The vines add urgency to their evacuation, and they both drop down a moment later. You help them up. "That was close!"

  "It still is!" Jake says. You look up and see the vines pouring over the side of the balcony in your direction. How could a plant grow so fast?

  "This way!" Emma yells, running into the back yard.

  You follow her through the tall, unmowed grass toward the woods. Thunder booms across the sky, and the tall pines sway back and forth wildly. Fat raindrops begin to fall.

  The woods provide a sense of safety after the dangers of the house. You enter just as the rain begins falling in earnest. The three of you stop at the third tree you come to, breathing heavily.

  "What was that?" Jake asks. "Plants don't do that!"

  A shadow appears from behind the tree. Its voice is deep and jarring. "Maybe not the plants you've seen..."

  Prepare to defend yourself ON PAGE 12

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  You don't know why you're so cautious, but you shake it off. You take a deep breath, pull apart the suit jacket, and reach inside the breast pocket.

  You feel a cold texture, and grab the object between two fingers as if it's radioactive before pulling it out.

  "A wallet!" Jake says.

  It's a faded piece of leather folded in half, thick with what must be paper bills. On the outside of the leather is printed a coat of arms:

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  "Check to see if there's any money!"

  You turn it sideways and open it, then carefully pull apart the sides of the bill holder...

  It's paper alright, but not paper money. They appear to be notes, grocery lists written in ink, receipts from various restaurants. You pull them out and toss them on the floor until the wallet is empty. "Aww, man!" Jake says.

  The door flies open, and you all jump back with fright until you see that it's Mr. Goosen. He has a big smile on his face. "Even if that wallet was filled with hundred dollar bills, it would hardly increase its value!"

  Emma cocks her head. "What do you mean?"

  "I wouldn't mind a few hundred dollar bills in there..." Jake says.

  Mr. Goosen says, "You see, that wallet once belonged to a very important person. A man with the title of Prince of Wales."

  "Where's Wales?" Jake says. "Is that even a country?"

  "Wales is part of the United Kingdom," Emma says. "The Prince of Wales is Prince Charles, the son of Queen Elizabeth! He's the next in line for the throne!"

  You stare down at the leather in your hand. Suddenly it seems far heavier than before.

  "Very good!" Mr. Goosen says. "I served in the Royal Navy with Charles four decades ago. He had no need of a wallet, seeing as he has servants and assistants following him around everywhere. You don't need to carry money or a photo ID when you're one of the most famous people in England!"

  Jake's mouth hangs open as he examines the wallet. "But don't you want the wallet?"

  Mr. Goosen purses his lips. "Where I'm going, I won't have need of a wallet either. Don't worry. It's much better off with you three."

  He leads you out of the house--where you see no more ghosts, thankfully--and outside. The wind is blowing the trees all around, but there's no rain now. It's strangely calm.

  A wallet from Prince Charles! You're not sure whether to keep it, auction it off, or donate it to a museum. But regardless of the future, you're pleased with the prize, and smile to have reached...

  THE END

  154

  Sneak Peek

  Welcome to Outer Space!

  The year is 2260, and the solar system has long been colonized by the Earth World Coalition and the Mars-Jupiter Alliance. Space thrives with ships of all shapes and sizes -- building, exploring, and discovering.

  You are Lt. Colonel ANDON MERCER, space marine. Together with first mate and co-pilot SERENA VALENTINE, the two of you fly the Kestrel, a Codec-class scout ship tasked with patrolling the outer edges of known space. Every day is the same: quiet, routine. Every day up until now.

  "Lieutenant Colonel," a voice calls from inside your helmet. "This is Commodore Garriott of the EWC Blackthorne."

  It takes you less than a second to open a channel. "I read you Commodore. Go ahead."

  "A ship has appeared on the outer edge of the belt," he tells you. "Unknown origin. All attempts to hail it have failed, and our scans are coming up empty." The Commodore pauses. "Right now, you're closest."

  A new waypoint blinks to life on your screen. He's right. It's not far at all.

  "Orders?"

  "Your orders are to intercept, board and investigate," the Commodore continues. "At least until we get there."

  "Roger that," you reply. Your terminal rapidly begins filling with information as Serena plots your newly-adjusted course. "Anything else, sir?"

  "Yes, Lieutenant Colonel. Use caution."

  "Affirmative."

  In no time at all you're accelerating past cruise velocity, speeding through space on a direct intercept for the derelict ship. Over the rim of your faceshield you shoot Serena a sideways glance.

  "Ready for this?" you ask.

  "Are you kidding?" she smirks back. "Been waiting forever."

  155

  At full thrust it doesn't take long to reach the edge of the asteroid belt. You squint through the blackness of the Kestrel's viewport and watch as the strange, derelict ship floats into view.

  "One of ours?" you ask.

  "Hard to say," Serena replies. "It's certainly not a design I've ever seen. And it's transmitting on a totally unknown transponder code."

  Except for a few distant running lights the ship appears dark and silent. Your console tells you two things: it's moving at a very high rate of speed, and it's heading directly for Earth.

  "Hail it."

  "I've been hailing it for ten minutes," Serena tells you. "No response."

  You look down again at your console, which reads green across the board. Although much larger than the Kestrel, the strange vessel seems bent on ignoring you. For right now at least, it poses no discernible threat.

  "Coming around."

  It takes some maneuvering, but you manage to slingshot alongside the sleek, dark ship. As you get closer you can see that it's definitely Earth-made. There's a name stenciled across the bow:

  DAUNTLESS

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  Serena brings you out of your trance with a tap on the shoulder. She points one finger to an external airlock.

  "Any other ideas?" you ask.

  "Not offhand."

  "Fine then. Let's go."

  "Docking procedure initiated," you tell your co-pilot. "Grab onto something."

  From here the computer takes over, calculating the complex set of maneuvers needed to exactly match the derelict ship's speed and direction. You feel the Kestrel shudder through a final series of thrust and counter-thrust micro-adjustments, and then the docking clamps engage with a hollow boom.

  157

  Squinting at her hand terminal, Serena's brow furrows. "That's weird..."

  "What is?"

  "I'm getting no atmospheric reading in certain parts of the ship," she says. "Either they sustained damage, or they dumped most the air."

  Serena is cut off by the sharp hiss of hydraulics. The airlock cycles through an array of yellow and green lights, and then the door slides open with a shift of internal pressure. You give your own ship one last reassuring pat and push on through.

  The world beyond the airlock is cold and dark. As your eyes adjust, the outline of a room fades into view. Condensation in the form of ice crystals clin
gs to control surfaces and shadowy computer consoles. Everything is in standby mode; all panels are dark except for the red-orange glow of emergency LED's.

  The ship is dark, spooky, and deserted.

  "I can make my way down to Engineering," Serena suggests. "If I can get the power up we can restart the air scrubbers. Get some atmosphere going in here."

  "Probably not a good idea until we know what we're facing," you say, drawing one of your service pistols. "Might be better to stick together until we've secured the ship."

  Serena holds up a black box with red and yellow wires protruding from it. "Or I can hook this battery up to the mainframe computer in the Ops room. Make the ship tell us what happened here."

  Which way will you proceed when you explore...

  The Ship

  At the

  Edge of Time

  About the Authors

  David Kristoph lives in Virginia with his wonderful wife and two not-quite German Shepherds. He's a fantastic reader, great videogamer, good chess player, average cyclist, and mediocre runner. He's also a member of the Planetary Society, patron of StarTalk Radio, amateur astronomer and general space enthusiast. He writes mostly Science Fiction and Fantasy. www.DavidKristoph.com

  Danny McAleese started writing fantasy fiction during the golden age of Dungeons & Dragons, way back in the heady, adventure-filled days of the 1980's. His short stories, The Exit, and Momentum, made him the Grand Prize winner of Blizzard Entertainment's 2011 Global Fiction Writing contest.