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Category: Freebies

Think of it like live bait, wriggling on a hook to draw you–
Okay, forget the hook. There is no hook. There are just the lovely yummy free stories…

Coat of Scarlet: A Clockpunk Tale, Part 8

by Siri Paulson Read previous installments: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 By the time Niko’s airship approached its next port, Marius knew he could delay no longer. They had been skirting the Continent and were to come in for refuelling and reprovisioning at Porto, since Olissipona, the other major city in West Iberia, was occupied with rebuilding. Niko hid it well, but by the increasing frequency he was stopping by to ask about his coat, Marius knew he was uncomfortable without it. Whatever business he had in port, he wanted to wear the justacorps. To make himself recognizable? To project an air of authority? Some other reason Marius could not guess? Regardless, the coat was ready, and Marius was only fooling himself by continuing to work on it. He was a little anxious about how his amendments would be received. More, he could not shake the fear that once he handed it over, Niko would have no further use for him. The moments they had shared made him reasonably certain that this fear had little basis in fact, yet it proved remarkably stubborn. Gloriana’s earlier warnings about Niko would not leave his ears. He did not even know what language they spoke in Porto. Still, he could not bear to keep Niko any longer from the coat that clearly meant so much to him. So, early in the morning before he could lose his nerve…

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Second Chance

Part 4: Manifestation a serial ghost story by Erin Zarro Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 “Oh my God,” Shelley said softly. “I’ve never seen this before.”               The dogs and cats went crazy, but Shelly managed to calm them down. Still, Larry and Moe, the two cats, stood at attention, ears perked, ready to defend us from the intruder.               I was looking at Adam.               Well, sort of. He was transparent, but he had a body. He wore what looked like jeans and a Bon Jovi t-shirt — unsurprisingly. His face reminded me of a ghost’s — his eyes were simply two empty holes filled with darkness. He had a mouth. And he glowed so brightly that it almost hurt my eyes to look at him.               And he was not sixteen anymore. He looked to be about my age. But I did not believe in ghosts. So, what was going on?               I probably should have been scared, but oddly enough, I really wasn’t.               Shelley’s hand grabbed my wrist before I could move closer. As if she’d known what I was about to do. “No, don’t go to him. We don’t even know if this is really him.”               Bubba growled softly as if he agreed with her statement.               Not taking my eyes off of Adam, I asked, “What do you mean? It’s clearly him. I feel it.”               “Lower-vibrational beings can do all sorts of things to make you think they are someone you…

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Timelines II

by Siri Paulson in that other timeline the one that made some kind of narrative sense the one we could all agree was real we got our dual shots and it was over a year and a half after it began the world resumed better than before because we learned what the universe wanted us to know in the timeline that existed in a just world the vaccines came first to the most vulnerable countries, neighbourhoods, individuals who could least afford the high price of getting sick and inequities were levelled out instead of being piled higher in the timeline that never went sideways the one that even now we can’t believe we won’t see again we still breathed on each other and moved in crowds without a second thought we never knew the fear that burrowed into the bronchioles of our lungs the invisible six-foot spheres that followed us everywhere so what then do we call this timeline we’re stuck in now a Groundhog Day of wave after wave a sea that threatens to take our breath? if we can’t undo the last two years if we can’t step sideways and disappear into another part of the multiverse where will we go from here? what is the after and how will we know when we’ve reached it?

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Curiosity Killed the Cat–Part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Wrapped in a net, carried by jeweled crabs, Srivasi and his companion traveled through dark passageways. They angled down for a ways—then up, in what felt like tight spirals. Once, the whole bunch swayed like seagrass in the tide, clicking loudly, then the journey resumed—back the way they’d come. No turning, just walking the other way. “Can we just get this over with?” Dasid groaned. “Be careful what you wish for,” Srivasi said, as the crabs picked up speed in their new direction, though the longer they went unharmed the more he was inclined to believe the creatures meant no harm. Why else capture them in a net, after all? “To feed us to their crablings,” Dasid said when Srivasi pointed that out. He was so young to be so cynical! A few crabs brought out glowing rocks, and Srivasi and Dasid were carried through a corridor that caught and split the light, refracting and multiplying, until the colors danced and swam about them and even Dasid gasped in wonder. Then they passed through a grey stone arch into a tunnel so low that Srivasi’s whiskers brushed the roof. It was remarkably uncomfortable until he turned his head. His nose, luckily, was not as long as the whiskers. From the close tunnel, they passed into a great chamber of rock and columns and connections, arches and spirals. The crabs headed straight for the edge of the rock, for…

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Second Chance

Part 3: Awakening a serial ghost story by Erin Zarro Part 1 Part 2 “Kristen, wake up.”                 The voice was distant like a dream. I struggled to come to the surface of consciousness, to open my eyes. Hands shook my shoulders. “Come on, I know you’re in there. Wake up.”                 My eyelids released, and the bright light of our office speared into my retinas. I wanted to close them again, because pain, but forced myself to look into Shelley’s eyes. “I am…here. What…happened?” I yawned, suddenly exhausted.                 I was at work. No one was around except Shelley. The clock said six-thirty.                 The notebook.                   What was my last memory? The notebook.Hi, sweetheart. “You passed out after seeing—”                 “No, he…that isn’t possible,” I said.                 “I didn’t write it,” Shelley said. “And no one else is here. Look, I know you don’t believe in ghosts, but spirits can sometimes manipulate things if they want to communicate. I’ve never heard of it being so…overt…like this. He must really want to talk to you.”                 It couldn’t be. Adam was gone. In the ground. There was no spirit to manipulate anything. Someone was playing a joke. A terrible, nasty joke. That was all. “It’s not him.” I tried to stand, but dizziness stopped me. “Can you help me up? I think I want to go home.” And then I remembered that I’d be going to an empty home, and Shelley’s offer to stay with her. “Or, uh,…

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A Piece of You

by Siri Paulson Your “hand” arrived today. Okay, okay, the haptic feedback glove that you programmed at our home on Mars arrived today. Strange to think how many months it’s been since you touched it, Marisol, and yet the pressure of its fingers on mine feels exactly as if you were here with me. The glove is supposed to make me feel less lonely – just me, myself, and I, Sophie Runningdeer-Lopez, out here in this tin can of a communications array for another year, with the Sun so far away it’s just another star. Funny thing is, I was doing just fine until it arrived. I have my embroidery and my book-reader, and I talk to the techs operating the next array over in each direction – except Karl, who insists on misgendering me – which gives me several ongoing conversations even if there’s a half-hour lag on each. Of course, conversations hum inaudibly through the array all around me; the irony of my solitude is staggering, she says dryly. It was easier when I could just put you in a little mental box, and pull you out every once in a while to think about our life together, and then shut you away again. But you would want me to use the glove, even if it wasn’t required for all solitary workers. I imagine you with the holographic sensors covering your skin, thinking of me as you went methodically through all the motions that the glove recorded. Methodical…

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May the Best Ghost Win–Sneak Peek

May the Best Ghost Win will be available for purchase on October 31st–naturally. From the tiny town where signs proclaimed, “Last Gas No Kidding” and “Ice-Cold Pop” to the top of the mountain where a dark destination waited, a narrow road snaked through wilderness. On one side of the mountain, the last rays of evening turned the world pink with alpine glow. On the other side, in the only moving car in twenty-five miles, Anton Berg drove alone except for his best friend who Anton thought was only pretending to sleep in the passenger seat. It was October thirty-first. Outside the car, dim headlights picked out gnarled black-limbed trees huddled close to the narrow, twisting road. Inside, the dash lights cast a green tone over Anton’s hands on the wheel and limned the edges of Lammie’s shape where he had curled into a ball, face pressed into the passenger seat. Hell, maybe he was asleep now. It’d been hours since he’d moved. Anton pondered what besides sleep could keep Lammie quiet and decided he didn’t actually care. Quiet was good. Quiet was what he wanted. Just get the trip over and— Static spat from the radio, finally overwhelming the DJ entirely. Anton jabbed the button to turn it off. Now he didn’t even have bad music to keep him awake. Silence filled the car, only enhanced by the rattles of the canvas top in the wind, the creaking of the woods around the car, and the soft sounds of the…

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Second Chance

Part 2: Disbelief a serial ghost story by Erin Zarro Part 1 “It can’t be,” I said, turning away from the closet and the radio. “I don’t believe in poltergeists. Or ghosts, for that matter.”                 Shelley’s eyes narrowed. “Really? I-I didn’t realize. Well, how else can you explain this, then?” She pointed to the closet, one eyebrow arched in question. “It’s not plugged in, so there’s no power.”                 “I know.” I turned back to the closet. I had no explanation that wasn’t a poltergeist or ghost…or Adam visiting me. But did I just want it to be? Maybe it was just a glitch?                 Shelley’s hand touched my shoulder, and I tensed. “Look, um, I don’t talk about this stuff to anybody because they’d think I’m mentally unstable, but I am, uh, sensitive to this type of energy —”                 “What type of energy?” Nausea churned my insides. What was she saying?                 “Ghosts and stuff,” Shelley said. “And I’m willing to bet that poltergeist — or whatever it is — is someone you know. Am I right?” Her gaze met mine, and I suddenly wanted to go somewhere and hide.                 She not only believed in ghosts and poltergeists, but was sensitive to energy? What did that mean? Did I dare hope that Adam was actually here?                 No, he couldn’t be.                 “None of this is real,” I said.                 “What if I said it was? And that you could communicate with this person?”                 I…

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Second Chance

Part 1: Poltergeist a serial ghost story by Erin Zarro It started with the radio. I’d been listening to a talk show, not ready for music yet, as I went through my parents’ closet. The house was huge: four bedrooms, a living room, a family room, two bathrooms, and a basement to go through. I was doing it in stages. I needed to sell the house as soon as possible but going through their possessions tore my heart out and burned it for good measure.                 The talk show was some mundane thing about the government. I wasn’t even sure what. My dad had followed that crap. He was a guitarist, and he loved music, which is why I couldn’t bear to listen to it. I couldn’t bear to do a lot of things. In the wake of the plane crash that had killed my family — my parents and my younger sister, Penny — there was so much I had yet to do. So much to remember — do this, do that, fill this out, get that form in, pay these bills, arrange this… It was overwhelming me.                 Yet here I was with the closet open in an empty, now-sterile house with only memories and furniture and clutter to keep me company.                 I caught sight of one of my mother’s old sundresses, one that I remembered her wearing when I was a kid. I took the material between two fingertips. It had little sunflowers on it and…

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Timelines

by Siri Paulson I am increasingly convinced that we are living in the wrong timeline the one the time traveler is supposed to come back and fix she was supposed to win he was meant to live we should have learned our lesson from the pandemic that almost was from that time we all messed up, or the other time, or the other one but she has taken a wrong turn in the multiverse he is fighting the pterodactyls stuck in the far future with the giant crabs intubated in some locked-down ward the portal dark and idle the time machine hidden and locked up tight waiting for the one with the knowledge who will never come to release it from its long and lonely wait or maybe they know not to come here maybe these are the years they always skip in their tours through the past maybe this is how things have to be if we want the shiny future we were promised long ago maybe we’re waiting for a rescue that will never come there’s no-one but us to mend the timeline to put things right one butterfly at a time we are all time travelers one second per second, one way only one day we’ll live in the future how it looks is up to us

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