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Across Worlds with You, Part 2 by Kit Campbell

Across Worlds with You, Part 2 by Kit Campbell Part 1 “Will? Will? Can you hear me?” Oh. He wasn’t dead. At least, not if the aching in his body meant anything. Gingerly, Will raised his head. He was lying on a tiled floor in a large hall of some kind where he’d definitely never been before. Beside him another man, his same age, knelt. He, like the hall, was also new. But, hey, not dead. And the dragging, hissing noise was nowhere to be heard. But, oh hell, his final. Dr. Frobisher had probably burned it. The man beside him wrung his hands. He was a lanky fellow who looked like a strong breeze would probably best him in a fight. “Can you hear me?” “Where am I?” Excellent, his voice worked too. The tile beneath him, and, indeed, all of him, was drenched. “Did you drag me in from outside? Which department is this?” “Oh, well,” the other man said. Then, instead of saying anything useful, he ran his hands through his hair, which served to make it stand up straight. Will managed to push himself up into a sitting position, only having a hand slip out from under him once. The hall was easily four stories tall, made out of a deep red stone that he hadn’t seen elsewhere on campus. Several stone columns held up the ceiling, and other archways led off, well, somewhere. It was fairly dark past the archways, making it hard to tell…

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All’s Fair in Love and Vampires

All’s Fair in Love and VampiresKit Campbell Even chocolate started to taste bad after the third bar. Sophia forced herself to swallow the last of it anyway, said, “Right,” and went out into the dark streets. The chill seeped through her coat as she kept to lonely alleyways and forgotten corners. “C’mon,” she murmured. “I didn’t make myself sick for nothing.” “You smell divine,” purred a voice from behind her. “I do so miss being able to taste food—especially chocolate.” Finally. Sophia reached under her coat, then froze as she sensed movement off to her left. “What’s a sweet thing like you doing in a place like this?” said a second voice, then laughed. Ugh, even the undead were crap at pick-up lines. So, for future note, three bars were too many. Sophia tightened her grip on her stake—her only stake. “Back off,” said the first one. “I smelled her first.” “Come on, bro,” said the second. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to share?” Well, served her right for being unprepared, but she’d be damned if she didn’t go down fighting. Sophia spun, pulling the stake out as she went. She lunged at the first vampire, who hissed and danced out of her reach. She cursed under her breath. She was out of her element—normally she waited until they were on top of her before she struck. But with two— “Not cool, dude,” said the second one. “That’s not playing nice.” His voice sounded closer, but Sophia couldn’t pick…

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Taming the Beast, by Kit Campbell

Taming the BeastKit Campbell Mortimer the Magnificent leaned forward, his focus completely on the task in front of him. He almost had it…just a few more inches… There was a knock on his door, startling him. The replica of Gildrun’s sword, tiny and perfect, fell from his fingers, clanging onto the table in front of his model of the great hero’s historic defense of Longswallow. Mortimer sighed; it never failed. The knocking continued. Mortimer frowned at his model, but there was no use going back to it, not with that ruckus. He pushed to his feet, crossed the room, and pulled the door open just as the man on the other side of it started to knock yet again. Mortimer calmly dodged the man’s fist. “Can I help you?” “Oh, ah, yes.” The man took off his hat, holding it with both hands. “I’m looking for Mortimer the Magnificent.” Oh, no, not this again. “You’ve found him.” “I have?” The man tried to discreetly examine Mortimer and failed miserably. “You’re Mortimer?” Mortimer was never quite sure what they were expecting to see. A slight man in glasses and a worn cardigan never seemed to be it. The man scuttled back, starting to bow but then apparently deciding otherwise halfway through the motion. He fidgeted with the hat in his hands. “Hector says you got rid of his dragon problem.” Mortimer had no idea who Hector was, but suspected he knew where this was going. “Yes…?” The man fidgeted more. Mortimer…

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Connection by Kit Campbell

ConnectionKit Campbell Ciel slid to a stop, mere inches from the edge. Below him, below the jutting rocks, was water, dark and cold. Hells. Another dead end. There was shouting behind him. Close. Too close. Ciel rubbed his left forearm, his fingers tracing the glowing blue design that encircled it. It’d been there as long as he could remember. His mother had always made sure he’d kept it covered, but he’d never understood why. But now his mother was dead, and now he understood. “Over there! By the ruins!” It had all happened so fast. His mother had known she was dying, had begged him to leave, to head to the city, where he would blend in better. But how could he leave her, when she was in such pain? And then she was gone, and in the act of comfort, a well-meaning neighbor had taken off Ciel’s coat. And comfort had turned so fast. He could hear their footsteps now. Neighbors, friends, people he had lived among for his entire life. Intent on seeing him gone, or worse. Ciel looked around for an alternate route, but the forest was thick on one side, and full of things one did not want to encounter. Behind him was his past, bent on his destruction. There was nothing for it. Taking a deep breath, Ciel gathered his fear around him, and jumped. The water was colder than it looked, driving his breath from him. The glow from his forearm was brighter, here…

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Superstition’s Night by Kit Campbell

“…and they reached the safety of the light, and all was well.” Amara turned off her comp-pad’s screen and placed the device on the side of Braedon’s berth. She stood, straightening his blankets, before bending to press a kiss to his forehead. “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.” She retrieved the comp-pad and headed toward the corridor.  “Mom?” Braedon called. There was a little tremor to his voice that gave her immediate pause.  She returned to his berth, sinking onto the blankets beside him. “What is it?” “The story–why were they so afraid of the dark? What was in it?” Amara chuckled lightly, tucking the blankets tighter around her child. “Oh, dearest, there’s nothing in the dark. There never was. But this is an old story, one your grandfather used to tell me his grandfather told him, back when they were still on Earth. They didn’t know any better, back then. The dark was scary merely because they couldn’t see what was there, not because anything was.” She paused, gazing out the porthole at the stars beyond, the edges of the asteroid they inhabited just barely visible from this angle. “Besides, it’s never dark here. Not when the light of the universe surrounds us.” Braedon nodded slightly, smiling up at her. “Thanks, Mom.” He rolled onto his side, and Amara took her leave. Poor child. Maybe the story had been too scary for him. But it was good to look at older stories, to see what humanity had…

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The Photograph

a free horror short story by Erin Zarro The strange picture hung in the hallway near my bedroom, cloaked in shadows. It was a picture of a woman who wore a black dress. A black veil covered her face completely, obscuring her facial features. I’d grown up in this house, and the picture had been there for as long as I could remember. Unfortunately, the only way to my bedroom was past that picture. Every time I passed by her, goosebumps raised on my arms, the hairs at the back of my neck stood up, and I’d get this painful twisting in my stomach. It lasted only seconds, but it was enough. My brother and I were walking home from school one day. The air was crisp with the feel of approaching autumn. Leaves had started to turn color. My heart was heavy, because at school I had friends. At home, not so much. “I’m gonna tell Mom and Dad that you broke Mom’s vase,” my little brother, Evan, said in a sing-song voice. “They’ll believe me. They always do.” It was freaking inevitable, so I didn’t bother arguing. “Whatever.” Evan stopped dead on the sidewalk, an expression of disbelief on his face. “Something’s wrong with you. You always argue with me. ‘Specially when I lie to Mom and Dad.” I shrugged. “I dunno. They’ll blame me anyway, so what’s the point?” Evan started walking again, and I followed. Yep, that was the ritual. Evan blamed me for something I…

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Deserts and Domes, by Kit Campbell

Deserts and Domes Kit Campbell ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Globes of electric lights flickered overhead as Mia stepped into the ballroom, smoothing the pale green silk of her gown. Below her spun dozens of the Dome’s finest, dressed in their best, each trying to outshine the rest. Purple seemed to be the color of the evening. Mia must have missed the signs somewhere. Alas. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now, except to find some other way to blend in. Deserts, how she did not want to be here. But it would not do to miss this, not after all the work she’d put into her persona, not after the sacrifices others had made to get her inside the Dome, not after the risks her “father” had taken. Matthew Ashwood stood beside her, resplendent in blues and greens, either also having not seen the signs for purple or, more likely, not caring. After all, if he cared about Dome society, he would not have taken her in. “Do you see him?” she asked, quietly, though she would not be heard over the music anyway. It came from all angles, amplified through speakers mounted on the walls. It was a waltz, scratching in a way live music never would, and its origins were unclear. Were there actual musicians hidden away somewhere? Some people could afford that, certainly, or justify attempting to, though there were very few musicians left. Probably it was a recording, or a recording of a recording. Matthew leaned…

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A Thousand Lifetimes

A Thousand Lifetimes by Kit Campbell   The pathway was long and dark, spiraling into trees that stretched on forever. Snow dusted leaves and grass. Adelia pulled her cloak closer around her shoulders, taking a deep breath, trying to ignore the crunching of running footsteps behind her. “Wait!” Her brother, Charles, slid to a stop, just outside her range of vision. “Please, don’t do this. I don’t mind, really. Come home.” She couldn’t turn to look at him, or the thinness of this place would be lost. Without answering him, she dug into her bag, pulling out a heavy key, blackened with age. Charles sucked in his breath, but he didn’t reach out for her. Adelia reached the key straight out in front of her, holding it steady. Then, she turned it. The door—and it was a door, though she had expected something less definite—swung open without her touching it. Adelia replaced the key in her bag and squared her shoulders. Beyond the door there was more darkness and hints of whispers. A breeze stirred her hair as she took a step closer. “Please,” Charles said, though now he sounded more distant. “Don’t do this.” But she had to. Her brother—her town—depended on it, and she would not allow his sacrifice. Not to the darkness. Not to the madness. It would not be enough. Though she wanted to look back, to assure him that she needed to do this, she knew the rules. And you never looked back. The darkness…

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1-800-HAUNTME

by Kit Campbell   Xavier had just connected when Amy burst in, blood staining his hands. “Quick! Do we have any more chickens?” Xavier held up one hand. “Spell out the following,” he instructed into his headset. “Do not seek what is not meant to be known.” A pause. “Yes, I know it’s long. No, I don’t feel like spelling out crushes tonight. Just do it, okay? Hold on.” He pulled the headset off his ears. “How can you be out of chickens already? I gave you five.” “Well, there’s not a lot of blood in a chicken.” Xavier rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Are you giving her her schedule again?” “No,” said Amy. “All right, yes. But in my defense, you should see her. She’s a mess. She’d never get to class on time if I didn’t remind her.” “Amy, darling, this is supposed to be a demonic possession. Blood oozing down the mirror spelling out threatening messages. You reminding her to get to her classes is not threatening. And what was it last month? A pick-me-up after a bad date?” “It’s still oozing in blood.” Xavier sighed. “Maybe I’ll give you paint,” he murmured. “Would the difference be obvious?” “Harder to clean,” Amy supplied helpfully. “Maybe a nice dry-erase marker—” Isham popped up from behind Xavier’s desk. “They exorcised me again.” “I am on a call here!” Xavier groaned and picked his headset back up. “Better transfer them to Hezekiah. I’ve got to deal with this. Thanks.”…

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The House Robot

The House Robot A free short story by Siri Paulson     Priya’s house was the last one on their street in Jaipur to get one of Reenu Mehta’s house robots. By that time, everyone knew how many things house robots were good for. You could order them to do your laundry – cheaper in the long run than paying a washerwoman. You could teach them to cook basic curries and naan faster than you could do it yourself. Some of them would even diagnose female complaints and tell you what medicines you needed. Only a woman engineer could have thought of that, the aunties said approvingly. So Priya talked her mother into putting aside some of Priya’s teaching salary, little by little, until they could buy a second-hand house robot. It was just as useful as advertised, and, even better, her mother was able to boast to her friends about what a good deal they had gotten. During this time, Priya’s uncle drove in from the village once in a while to see how they were getting on after the death of her father. At first he had brought money, but that had stopped after Priya’s mother turned down his offer of marriage. It was only right, he said, that he should marry his brother’s widow and so look after her. But Priya had seen the way he looked at her, and she knew it was not her mother he wanted. Since then, he only came by to issue…

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