Glimpses: an Anthology of 16 Short Fantasy Stories: An exclusive collection of fantasy fiction

by Kevin Partner

  Read More

  If you enjoyed Cimondelli I have a treat for you! My UnFolding Series is set in the same universe as Cimondelli.

  A fantasy fiction tale of adventure and intrigue, the UnFolding Series follows a diverse group on a quest to save the last remnant of Old Earth and bring balance to their home planets. Traveling through time and dimension, young and old combine wits and magic to thwart the diabolical plot of those determined to conquer and enslave the unique populations that inhabit the Inner Universe. Told in four Novels and eleven Companion Shorts it is a worthy indulgence. The complete UnFolding Series is available today at Amazon in paperback and for the Kindle e-reader

  A reviewer at Amazon.com wrote: "I would definitely suggest this book to anyone who has enjoyed stories like Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, or Lord of the Rings. The creativity seen in this book never ceases to amaze me, and everyone who I have suggested it to has loved it, as well."

  To learn more about the UnFolding Series and my next series (and my adventures writing while living on a boat cruising in the Pacific Ocean along the coastline of the largest nation forest in the United States) visit my . . .

  Website: https://www.skrandolph.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/skrandolph11

  Amazon.com author page: https://www.amazon.com/author/skrandolph/

  email: SK@SKRandolph.com

  Angles Of Time

  Stefan M Nardi

  Lightning flashed through the night, creeping around the edges of the drawn curtain. Heavy droplets of rain drummed on the roof and doors of the automobile as it moved through the streets of Ebonfall. Buckley Grimes lounged in the back seat, quietly sipping on a finger of whiskey as he stroked his bushy mustache. The vehicle began to slow and Buckley took one last swallow of his drink. He peered out the window as the automobile pulled to a stop.

  'Wait for me a little ways down the road.' Buckley said as the driver glanced at him in the rear view mirror. The driver nodded his acknowledgment.

  Sheets of rain pounded the earth outside, making it all but impossible to see through the darkness. Buckley pushed open the door and stepped out into the night, flicking up the collar of his trench coat to shield himself from the water. He pulled the brim of his bowler hat further down over his eyes and stood staring up at the mansion before him. A flash of lightning crackled through the air, surrounding the building in a blue glow. Buckley could make out a thick tangle of vines which had snaked up the front of the house and curled around the darkened windows, giving the mansion an eerie appearance as it was bathed in the blue light. The lightning faded and the darkness returned once more. Buckley turned to the driver and waved for him to go. The driver nodded appreciatively to him and with a puff of steam from the engine, the vehicle moved off.

  Buckley strode through the rain towards the looming building. Loose gravel crunched beneath his feet as he moved. As he reached the door he pulled off his hat and gently pressed his ear to the door. The sound of the rain dimmed as the downpour lessened. Buckley strained to hear, listening for even the slightest movement in the room beyond. Nothing. He stepped back and reached beneath his coat until his fingers closed around the smooth, cool surface of his revolver. He pulled the weapon from its holster and pressed the latch on the gun's side. The cylinder of the weapon clicked open to reveal six bullets nestled within, each of the bullets glowing with a soft purple light. Satisfied that the Aether infused weapon was fully loaded, Buckley clicked the cylinder back into place and hefted the weapon, pointing its long bronze barrel upwards.

  Buckley took one last look out into the night before slowly turning the door handle. The door opened with a soft click and swung inward. Warm air flowed from the room and a wave of nausea rolled over Buckley. The rancid smell of death mixed with the thick scent smoke filled his nostrils. Buckley raised his free hand to his mouth for a moment and managed to push down the feeling of nausea. He cautiously stepped across the threshold, gun held out in front of him, but he couldn't see anything through the inky darkness.

  He fumbled around in his pocket for a book of matches. His hand closed around the small cardboard square and he pulled it from his coat. Light flickered to life as he struck one of the matches against the wall. Buckley sucked in a sharp breath of air as the match illuminated the room, instantly regretting it as nausea rolled over him once more. He stared around in horror at the scene before him. The desk and armchairs of the small sitting room were soaked a deep crimson color. The walls and floor were covered in an array of blood splatters and in the center of the room lay the shredded remains of what had once been two human bodies.

  Buckley let out a hiss of breath as the flames of the match singed his fingers and spluttered out. He had been so captivated by the horror of the scene before him that he had not realized the match was almost spent. He hurriedly fumbled for another and once more struck it against the wall. When it sprang to life he gingerly picked his way across the room and grabbed a blood splattered lantern from the desk. As he touched the match to the lantern's wick, it sprang to life, banishing the shadows from the corners of the room. Buckley replaced the lantern on the table and then looked around the room once more. His eyes resting on the blood-splattered pages that covered the desk.

  He flicked through the pages, studying their contents. Strange writings covered the yellowed paper in scratchy black ink, filling the pages with complex mathematical formulae. He returned the pages to their resting place and turned to inspect the remains which lay on the floor. He crouched down next to the bodies, his gun still held loosely in his right hand. Cold dead eyes stared up at him from the lifeless pale faces. Buckley extended his hand and lightly touched the dead flesh, it was still slightly warm. It wasn't hard to see what had killed the two. While their heads were intact and unmarked except for the flecks of blood, the rest of the bodies were a bloody mess. Rough, jagged wounds covered the bodies as if they had been torn apart by claws or teeth. No knife had done this. If it had, Buckley wouldn't have been sent here. But the question now was, what had the claws and teeth belonged to? And where was it now?

  Buckley rose to his feet once more and took one last look around the room. He grabbed the lantern from the desk and held it aloft as he walked. He moved towards the doorway on the far wall, the lantern casting its glow through it as he moved. As he left the room he walked past the fireplace, as he did something nagged at the back of his mind. He stopped as realization struck him. He bent down and held his hand close to the ashes. When he felt no warmth he leaned in further and touched them. They were stone cold. But that made no sense. How could they be cold? He had smelled the smoke when he opened the door.

  A sense of dread washed over him and he rushed back to the table. He put the lantern and the gun on the desk and began to riffle through the papers. More pages of strange equations that made no sense to him. He threw the papers onto the desk and looked down at the bodies lying on the floor once more.

  'What the hell were you two up to?' he growled.

  He picked up the lantern and his gun once more and walked out of the room into the hallway beyond. He held the lantern above his head so that it cast its light down the length of the hall. The hall was covered with a deep red carpet. Paintings of solemn-looking men filled the walls. To his right a staircase sloped upwards, while to his left, the hall continued on lined with doorways. Buckley walked a few meters down the hall and pushed open the first door. He gave a start as the door swung inward and banged against the wall.

  'What the hell?' he muttered to himself.

  He stepped back out into the hall and peered back the way he had come. There had been a good few meters between the two doorways, why was there a wall right here? He hurried back down the hallway to the sitting room. There had to be something he had missed. As he entered the room, he put the lantern down on the desk once more and carefully inspected the room. He studied the great ring of blood on the floor and the streaks that coated the wall. Buckley holstered his gun and moved towards the wal
l which would have joined onto the next room. He pressed his hands to it and began to run his fingers over the cool red stone, searching for even the slightest imperfection that might indicate a hidden door. He moved back and forth along the wall running his hands over every inch. Nothing. He growled in frustration and turned to look around the room once more. There was something he was missing, but what?

  He glanced around the room, there had to be something there, he was sure of it. Something that would open the door. He scoured the room with his eyes. The desk, strewn with papers, the armchairs, torn and covered with blood. The cold fireplace and the two fire pokers, one on the ground and the other still in its cradle. Broken glass spread across the floor. He stopped, his eyes snapped back to the fireplace.

  'Got you. You bastard.' He muttered to himself.

  He strode towards the fireplace and reached for the upright poker. The room was a mess and there was no way the poker had stayed upright during whatever it was that had happened here. Unless it was permanently fixed in place, that was. His fist closed around the cool black metal and he pulled it towards himself. He grinned with satisfaction as he heard a loud click and the groan of a door swinging. He turned to see a panel of the wall hanging slightly open. Faint fingers of light crept through the sliver of the open doorway. Buckley leaped back across the room, his pace quickening with every step. He felt his heart rate quickening as he once more pulled his gun from its holster.

  Buckley's fingers closed around the edge of the doorway and he pulled it open. He took in the room before him. The chamber was almost an exact replica of the sitting room, however hundreds of strange markings covered the walls. Off to Buckley's right, where the fireplace had sat in the previous room, was what appeared to be an altar. A small table stood, draped in a long black cloth. Unlit candles were in each of the four corners. In the center of the table sat a strange statue carved from dark gray stone. The statue displayed a grotesque figure, the figure was vaguely humanoid in shape and crouched over with two bat-like wings sprouting from its back. In the place of hands and feet, the figure had wicked looking claws which ended in vicious points. Strangest of all, however, was the creature's head. The head was lumpy and misshapen, it had dark, beady eyes and where its mouth should have been, a mass of tentacles sprouted. Lastly, just below the statue, a small copper bowl sat, filled with a dark liquid. Buckley shivered. He had seen enough altars like that to know what the liquid was.

  Buckley tore his eyes from the horrid altar and moved towards the desk in the room. As with the first desk, this too was laden with sheets of paper. He placed the lantern and the gun down once more and picked up the sheets. Like the first sheets, these ones were filled with strange mathematical equations in a scratchy black handwriting, however, Buckley noticed new symbols mixed into the equations, strange characters, and runes, matching the ones on the walls of the rooms. He began to flick through the pages faster and faster. Suddenly he stopped as he came to a page filled with writing. A date sat at the top in the scratchy ink. Yesterday's date. His eye's scanned over the words.

  June 20, 1852

  Heinrich is ecstatic, he believes that we have finally cracked it. He believes that he has found the missing link that will allow us to complete the equations and open a gateway to the past. He intends to attempt this tonight. Should we, at last, be successful the Supreme Leader shall reward us greatly for our efforts and the reign of the Hochste Reich shall be eternal.

  Buckley dropped the papers in horror, dashing for the desk as they fluttered to the ground. He had to get out of here. He knew what it was that had murdered the two occupants of the house, he had to leave and burn this place to the ground before it came back. He snatched his gun from the desk and spun his heel heading for the door. He stopped dead in his tracks. He stared in horror as tendrils of thick black smoke poured through the open doorway from the room beyond.

  'Dammit,' he swore.

  He was too careless in his haste, he shouldn't have left the door open like that. He watched in horror as the smoke began to part. An oily black maw pushed its way through the thick smoke, its mouth gaping open, tendrils of black drool escaping between its jagged teeth. The rest of the creature's head and body soon followed. Buckley stood frozen, staring at the creature before him. Its body was covered in an oily black fur, it was thin and haggard looking, its ribs clearly visible beneath its fur. It stood on long sinewy legs, its mouth open as it panted heavily.

  'A Hound of Tindalos,' Buckley breathed.

  A loud crack cut through the air and the creature let out a small yelp. Buckley snapped out of his reverie at the sudden sound. He looked around for the source of the noise before he realized that it had come from his gun. He had somehow managed to raise it and squeeze the trigger without even realizing. Before he could react, the creature charged towards him. Buckley let off two more shots from the gun. The loud report of the weapon ringing through the small room. The first shot missed but the second caught the creature in its soft underbelly as it launched itself at him. The beast let out another small yelp as it crashed into Buckley, sending him to the ground.

  Buckley's gun clattered from his hand as he hit the ground, the hound crumpled on top of him. The creature let out a growl as it struggled to its feet. Buckley reached for the knife strapped to his leg as the monster began to rise. The creature had him pinned though, its weight too heavy. His fingers fumbled, he could feel the top of the knife handle but he couldn't grab it. He strained as the creature raised its head. Its foot moved as it stood fully and looked at him groggily. Suddenly the weight was gone as the creature fully stood, hovering over him. Buckley's hand darted forward and closed around the knife handle as the beast's eyes cleared and it opened its jaws. Buckley yanked the knife free from its sheath as the beast's head shot towards his face. The creature's teeth were a hair's breadth from his face when he plunged the knife into the beast's side. The hound was knocked to the side and off Buckley from the force of the blow. It staggered as it fell. Buckley rolled to the side, reaching for his gun.

  Buckley's hand closed around the weapon once more and he rolled onto his back just in time to see the beast leaping for him once more, jaws snapping. He raised the gun and squeezed the trigger once more. The bullet halted the beast's forward momentum and the creature's head snapped backwards. It fell to the ground and skidded along the floor coming to rest next to Buckley. Buckley stared at the beast for a moment, watching for any sign of movement. After a few seconds he let out a sigh of relief and lowered the gun.

  He hauled himself back to his feet and grabbed the lantern from where it still sat on the desk. He knocked the papers from the desk onto the floor, scattering them across the room and then pulled another match from his pocket. He lit the match and dropped it to the floor, watching as the piles of paper flared to life. Satisfied, he headed back out into the sitting room and knocked the papers from the desk there as well. Instead of pulling another match from his pocket, he threw the lantern to the floor. Oil splattered out across the papers, catching instantly and lighting up the darkened room once more. He gave one last look at the two bodies as the flames began to engulf them and then headed for the door, his mission complete. As he walked back into the night he smiled to himself. Doc would be interested to know that it was a Hound of Tindalos that they had detected, he'd probably be annoyed that Buckley had just burnt the secrets to time travel as well, but it was safer that way.

  He gave one last look at the house and the wearily trudged off back into the night, heading for the waiting vehicle.

  Read more

  Join my mailing list and get a free Novel! www.mysticinkwell.com/subscribe

  Reboot

  Eloise Hamann

  I wake up with my head spinning. What’s that dreadful noise? I realize it’s my snooze alarm amped up to break the sound barrier. I don’t remember hitting it, but I bang down the alarm, curse a blue streak, kick off my covers, and leap from bed. I can’t be late for a second time this week. It will be Matthew’s
fault if I am. What time was it last night when we stopped arguing over the phone? Dammit to hell and back! No time to think about that now.

  I jerk on underwear, skirt, blouse, and shoes, run a comb through my hair, and grab my purse. I’ll apply makeup on BART. I’m just out the door when my heel catches on the top cement step. It feels odd and when I check it, it falls off in my hand. Shite! I paw through my purse for my condo key and can’t find it. Slow down I tell myself and then methodically go through each zippered pocket. Why did I buy a purse with so many fricking individual pouches? Must have been manufactured by the people who built the Winchester House. Finally, I find it in the first pocket I checked. It was covered by a business card I’d stuffed inside.

  Back in the house I sit on my bed and swiftly don a pair of tennis shoes so I can run from BART’s parking garage. I notice my cell on the nightstand and jam it into its proper place in my purse. if I speed and make every traffic light, there might be just enough time to make my usual train.

  My head swivels as I scan the traffic for cops. It would be my luck to get stopped. I sail through only about half of the lights on green, plow through three orange ones, and tap my fingers on the steering wheel at the remaining red but still feel hopeful as I wend my way up the parking garage, not finding a spot until the top floor. I run like a woman escaping a rapist, arrive out of breath inside the station, rip open my purse to dig out my clipper card, clap it down on the card reader, and wait impatiently for the two sides of the barrier to crawl open.

  Down the steps I fly only to watch the train gathering speed in its departure. My heart sinks. The way my life is going, what did I expect? If it hadn’t been for that damned shoe. I sigh. No rush now. Fifteen minutes to relax. Yeah, right—relax. I sit on a bench and try to collect myself. May as well apply my makeup now without everybody staring at me. After the fight with Matthew, I’d gone to bed without my usual ritual of face cleansing. I have raccoon eyes, but no remover in my makeup pocket of the Winchester Purse. I lick my finger, dampen the mascara streaks, and rub most of it off with a tissue. The rest of my makeup only needs a touch here and there. After the lipstick, I look human.