Showing posts with label Free short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Free short story. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 29, 2023

The Night the Moon Sang

 

Click the link below for details and purchase information

https://bookswelove.net/waldron-juliet/

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 My husband, two little boys and I had driven 7 hours north through snow and ice from Connecticut to Maine to see his favorite cousin, Susan. She and her family were house-sitting in a large, lovely 18th Century sea-captain’s home whose sloping lawn stretched down to an inlet of the sea. 

The whole world was electric blue in the twilight when we piled out of the VW and waded the last few feet of their driveway. We stomped our feet to get rid of snow in the unheated  mud room. The kitchen was wood-fire-piecemeal hot, and Susan was belatedly beginning to work on a sink full of dishes. 





The family lived for the winter in a few downstairs rooms, and kept the pipes warm for the owners, who were off sailing in the tropics, a life-style unimaginable to us. Sue’s husband was a potter, and while he made beautiful things, from dinner services to exotic display pieces, they were not exactly flush with cash. Beans or spaghetti and homemade bread were probably supper that night; I don’t remember.  It was Susan’s birthday, so she’d made a delicious, heavy, scratch chocolate cake, and I’d brought up Grandma Carol’s family famous “Cowboy Cookies.” 

Night grew deeper. Finally, the kids and cousins were extinguished; the adults were all talked out. We retired to couches and sleeping bags. It was cold as the hinges of the 9th Circle of Hell in any room not heated by a woodstove, an utterly clear and magnificently dark sky starry night—at least, until the full moon got up over the tall black pines. Then it was like day out-of-doors, the moon balefully glittering down on those crisp, fresh pillows of snow. 

Susan and I had agreed to wake up later, because we’d consulted the almanac and learned that there was to be a lunar eclipse around 1 a.m. It was the night between our birthdays—mine would be tomorrow. We were a kindred pair of magical-mystery-tour women, both Pisces in the cusp. We were not about to miss such a grand celestial side-show.

Exhausted from carbohydrates and driving , I’d fallen into a deep sleep, but in what seemed only a few minutes, I heard Susan's voice in my ear.

“Juliet! Get up! Get Up!”

I sat up groggily. I could see her quite well with the moonlight pouring in the windows; it was amazingly bright. 

“Get your boots and get downstairs—quick—quick--hurry!”

I did as she asked, for she sounded almost desperate, as if something was terribly wrong. Not only that, but she enforced the idea by rushing out of the room as soon as she finished speaking. I heard her feet going down the stairs rapidly. I got my boots on and followed, fast as I could. When I reached the kitchen, there she was, my coat in hand.

“Is it the eclipse? What’s happening?”

“Come on—quick--hurry! You have to hear this! It’s crazy!”

I threw the coat on and followed her out the door. The first breath, as we stood on the back steps, froze my nose and made me choke. It must have been zero—or lower. She gestured upward toward the moon, sailing high over the forbidding, snow robed pines. 

As we stood there, trembling, it acquired a halo of dull red for the eclipse had begun. The snow-weighted branches randomly cracked in the cold. I had an odd feeling inside my head; I seemed to be looking up through water.  Next came a kind of hum, a low tone that reverberated through the scene, and then I heard sweet tones, like a flute or an electronic instrument, ring across the sleeping, snow-shrouded land and out across the icy ocean which could be seen--and heard--at the bottom of the slope. 

The veiled moon grew redder; the haunting tune repeated. Susan grabbed me by the shoulder. 

“Do you hear it? Do you?”

“Yes! Yes! What …?” I kept looking up and down and side to side to see if anything was different or if anyone else was nearby, but I couldn't see any human-made light, shape, or motion. We were alone and shivering with the snot freezing air and the sheer weirdness of the snow-bound scene under that muted, dire moonlight.

“Thank God!” Nervously, Susan giggled. “I thought I’d completely lost it.” 

She was cheered now that we had both "completely lost it." ;)

The tones were beautiful, melodic –and almost, in some peculiar way, perfectly normal. 

Well, when the “music” stopped, we went back inside and attempted to awaken our respective spouses, but that was hopeless. Neither of them wanted to leave the warm cacoon of their beds—besides, they believed their Pisces women were engaged in some weird, flipped out folie à deux.  

Now, if you are thinking about “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” go right ahead.  Our trip into  The Uncanny Valley happened in 1973, four years before Spielberg’s blockbuster.  In fact, when I heard those tones in the movie all that time later, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and a cold chill ran down my spine.

I'd remembered that frigid night in Maine when a blood red moon sang to Susan and me.


~~ Juliet Waldron




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Saturday, February 24, 2018

Soren's Calling - A Dark Paranormal Short by S. Peters-Davis




Hello everyone – thanks for stopping: ) I belong to a short story writing group on GoodReads and I’d like to share one of my darker paranormal short stories – not the usual for me, my preference is a lighter form of paranormal or supernatural to read and to write. It’s a real shorty😊  Enjoy…








Soren’s Calling – word count 967

          The tree, miles inside the dense Michigan forest, billowed with majestic energy, same as it did fifteen years ago. I’d sensed its power even then, at ten years old. Something marked in my memory like a reoccurring dream called me back to this place.

          I touched the kaleidoscope of bark, reveling in its swirls of uneven texture, and swore it shivered. Or was I vibrating to its high frequency? Excitement and exhaustion sliced through me. “Hello, old friend,” I whispered.

          A sudden heaviness settled into my body and eyelids. I dropped my backpack and leaned against the tree, bending until I rested on the ground. The sketch book. I pulled it from the pack and thumbed through the pages of my drawings. There he was. I want to see you again.

          My eyes closed of their own volition, sending me into the darkness of deep sleep.

* * *

          Breaking branches, rustling leaves, and a thud on the ground next to me startled my mind to consciousness. I jumped to my feet, the sketch book landing with Soren’s page open. I glanced at it for a second before scanning the area and seeing nothing. Then…he stood in front of me.

          “Soren?”

          His violet-rimmed dark eyes studied me. He’d grown in stature, still long-limbed with clawed hands and feet. His shoulder-length silver hair was drawn away from his sculpted face by a couple slender braids. He sniffed the air and his mouth opened showing long incisors.

          “It’s me, Becca.” I reached my hand toward him and he jerked back, snarling, the talons on his fingers displayed in full. The hair across the nape of my neck snapped to attention, reminding me of the graphic way he’d stopped a wolf from attacking us years ago.

          Maybe this wasn’t Soren. I lowered my gaze to the drawing at my feet. He stepped closer backing me against the tree, his thin brows pinched together as he studied the drawing. He looked back at me, wide-eyed, and planted his hands on both sides of my head. Somehow, we fell inside the tree.

          We plummeted into a wind tunnel. His arms locked around me as he spun my body around until our heads were up and our feet were down.

What the heck just happened? I didn’t recall this part.

Warm shimmering light surrounded us, making the violet color of his eyes opalescent as we free-fell in this make-shift elevator of air.

“Becca,” he whispered and nuzzled my neck. “You came back.”

My eyes moistened. “Soren, I’ve missed you.”  His earthy cocoa-spice scent doused my olfactory in memories. The three days and nights we’d spent together, climbing the tree, finding mushrooms, swimming in an icy pond, enjoying campfires…until my parents found me wandering the forest alone.

We never went to that forest again for our spring mushroom hunts.

All this time I thought the tree and Soren were figments of a child’s wild imagination. I returned to the forest in hopes of finding the tree, where I’d first fallen asleep so long ago. I lifted my head away from Soren’s shoulder to study him closer. His face appeared more human. The fangs had receded. His ears lost their pointed tips and his nose wasn’t so snout-like.

The tunnel opened into a vast terrain of vegetation, thistle huts, pools, gardens; a whole underground civilization. Our descending slowed until our feet rested on solid ground.

“Where are we?” My focus went ballistic, attempting to take in everything at once.

Soren tapped my chin, closing my mouth.

I laughed. “We didn’t come here as kids. I would have remembered it, especially the trip down.”

“No. Our kind never brings humans here.” He grabbed my hand.

No humans? My stomach roiled and my knees shook then folded. The whole falling through a tree into another world of beings wasn’t connecting inside my brain. A living nightmare might work as not one human knew where I’d gone, too hard to explain a child’s quest.

“Becca, you must stand, now, or everyone will know.” He pulled me up and wrapped an arm around my waist. “We must hurry.”

I jerked to a stop. “I don’t understand. Why did you bring me here?”

“Shhh. No scene. Come now.” His nostrils flared and he eyed the gathering crowd. “Explain in a moment.”

A pack of wolves came to mind. My stomach flipped a couple more times at their red eyes, flaring nostrils, and growing fangs and claws.

Soren yanked me along a narrow grassy path, the others followed on our heels. Their snarls and growls closed in. Soren lifted me in his arms and ran toward a large round hut. He pushed through the fabric-like doorway into a cool dimly lit room. Not one of the creatures entered after us.

“They want to hurt me. Or eat me. Why did you bring me here?”

He set me on my feet and motioned for me to sit on the cot in the center of the room. Then he slid my sleeve above my wrist, his fingertips touched two small scars. “Those are what called you back. I marked you long ago, as you slept, with the intention of giving you another that bonds. It is why we were attacked. Spring is our season to bond, no matter what age, we bound our mate and when the age is ripe, like now, we mate for life.”

“Instinct brought me here? You told me humans aren’t allowed.” My heart beat into my ribs so hard my body moved to its pulse. A mix of emotions swept through me in a shiver.

“There are no humans here, only our mates and us.” His face morphed, fangs extended.

“No.” My voice a mere whisper as he pushed me back and his fangs sank into my neck.  



To see books by this author – check out author pages below:

DK Davis BWL Publishing Inc. Author Page: http://bookswelove.net/authors/davis-dk-ya-paranormal/

S. Peters-Davis BWL Publishing Inc. Author Page – http://bookswelove.net/authors/peters-davis-s-suspense-paranormal/

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Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Happy Un-Anniversary by Ginger Simpson


Del walked into a haze-filled house. His wife, Annie, stood in the middle of the room, fanning the air with her apron while the smoke detector blared an earsplitting tune. He snatched the contraption from the ceiling and ripped out the batteries.

“Cooking again, are you,” Del asked, trying to hide a blossoming smile. He tossed his cell phone and car keys on the counter and hung up his jacket. This wasn’t the first time she burned his dinner. At the rate Annie set off the detector, they should own stock in that company with the nonstop bunny rabbit ad. Luckily, there was more than one route to his heart, and it certainly wasn’t through his stomach as the saying went.

Annie dipped her chin to her chest. “I so wanted this new recipe to work.”

He crossed the room, rested an arm around her shoulders and gave her squeeze. “It’s okay sweetheart. I’m sure whatever it was would have been delicious.”

Rather than be cheered by his words, she hid her face with her palms and sobbed.  "I'm a disaster in the kitchen.” Her muffled words came out between hiccups.

He pulled her closer. “Now, now, everyone has different talents. I wish I could sing like Pavarotti, but I sound more like Gomer Pyle. You just don’t happen to be Julia Childs.”

She peered up through eyes brimming with tears. “But I wanted to surprise you with a romantic dinner.”
 
"I know....I know." He pulled her into a one-armed cuddle.
 
A determined look spread across her face and, she turned back to the counter. “I’m going to try again, this time I’ll pay closer attention to the directions.”

His gaze wandered to the dining room and a table set with fine china, candles, and wine glasses. Dear God! His breath stopped short of a gasp. He’d forgotten an important date. There was only one thing to do to save face and stop her from poisoning them both.

He crossed the room and removed the knife from her hand. Cupping her chin, he gazed lovingly into her eyes. “You can test your recipe another time or you’ll spoil my surprise. Go get cleaned up. I’m taking you out for a special dinner and, if we’re lucky, a night of dancing.”

Annie’s eyes widened. “Really?” Her brows rose in an inquisitive arch, but straightened when she smiled. “Oh, sweetheart, you shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble.” She stood on tiptoes, gave him a peck on the cheek, then hurried upstairs.

Del waited until she was out of sight, then digging frantically through the desk, found the phonebook and scanned the yellow pages for restaurant phone numbers. On a week night, surely he could make a last minute reservation and still be his wife’s hero. What would one more little white lie hurt when he’d already told so many about her dismal cooking skills?

Success…he hung up the phone. Reservation made and even flowers ordered. He’d pulled his plan off without a hitch and felt pretty proud of himself…until the sound of someone clearing their throat caught his attention. He swallowed hard, turned, and saw Annie at the bottom of the stairs.

She stood with folded arms. “So, you planned to surprise me with dinner and dancing, huh?”

“Well, you see…I-I… Okay, okay, you caught me.” His shoulders slumped. “I forgot our anniversary.”

Annie’s somber look mellowed. She collapsed into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“It isn’t our anniversary, silly.” She walked closer. “I wondered what you meant earlier, but I decided to see where this was going. What gave you the idea this was the day we got married?”

“Well, you said it was a special night, a-and I just assumed…”

“Oh that.” She waved a limp wrist at him. “I didn’t mean special for you and me, silly. The special is on Lifetime Television…it’s all romance night again. I thought if I fixed a special recipe for an early dinner, we could cuddle up and watch some movies together. You know… before we go up to bed.” She lowered one eyelid in a sensuous wink.

He cracked his knuckles and flashed a sheepish smile. “Well, in that case, I think I’ll cancel dinner out and order in.”

Del had a plan, too. A little pizza, a romantic movie, and when they went upstairs, he’d end up getting a gift he hadn’t counted on…especially on a Wednesday night. Lifetime movies acted like an aphrodisiac on Annie, and, for sure, tomorrow he’d be sending the cable company a special thank-you note.












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