Night of One Hundred Horrors - A Rhyme for Hallows Eve [#133]

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           Did you hear, did you see? In the forest near, a secret by the trees in a group of three.

           Don’t you know, can’t you tell? They hide a secret below, one deeper below than a well.

           If you were perchance, to visit the trees of three at the stroke of midnight on hallows eve, you’d be in for more than a simple treat. The stars and trees would begin a dance, a barrage of sights and sounds you simply won’t believe, as you’re suddenly pulled off your feet.

           I’d say to be calm, but you should be afraid. The ground will part with the force of a bomb, and the world around you will begin to fade.

           Within the earth you’ll be pulled, away from home, and all you have known. Down the rabbit hole you’ll be rolled, and then your new reality will be shown.

           What will you see? Oh, something most lovely, indeed. Pillars will surround you in a group of three. All you possess and own, you’ll be forced to cede.

           Stripped bare and alone, you’ll sit in the circle of stone. Your fate has been sown, all you’ll be able to do is lay prone.

           Whatever happens next, it’s hard to say. Something will come to annex, and you will be theirs to play.

           If you wish to shed all that you are, and throw yourself into eternity, well I can offer no better alternative. However, if you wish not to spend the rest of your life in a jar, and remain in a world of modernity, then that’s your own prerogative. 

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I've got nothing much to say today so happy Halloween and don't go lurking near any mysterious groups of trees.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy 

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Eclectic Narratives #13 - A Sudden Passing [#132]

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           ‘It truly was good to be home,’ the nobleman thought as he departed his room in the early morning. Last night’s rest had invigorated him in a way he hadn’t felt before, as though a weight was lifted from his shoulders. He felt chipper and upbeat, confident the day would be a pleasant one. However, as he came down into the family room, the mood was anything but happy.

           “I’m sorry to be the one to inform you, sir, but,” the butler informed him upon his entry, “Your grandfather has passed away. He fell from his bedroom window.”

           The nobleman was taken aback, his mood dropped as reality set in. He and his grandfather had always had their differences, but his death was so sudden it shook him to his core. He had only just spoken to his grandfather the night before. It was a brief discussion, but he never expected it would be the last time they spoke. He silently wished he had stayed longer.

           “I had always told him to have the window latch fixed,” his grandmother stated at some point in the blur of a day. Such a dark day, marked only by the mourning of his relatives. The butler did his best to remain professional, but the nobleman could tell he struggled to maintain a stoic expression. He twitched as though he was uncomfortable in his own skin. This cycle of mourning and anxiety continued into the late evening.

           “Sir, there is something I must say,” the butler approached the nobleman as the family scattered to be alone. “I have seen many things in this house that I have kept to myself. All of it for the sake of the family. However, I must say it may be in your interest to look into your grandfather’s room.”

           “Is there something amiss?” The nobleman found himself asking.

           “Possibly so,” the butler replied.

           The nobleman found the butler’s statements to be strange, but he also knew the butler would not be so brazen without reason. Thus he made a point to enter his grandfather’s room that night.

           The room was as he expected, more of a study than a bedroom, filled with more books, letters, and notes than anything else. The window remained open, likely in case the police wished to investigate, but everything else was in its place and pristine. Except for one place, a small table with an opened bottle of fine wine and two empty glasses.

           As the nobleman observed the alcohol, a foggy memory surfaced. A time he was drinking with his grandfather, a rare moment of cordiality between them. A fond memory if there ever was.

           ‘Wait, when did we?’ The nobleman tried to remember, yet the time of the memory remained foggy. ‘Strange, I know it was recent,’ he pondered.

           ‘What did I talk to him about last night?’ The nobleman mused. ‘No better yet, what didn’t we talk about.’ It was strange, he only recalled the short conversation at the door, yet he felt as though they had talked for hours. After that, he doesn’t even remember making it to bed.

           ‘Such a strange night,’ he commented as he left the room. ‘Could I have...? No, what nonsense,’ he dismissed the thought. ‘It would be better to leave grandfather’s death as nothing more than an accident.’ 

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They say character is what you are in the dark, this is doubly true if not even you know what you are doing.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy

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Strang Sci-fi Tales - All Clear [#131]

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           His job was to monitor space stations, and ensure they always sent an all-clear signal. If they didn’t, or he sensed something fishy, he’d have to report it to his superiors. Thankfully, he was in charge of a tranquil sector of space. The worst he had ever reported was a malfunctioning radio.

           Everything preceded as usual this day until he noticed something odd. A very distant station, one he barely knew existed, had flickered between an all-clear signal and nothing at all. It started with a half-hour of silence, then the signal came back for the same amount of time. Then it went away for about half as long and vice versa.

           Eventually, the all-clear came on permanently, and so it remained. He felt he should be concerned, but nothing was happening that warranted a report. That was exactly it, nothing was happening, at all. Was that a bad thing? Isn’t no news good news?

           If there were a problem, obviously there would be a distress signal, unless the station had lost power. Even then, the station should have a backup distress signal with its own generator. However, those tended to have a shorter range, so if that were the case, he wouldn’t be able to detect it.

           He could report an oddity in the station’s behavior, but he doubted anyone would care. He could draw special attention to it, but the station was sending an all-clear, so what was the point? It should be fine, he’s already done his job. If there’s really a problem, someone else will notice, right? 

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There's also a temptation to push aside work that isn't necessarily yours. After all, someone will do it eventually, right?

Don't forget to take a look at the previous stories in the loose series, Recovery, Shut Out and Distress.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy

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Strange Sci-fi Tales - Distress [#130]

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           The space station had gone dark, that’s all she could tell. The small flashlight she kept on her person did little to illuminate the bridge. The room, only minutes ago lit up by dozens of monitors, was now dark and foreboding.

           Everyone else had left, each insisting they knew how to fix the problem and that the bridge was useless now. She stayed behind in case the power came back on its own, although she was fairly certain now that it wouldn’t happen.

           Nothing had changed in half an hour, and an uncertain dread had crept up her spine. Something told her this problem wouldn’t be fixed anytime soon. With that in mind, she decided it was better to be safe than sorry.

           A hidden panel, along the back wall, revealed the only powered monitor in the room. Tied to its own backup generator, this computer would only fail in the worst of circumstances. It had no connection to the network or mainframe; it only had one purpose, sending distress signals.

           Some would call her paranoid for resorting to this machine so quickly. Most didn’t want the baggage that came with sending a distress signal. The reports, the investigations, the scrutiny from superiors. She didn’t care, she wanted to ensure the station would receive help sooner rather than later.

           A few keystrokes and administrator passwords later, the highest alert distress signal was activated. She could finally breathe a sigh of relief. She was almost dizzy from the stress and anxiety and quickly took a seat by a window.

           As she stared into the field of star outside, she assured herself she did the right thing. It was a preemptive measure, she’d catch flak for it, but was confident it would be worth it. Her breaths became heavy as the dizziness consumed her further. She decided to take a nap, maybe if she were lucky, rescue would arrive by the time she woke up.

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You're only paranoid if you're wrong.

Also be sure to read the previous stories in this loose series, Recovery and Shut Out.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy

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Strange Sci-fi Tales - Shut Out [#129]

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           He was only supposed to pop out of the space station for a small fix. Reattach a crooked panel and make sure nothing was damaged beneath it. Right as he finished his work, a mere moment before he would go back inside, the whole station went dark. His radio went dead, his light went dark, the only thing that worked was the hose that connected him to the station and fed him much needed air.

           “Very funny guys,” he joked, “turn the lights back on and let me in.” He knew that wasn’t the case, yet he still called out in the vain hope he was wrong.

           “Just give it a few minutes, an hour at the most, and everything will come back online,” he assured himself.

           Minutes ticked by, and nothing changed. No movement in the station, not even the glow of a flashlight in one of the windows. His heart sank as he broke out into a cold sweat.

           “No, this isn’t happening, someone has to fix this,” he declared. Yet, time still moved ever onward, and the station remained dark. He quickly lost track of time, uncertain if he floated there for minutes or hours.

           “I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine,” he repeated, “I’ll be fine, I have to be. It’ll all work out, it always does.” He never felt so small before, the space station seemed to loom over him like a dark tower. Everything felt off and alien, like he had been snapped out of a daze and realized nothing was familiar. The size of his own hands felt wrong, the shape of the station felt off, the empty space around him seemed suddenly hostile.

           “Please let me be fine, please let me be fine,” he prayed as his breaths became heavier.

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It's scary how easily the simplest of tasks can go horribly wrong, even for reasons that were not your fault.

Also be sure to check out the previous story in this loose series, Recovery.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy 

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Support me on Patreon: [link]