Tricks & Treats

By Stephen D. Sullivan

Four frightening tales. A couple visiting a Ren Faire takes a terrifying trip in "Renaissance Fear." The "House of Mirrors" shows an aging bombshell that her past may be her future. A family of human canonballs risks everything when they plunge "Into the Fire." Finally, some Halloween pranksters get more than they bargained for in the Frost Harrow prelude: "Tricks & Treats."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephen D. Sullivan
• Release date: Oct 25, 2010
• ISBN: 9781466111387

Stephen D. Sullivan

Stephen D. Sullivan has written more than 50 books across many genres: fantasy, SF, horror, detective, movie adaptations, and more. Readers the world over enjoy his fast-moving prose style and hard-hitting action sequences. He has won numerous awards for his work, including the 2016 Scribe Award for his horror-comedy novel, Manos: The Hands of Fate.Not sure where to start? Try these:NEW! Manos: Talons of FateBEST SELLER: Manos: The Hands of Fate (2016 Scribe Award Winner)HORROR & MONSTERS: Daikaiju AttackFANTASY: Tournament of Death novelsSCIENCE FICTION: Heart of Steam & RustADULT: Elf Erotica (Elf Princess on Mars)OVERVIEW: Martian Knights & Other TalesThere are plenty of others to choose from, too. (Including some books from other authors published by Steve's Company, Walkabout Publishing.)Browse! Buy! Enjoy!

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TRICKS & TREATS

A Quartet of Terrifying Tales

Stephen D. Sullivan

• Walkabout Publishing •

Smashwords edition.

© 2010 Stephen D. Sullivan

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Walkabout Publishing

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P.O.Box 151

Kansasville, WI 53139

www.walkaboutpublishing.com

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, scanning, or any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the author.

Cover art & design © 2010 Stephen D. Sullivan.

CONTENTS

1. Renaissance Fear

2. House of Mirrors

3. Into the Fire

4. Frost Harrow: Tricks & Treats

Samples of Other Stories

Ghosts of 9/11

Crimson & Dragons

Monster Shark

About the Stories

About the Author

RENAISSANCE FEAR

Lizard on a stick! Get your lizard on a stick!

The street vendor loped through the dirt pathways between the colorful tents and muddy paddocks, holding aloft his sample of wares—a collection of brownish, lumpy ribbons of fried meat, each skewered on a thin strip of wood. The young scraggly-haired salesman eyed the crowd on either side of the path, looking for likely customers.

Lizard on a stick! he called again.

Caroline Shaw clapped her hands and squealed, as though she were a girl of half her actual age. She clung excitedly to her fiancée’s arm, pulling him close, and spoke urgently into his ear.

Let’s get some! she breathed in a voice too loud to be truly conspiratorial. "What do you think it really is?"

Chicken, probably, Karl Lomax replied. Spicy fried chicken.

Untrue, milord, the vendor put in, his bright white smile belaying the period grunge of his dingy, rag-like costume. ’Tis lizard—as the Good Lord is my witness.

Karl shot him a very skeptical look.

"Alligator, the vendor added, whispering. Then, falling back into character, he threw his arms wide and made a comically frightening face. This ’gator be a monstrous, dragon-like lizard, hunted in the wild swamps of the southland. Many knights fell riven beneath its claws to bring this delicacy to our fair land."

I thought hunting alligators was illegal, Karl said.

The vendor frowned at him and spoke out of the corner of his mouth, as though trying not to let the others attending the fair hear. Okay, he hissed, "it was raised on a gator farm down in the bayou."

"Not quite period fare, is it? Karl said. They didn’t have alligator in Renaissance Europe."

The vendor shrugged, and the faux-rags on his skinny frame rustled. Perhaps ’tis crocodile, from the Nile delta, then, he said. "My sources remain unclear on this point. But ’twer a terrible, great lizard, milord. And lizard be a well-known delicacy throughout this fair land. He held out the lumpy fried thing on the thin stick and added, If you should but try it, your senses would thank you."

Karl remained unconvinced.

Karl, Caroline said playfully, "they didn’t have Renaissance Europe in eastern Kentucky, either! Get into the mood, would you? She elbowed him playfully in the ribs. We’re on vacation. Seize the day."

Thy fair maiden’s advice be sound, milord, the vendor agreed. Then, laying his hand next to his mouth and speaking in a stage whisper, he added. "’Tis said that the flesh of the dragon has powerful aphrodisiac qualities, milord."

Caroline laughed and clapped again. Let’s get some.

Yeah, okay, Karl said, a begrudging smile tugging at the corners of his lips. How much?

That be four single paper notes per skewer, the vendor said.

Is this where I should haggle? Karl asked hopefully.

Alas, haggling be outlawed by the master of the Vendors’ Guild, milord. The lizard seller frowned. My deepest and most sincere apologies.

Karl nodded at the vendor, then smiled at Caroline as he handed the money over. Keeping his eyes fixed on his fiancée was the only way Karl could avoid wincing at the price—real alligator or no.

The ragged-costumed vendor handed over the food and then bowed, flashing his twenty-first century smile once more.

Thank you, milord, milady, he said. Fare you well. He turned and hobbled theatrically down the muddy street.

Caroline Shaw put her arm around Karl Lomax’s waist, and the two walked down the crowded marketway as they chewed on their fried ’gator. Colorful tents of many shapes and sizes lined the sides of the unpaved thoroughfare. Each pavilion shared the common goal of separating the fairgoer from his money. Most were dedicated to selling wares, though a few provided services—massage, body painting, soothsaying.

Karl didn’t need a fortune-teller to know his wallet would be a good deal lighter by the time he and Caroline continued on their vacation that evening. The sign outside the town had read, "Knightshead Kentucky—Sister City to Knightstor, England". Karl thought that if they stayed at the Renaissance Faire long enough, it might have been cheaper just to go to England.

Fog surrounded the tent city, making it seem strange and unreal. The mist added to the period effect that the fair sponsors were trying so desperately to achieve. In the fog, attendees could almost overlook the electrical lines snaking into the backs of most of the tents, or the Velcro fasteners that held so much of the fabric together. The mist made the participants’ costumes look better than they were, too. From a distance, Karl could almost believe that he was looking at historical English peasants going about their daily business—historical peasants with great dental work.

This fair midway seemed larger than most of the others he’d been to, though perhaps that was a trick of the light as well. When the fog parted a bit, Karl almost thought