All the Lovely Creatures

By B. C. Sirrom

When Victor Frankenstein crafts his infamous creature in Mary Shelley’s masterpiece, he creates something that is a patchwork not only of men but of ideals, of emotions. Out of many, he is one. Indeed, this anthology you read now is something similar, though I do say quite a bit more pleasant to encounter than the fruit of Victor’s labors!
What precisely does the word creature conjure in the imagination? Something frightening? Something unknown? The authors of the stories you are about to read had this question to consider and not one of them came up with exactly the same answer as another of their collaborators.
The initial reaction to such a question might be to recoil, to think of something unsettling or scary. But then one must consider the creature itself. How does it react to its state of being? It’s surroundings? Does it enjoy killing men or does it loathe violence? Is it predator or prey? Do humans simply fear it or try to combat the creature themselves?
It’s the reaction that makes the creature, not the state itself of being an outsider to mankind. You will read in these pages about various supposed monsters, and they all behave differently. The creatures in these stories are everything from horrifying killers to sympathetic lovers to misunderstood beings trying to fit into human society, each one with its creator’s personal stamp placed upon it. This anthology was born out of a desire to come together as authors, out of a sense of community, and the reader can certainly feel this as well. Despite the occasionally-gruesome or unsettling subject matter, this is a labor of love, we promise!
The idea to create a compilation was posed by author B.C. Sirrom on the Paranormal and Horror Lovers group on Goodreads in May of 2012. The idea took off immediately, with eight writers contributing to the work and several others offering to help with editing and cover art. But what was to be the topic of such an anthology?
After much deliberation, the topic of creatures was chosen, an emphasis placed on the unique and the cultural. The rules were simple: the story must be in the paranormal or horror genre and between five and ten thousand words. While mature content was allowed, it was not required, and contributors had to be willing to assist with editing. With the ground rules in place, the authors set out to craft their tales.
This specific topic is one that not only fit the overall theme of the group itself, but also one that allowed the authors room to breathe, room to create and thus, room to craft a collection of well-fitted stories that will entertain, thrill and horrify.
No matter what the word ‘creature’ initially brings to mind for you, the reader, that is only the beginning

• Language: English
• Publisher: B. C. Sirrom
• Release date: Oct 9, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301395606

B. C. Sirrom

Originally from rural West Virginia, Sirrom currently lives in Tennessee with her husband. She studied architecture and landscape architecture, earning degrees in both. She loves creativity in all its forms: art, music, literature, etc. B.C. has always enjoyed storytelling, but until recently never put one of her stories to paper. Writing began as a way to relax during graduate school. No one knew she was writing until her first novel, Solstice Night was under contract. She writes stories that she would enjoy reading, such as fantasy, sci-fi, mystery and paranormal romance. Now working full-time, B.C. still finds time to write every day...well, almost.

Book preview

All the Lovely Creatures

An Anthology by Good Reads Group – Paranormal & Horror Lovers

Published by B. C. Sirrom at Smashwords

SMASHWORDS EDITION

SMASHWORDS EDITION LICENSE NOTES

Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please visit the author's website for other works. Thank you for your support.

Cover Art by Emily Joyner

Stock by Smoko_Stock

http://creativehaven.org

Dedication

To the authors for contributing their talent; the cover artist for her imagination; and the group for sustaining the energy to see this project through.

Table of Contents

Forward by Jennifer Rainey

No Such Thing by S. J. Bell

Into the Burning by Charlotte Dhark

The Wager by Lisa Goldman

Obeah Love Affair by C. C. Hartley

A Girl and Her Mirror by Mark Mackey

The Bargain by Rebecca Nolan

The Little Death by B. C. Sirrom

Dance of the Valkyrie by L. M. Smith

Forward

By Jennifer Rainey

When Victor Frankenstein crafts his infamous creature in Mary Shelley’s masterpiece, he creates something that is a patchwork not only of men but of ideals, of emotions. Out of many, he is one. Indeed, this anthology you read now is something similar, though I do say quite a bit more pleasant to encounter than the fruit of Victor’s labors!

What precisely does the word creature conjure in the imagination? Something frightening? Something unknown? The authors of the stories you are about to read had this question to consider and not one of them came up with exactly the same answer as another of their collaborators.

The initial reaction to such a question might be to recoil, to think of something unsettling or scary. But then one must consider the creature itself. How does it react to its state of being? It’s surroundings? Does it enjoy killing men or does it loathe violence? Is it predator or prey? Do humans simply fear it or try to combat the creature themselves?

It’s the reaction that makes the creature, not the state itself of being an outsider to mankind. You will read in these pages about various supposed monsters, and they all behave differently. The creatures in these stories are everything from horrifying killers to sympathetic lovers to misunderstood beings trying to fit into human society, each one with its creator’s personal stamp placed upon it. This anthology was born out of a desire to come together as authors, out of a sense of community, and the reader can certainly feel this as well. Despite the occasionally-gruesome or unsettling subject matter, this is a labor of love, we promise!

The idea to create a compilation was posed by author B.C. Sirrom on the Paranormal and Horror Lovers group on Goodreads in May of 2012. The idea took off immediately, with eight writers contributing to the work and several others offering to help with editing and cover art. But what was to be the topic of such an anthology?

After much deliberation, the topic of creatures was chosen, an emphasis placed on the unique and the cultural. The rules were simple: the story must be in the paranormal or horror genre and between five and ten thousand words. While mature content was allowed, it was not required, and contributors had to be willing to assist with editing. With the ground rules in place, the authors set out to craft their tales.

This specific topic is one that not only fit the overall theme of the group itself, but also one that allowed the authors room to breathe, room to create and thus, room to craft a collection of well-fitted stories that will entertain, thrill and horrify.

No matter what the word ‘creature’ initially brings to mind for you, the reader, that is only the beginning.

No Such Thing

By S.J. Bell

I disliked Jonathon Crawford immediately. He was the kind of New York hipster who was completely insufferable to anyone outside his social circle. If you wanted something from him, your best course of action was to relentlessly kiss his pretentious, materialistic ass. If not, your instinctive response to his presence would be a nearly-irresistible desire to punch him in the face. Between his Buddy Holly glasses, Harry Potter scarf, mismatched clothes, corduroy jacket, and a head of hair meticulously coiffed to convey the impression that he hadn't spent any time at all preparing it, the smugness and disdain was palpable.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn’t just the care that Crawford put into his appearance which bugged me. My boss Gerald was also very concerned about how he presented himself. He could spend half an hour in the morning preening over his thick black hair and goatee, and he wore suits all the time. Although he didn't look a day over thirty, he was a product of the early Victorian era, and looked the part. Looked it almost too well, in fact. One of the reasons the patriarch had apprenticed me to Gerald was the hope that I could help him to stand out less.

But Gerald, despite some rough edges, had respect for others. Mr. Crawford, by contrast, was the type of person who was totally and utterly convinced that he was just plain better than everyone else. Arrogance rolled off him as a thick and heavy miasma, like stench rolls off of garbage.

I was glad that I didn't have to talk to him. Being merely an assistant, I could hide behind my computer and play Minesweeper while listening in and controlling my baser urges.

So, uh…, Crawford said, paranormal investigations, right?

Gerald nodded. It said as much on the door.

That means you investigate hauntings?

Among other things, Gerald said. Do you believe you are being haunted?

Well, not me specifically, but yeah, my building's haunted. I think. Melanie thought it might be something about dimension vortexes or something. I think she was high at the time, she's a great girl, but she thinks it's still the six-

Sir? The facts?

Crawford blinked, not used to being interrupted. Uh, right, right. Well, I own an apartment building over in Williamsburg. It was my grandfather's, see, and when I inherited it, is was a run-down place with only a few tenants. I had a little money, and a few friends who liked the area, so I kicked the old tenants out, renovated the place, and turned it into a co-op. It's a great place to live. Well, it was until the rich pricks started moving into the neighborhood...

The haunting, sir? Gerald asked.

Crawford frowned. I was getting to that. It started a while back, maybe… sixth months or so? At first it was simple things. Dreams, mostly.

Dreams?

Yeah, really freaky ones. Melanie had them first, so of course we all think 'Okay, Melanie's been hitting the weed a little hard lately.' But then Karl and Abby started getting the same dreams. Woke them up in the middle of the night, sweating.

Well, Mr. Crawford, bad dreams are not necessarily indicative of a haunting. Was Melanie vocal about these nightmares?

Crawford nodded knowingly. I know what you're thinking, man. Power of suggestion. Mass conversion hysteria. I thought the same thing. Thing is, it didn't stop. It got worse. Then just about five weeks ago, they stopped being dreams.

What do you mean, stopped being dreams?

I mean we started seeing things when we were wide awake. Like, hallucinating. Freaky as all hell, man. We'd be, like, hanging out in our living rooms or something, just chilling, and all of a sudden we'd see shit that wasn't there.

Hmm. What was the content of these dreams and visions?

Well, we'd be in our homes, doing whatever, or going about our business. Something normal, basically. When they were waking visions, it usually segues right in from whatever we were actually doing at the time. It starts with a feeling of… disquiet, I guess you could call it. Like something's off. Something that we couldn't place wasn't quite right. He snapped his fingers. You know, like when you get the sudden sense that someone's behind you?

Gerald nodded. Go on.

Well, we'd be feeling that, and then we'd look around and see we were alone. Then we'd see her.

Who?

The ghost. She's a young girl, late teens, ratty hair, ratty clothes, like a homeless person. Crazy look in her eyes. You see her, and then she comes at you screaming gibberish, and once she touches you… you snap out of it, screaming in terror.

Hmm. Has this happened to you personally?

He nodded. Yeah. Freaky shit, man.

Gerald slouched pensively in his chair. I see. And the experiences of the others are the same?

Pretty much.

Any chance it could be an environmental factor? Some kind of toxin?

Crawford gave a cocky smile. I know what you're talking about, man. No, that ain't it. We told Melanie to take her vices up to the garden. We got a garden up on the roof, you see, with sculptures and everything. Pride of the building. It's awesome.

Well, maybe something in the walls? In the water?

Crawford shook his head. God, I hope not.

You haven't checked?

I'd have to tear the place apart! I've already done that once before. If it is a haunting, then all I need to do is get it exorcised or whatever.

Gerald pursed his lips tightly, a gesture I was familiar with. He used it when he wanted to scowl at a client but didn't want to chase him away. Well, this is an unusual case, Mr. Crawford. If you don't mind, I'd like to come by your building and see it for myself.

They scheduled an appointment for tomorrow before shaking hands and saying farewell. As the door closed behind Crawford, Gerald turned to me.

Your assessment of the client, Mr. Thompson?

I want to bludgeon him to death with his own ego, I said. Wouldn't take long, it's very heavy.

Gerald chuckled. I can see where that impulse comes from, but be serious.

Seriously? Narcissistic, arrogant, egotistical…

All of which mean generally the same thing. His pride is significant, Kyle, but not all there is to him. Look deeper.

I leaned back in my chair. Well, he's materialistic, for one. Very concerned with appearances and possessions. If he had enough personal funds to renovate an apartment building, he probably comes from money. He takes a lot of interest in looking good. Maybe an inferiority complex or something. Desperate not to appear pathetic. A lot less smart than he thinks he is. He said 'mass conversion hysteria,' for example. Seems genuinely concerned about this haunting, though. Do you think it's a haunting?

Gerald shook his head. There is no such thing as ghosts.

I blinked. That's… resolute, coming from a two-hundred year-old vampire.

It is exactly because I am a two-hundred year-old vampire that I can speak with confidence on the matter. There is no such thing as ghosts. Banshees, werewolves, Greek sirens, nearly ninety percent of what you've heard about has some basis in fact, but no ghosts. I've been investigating incidents like these on the patriarch's behalf for the better portion of those two hundred years, and I have never seen anything to suggest that the spirits of the dead linger in the world of the living. Most of the hauntings I've looked at are the product of creaky old houses, superstitious minds, or guilty consciences.

And you think that's what's going on here?

No, not in this case. It's possible, but if Mr. Crawford's description was accurate, it fits the profile of another sort of supernatural happening. Something that I know for sure exists.

You have a theory?, I asked.

It's a psychic. She -- or he -- is projecting these hallucinations through telepathic contact.

For what purpose?

Possibly she's unstable. The human mind has a natural tendency to keep to itself, so most psychics instinctively repress their abilities. Many live their entire lives without even realizing they have powers. The progression of these incidents -- first dreams, than waking visions -- suggests a deterioration of control over her abilities. But there's another possibility, one which necessitates caution: this could be an act of deliberate malice on her part. You did a good job assessing Mr. Crawford, but you must also learn to extrapolate. Between his narcissism, his wealth, and his lack of intellectual mettle, he's likely to have a very poor grasp of the consequences of his actions. There's a good chance that this psychic was wronged by him in some way, and desires revenge. Or she could be doing it for profit. Scare away the tenants to ruin his business and force him to sell the place.

I narrowed my eyes skeptically. The old Scooby-Doo plot? I don't know, Gerald. Wouldn't that have people flocking to the place?

Tourists, yes, but not tenants. Visiting a mysterious place and living there are two entirely different things. In any event, we shall wait until we investigate the building itself before drawing conclusions. Bring your tazer tomorrow; we may need it if we catch the culprit red-handed. He picked up the phone on his desk and started dialing.

Who are you calling?, I asked

A friend of mine who may be of assistance.

Gerald's friend was a woman. We met up with her the next day, just outside the Bedford Avenue subway station. She looked about forty, and her waist-length brown hair was beginning to gray, but nevertheless she was strikingly attractive. If Olivia and I weren't so happy together, I might have asked her out. She wore a simple green sundress with an earthy pattern and a hairclip made of a felted flower. The flower was, I thought, a bit much. But it worked. Gerald introduced her as Vivian Willoway. She was a psychic herself.

Gerald also introduced her companion, a rugged-looking man of around thirty with stubble, a square jaw, and muscular, working-class hands. He wore a leather jacket over a t-shirt and jeans and glared silently at us from behind dark glasses. Gerald introduced him as Gavin Brown, adding that he had not been expected to join us.

Viv asked me along, Gavin explained in a thick Australian accent.

Your talents should not be necessary in this matter, Gerald replied.

Well, probably not, but I just happened to be in town today, I had nothing to do, and I figured, well why not? Another pair of eyes can't hurt.

From the way Vivian smiled as she leaned back against him, and the way Gavin's large hand held her so lightly by the waist, I guessed that there was another reason she asked him to join us. Gerald obviously figured the same, and he scowled.

Oh, there's that look again, Gavin said tiredly. Honestly, Gerald, do you always have to be such a grump?

This is business, not an event to which dates are brought.

Gavin clicked his tongue dismissively. A more sour man I've never known. He looked past Gerald to me. And this would be the new assistant you mentioned?

Uh, yes. I nodded, and somewhat nervously shook his hand. Kyle Thompson, nice to meet you.

Gavin nodded.

If you don't mind me asking, sir…, I continued, what is it that you do?

He smiled a large, intimidating smile. The smile of a jungle cat about to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. Troubleshooting.

I blinked. Troubleshooting.

He nodded in a slow and vaguely menacing manner.

And, uh… what kind of trouble do you shoot, exactly?

His serious expression broke as he laughed. Vivian snickered while covering her mouth and elbowing him. Even Gerald nearly cracked a smile. I flushed red with embarrassment.

Forgive him, Kyle, Gerald said, he likes to play these childish games with new acquaintances. Mr. Brown is a kind of freelance consultant. He travels around fixing anomalies for a variety of well-informed clients.

Anomalies?

Gavin launched into a short, cocktail-party elaboration of his job. Every once in a while, you find stuff that's weird even by paranormal standards. Things that violate the laws of the universe. Not just the average, everyday laws, but the unabridged rulebook that also incorporates vampires, psychics, and the like. Knots in the fabric of reality, you might say. I've got a particular talent that lets me see these knots. And, when necessary, I can untie them.

A talent which, while useful, shall not be necessary in this case, Gerald added. As I told Ms. Willoway, I am convinced we are dealing with a psychic here.

Well, friend, Gavin retorted, you've been convinced of things before, only to learn you were wrong. Who knows what we might find?

Gerald frowned.

Come on, Gerald, Gavin said, I offered to take Viv out today, and you know how hectic my schedule can get.

Gerald shook his head, but saw that it would take more time to get rid of Gavin than it was worth. Fine, he conceded. Our client's house is just down the block.

Gerald led the way down Bedford Avenue, and the rest of us followed at a few steps distance. Beside me, Gavin whispered to Vivian. Must he always be so caustic?

Vivian gently nudged him in the ribs. Hush, Gavin. He's an old man, and he's world-weary.

A curmudgeonly old fart is what he is. No patience for a young man who wants to spend time with his love.

Gerald wheeled around. Do you have something that you'd like to say to my face, Mr. Brown?

Not fazed at all to find Gerald suddenly in his face, Gavin shrugged. "Merely that you had done such a marvelous job insulating yourself from the petty distractions of life.