A Snowball's Chance in Hell And Other Stories.

By Lee W. Lindsay, Jr

Ever wonder what would happen if a demon found a snowball in Hell? This short story collection just might answer that question. Included are two fantasy stories about Edmond Thunderstaff, a warrior turned farmer with a secret. Next is a story with a vengeful spirit of a murdered wife, followed by a story featuring a lost girl found outside an old ruined store near Blythe, California. And the final story is straight from Hell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee W. Lindsay, Jr
• Release date: Dec 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310261848

Lee W. Lindsay, Jr

A former archeaologist, Lee Lindsay is a student of Japanese culture and a black belt in Karate. He lives with his wife in a small town in Oregon, where they are staff to three cats and their library.

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A Snowball's Chance in Hell

And other stories.

By

Lee W. Lindsay, Jr.

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Lee W. Lindsay, Jr.

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Table of Contents

The Spinning Wheel

Will-o'-the-Wisp

Dark Woods, Dark Hearts

The Spiral Gate

A Snowball's Chance in Hell

About the Author

The Spinning Wheel

The early morning shadows faded as the sun drifted above the far eastern mountains. The morning dew became the warm musk of sun-warmed spring leaves and fresh-turned soil from the small plot of land near a diminutive, two-room, sod house. A giant, old oak tree stood near the front of the house. Next to the house a tall stack of wood cured. A lanky, grizzled, brown-haired man sat on an old stump. Smoke from a long-stemmed pipe with a dragon-head bowl drifted out and curled around the old man's head while he carved a six-inch piece of oak. Under his nimble fingers, the wood transformed into a figure of an ugly, squat troll. The old man blew off some wood shavings and grunted.

Not quite right yet. he muttered in a soft, gravelly voice, Still need to work the face to make it look like that troll.

Edmond, come here please. The request drifted from the house.

Edmond calmly stood up and put the carving down. He sheathed his knife as he walked to the house. Stepping to the door, he leaned against the frame. He smiled as he looked at the woman with salt-and-pepper hair framing a face decorated with laugh lines. She wore a plain cotton dress with a clean, well-worn apron. One hand lay on an old, battered spinning wheel while her other hand rested on her ample hips.

What ya need, Lilly? asked Edmond.

Lilly turned to her husband with a soft smile.

This spinning wheel is broken. Can you fix it? I told Dorothy I would have her yarn ready by the next full moon so she'll cast that spell to keep the potato blight away. Lilly gave the wheel a spin with her finger. The wheel wobbled and stopped. I'll to have to work day and night spinning by hand. She frowned slightly. I wish we had a new spinning wheel, then I could finish her yarn in a couple of days. She looked up at Edmond. I don't suppose we could get one from the elves?

A puff of smoke circled Edmond's head.

I suppose, but the elves've been doing a lot o' selling to them folks down at Marsh Harbor. They've taken to upping their prices, so I don't see how we could afford to pay what they'd want. he scratched his chin, I don't know that I approve of elves gett'n into commerce. They're way too sharp for humans to keep up with.

The old man ambled over to the spinning wheel. He poked and prodded at the wheel and uprights. He tweaked the maidens and the flyer and tested the leather driving band. All the time, ribbons of smoke wafted out of his pipe moving in and out of the spinning wheel. Finally, Edmond straightened and gave the wheel a twist.

Not good. He shaved off a piece of firewood, dabbed it with a bit of grease from a can Lilly kept near the spinning wheel, and tapped the wood into the space between the axle and the wheel. Edmond spun the wheel.

That'll take care of it for a bit, Princess. We got a couple extra bags o' spuds out in the cellar. That preserving spell is still good. This time o' year good spuds will fetch a price in Askfordton. Maybe enough to get a good, used spinning wheel from old Clancy, him getting Lord Askford's left-overs 'n all. I'll head down there and see what I can get. He took his pipe out and tapped it on the fireplace, knocking out the gray ash. I could be back by tonight, but Clancy'll want to haggle and gossip and share an ale or two and a story or three. Best figure that I'll be back by tomorrow night.

Edmond gave Lilly a kiss, recharged his pipe with the sweet-smelling dried leaves, put more of the leaves in his pouch, and took his staff from its place above the door.

Edmond soon settled a rope tied to two bags of potatoes over his head so that it hung off his shoulders and around his neck with the bags dangling on either side of his chest. Before entering the wooded area, Edmond turned around to look at his small house in its little clearing. He smiled at his wife standing by the door, waving. He waved then turned and continued down the weed-choked path, puffing wistful curls of smoke from his pipe.

***

Edmond didn't mind the two mile walk down the path to the main road. Nor did he mind the eleven mile trip to the small valley where Askfordton sat. He enjoyed taking the main road, traveled by people on foot, horseback or by the weekly stage from the capitol near the far mountians to Marsh Harbor, fifty miles beyond Askfordton. Edmond moved along, whistling and humming to himself.

Three miles from where he turned onto the main road, Edmond paused. The road made a bend about a hundred yards further on before crossing a small creek. Edmond listened. A loud shout came through the wood, a yell of pain. Steel clanged on steel, then another yell choked off. Edmond moved fast. He turned the bend and crossed the small wooden bridge.

Edmond saw a man with dark graying hair, a golden circlet and a blue tunic defending himself from three scruffy thugs in filthy shirts and kilts. The man backed against a tree and stood with a sword in front of him. He moved carefully, hobbling from a crossbow bolt in his left leg. Edmond's eyes lit up in recognition. He shrugged off his potatoes and loped toward the fight, passing three horses tethered near the creek and the bodies of the King's two guards.

Hey, you three had best leave off before you get what's a-coming to you! Edmond yelled.

Two of the thugs turned towards Edmond, the third kept his eye on the king. One of the thugs facing Edmond laughed. He seemed filthier than the others, his shirt a muddy gray with splotches of his latest meal on the front. If his kilt had clan colors they had long since disappeared under the dirt, yet his sword gleamed, well tended and well used. He turned to the second man.

Here Pete, this old sodman thinks he can scare us with his little stick. You and Mac finish our assignment for the Lord Prince. I'll kill this stupid hero.

The thug raised his sword and walked to meet Edmond. The others turned back to the king.

Flee, man, save yourself. yelled the King as he blocked a thrust from Mac.

The thug started toward Edmond. Edmond moved toward him. The thug took a short swing, his mouth a sneer and his eyes glimmering. Edmond's staff spun and the thug watched his sword spin off fifteen feet away. Before the pain of his shattered wrist could reach his mind, Edmond's staff spun twice more, the last blow breaking the thug's neck.

The other two thugs saw the King start. They turned and saw Edmond advance over their fellow assassin, a steady stream of smoke coming from his pipe. Pete sheathed his sword and pulled his crossbow from his back, setting a bolt in it, aiming at Edmond. Mac