October Sci-fi & Fantasy

By Top Writers Block

Top Writers Block brings you 9 sci-fi & fantasy tales to read during the breaks in your day. Aliens, ghosts and dolls do their best to worry you or make you smile. They might even frighten you. All the authors' proceeds go to Sea Shepherd (France), who devotes itself to protecting our oceans and seas and the life within.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Top Writers Block
• Release date: Nov 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311612373

Top Writers Block

Top Writers Block is a diverse and eclectic group of talented writers who decided to write stories together - just for the fun of it! Our collections are usually written with one theme or genre in mind. Each author contributes when they have the time, so some of the collections have as many as twelve authors participating. Every collection has something new, with stories and poems ranging from romance, drama, and adventure to mystery, fantasy, and horror.

Book preview

Collection of Short Stories

by

Top Writers Block

on the theme of Sci-fi or Fantasy

October Sci-fi & Fantasy

Copyright©Oct. 2014 Top Writers Block

Published on Smashwords

ISBN: 9781311612373

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

http://suzystewartdubotbooks.weebly.com

Smashwords License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook 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 recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

Credits

Cover design : Suzy Stewart Dubot

Table of Contents

RIPPLE by Barnaby Wilde

COULROPHOBIA by Melissa A. Szydlek

BENEATH THE TARP by Don Bick

BLUE HAZE by Suzy Stewart Dubot

ANNIVERSARY LIGHTING by John Muir

DREAMS II by Tracey Howard

IT’S HOW THINGS ARE by Melissa A. Szydlek

VISITORS by Barnaby Wilde

BECAUSE IT’S EVIL by Melissa A. Szydlek

An English writer of quirky verse, short stories, detective fiction and novels with a sense of the ridiculous, now retired from a career in manufacturing and living in the South West of England.

Ripple

by

Barnaby Wilde

Copyright: Barnaby Wilde September 2014

I never used to believe in ghosts.

But, now, I'm beginning to wonder if it isn't the ghosts that don't believe in me.

There have always been people who've seen ghosts, of course. Or, perhaps I should say that there have always been people that claim to have seen ghosts. In earlier times, in simpler times, when people were less well educated, when technology was less advanced and when the church was more powerful, it's perhaps not surprising that more folk believed in the spirit world and the existence of phantoms, spectres, ghosts, call them what you will, but I, for one, was firmly rooted in the present and believed that these sightings were, at best, mistaken. At worst, I considered them to be the ravings of the delusional, or the gibberings of the simple minded. On the whole, I didn't consider them at all and dismissed such talk as harmless twaddle. Mostly harmless, that is. I guess there will always be those that can conjure harm out of almost anything.

I saw my first ghost a little over three months ago.

It wasn't a headless horseman, a woman in a crinoline, a red Indian chief, or even a crying child. What was so surprising about the encounter, apart from the encounter itself, of course, was the sheer banality of it. I was in my own home, watching the re-run of an old film on the television, when I became aware of someone else in the room. He, for it was a man, didn't walk through any walls, or materialise in a flash of light and a puff of smoke. He was simply sitting in the neighbouring armchair, watching the same television as me.

I wasn't aware of him arriving, I simply became aware that he was there.

My first thought was that I must have dozed off and that this man, not someone I recognised, had arrived while I was asleep, perhaps let in by my wife. Maybe it was a friend of hers? Perhaps she was even now making tea or coffee for him in the kitchen. I had no idea.

I'm sorry, I said. I didn't notice you arrive. You must think me very rude. I think I may have dozed … . It became apparent that the stranger was taking no notice of me whatsoever. My voice trailed off and I wondered for a moment if I were dreaming the whole incident.

And then … then he wasn't there anymore.

His disappearance was as remarkable as his arrival. Which is to say, that it wasn't remarkable at all. It's just that he wasn't there anymore. He didn't get up and walk away. He didn't explode in a shower of sparks. He didn't even slowly fade away to nothingness. He just wasn't there anymore.

I began to doubt my own eyes. Had I imagined the whole thing? Had I been asleep? Who was the person that I'd just … just what? Had I seen someone, or simply conjured a figure from my subconscious? I stared at the empty armchair for a while, ignoring the TV that was continuing to drone away in the background.

What's up? my wife asked, as she walked back into the room. She was carrying two mugs of tea on a small metal tray. You look as if you've just seen a ghost.

She put the tray down on the small side table between the two armchairs and sat down in the now vacant chair next to mine.

Are you OK? she asked, when I didn't answer.

Hmm. Yeh, I nodded.

You don't sound very sure. You aren't feeling ill are you?

I shook my head. No. No. I'm fine. It's just ….

What?

Oh. Nothing, I said, and turned back to the film. She continued to watch me for a few moments, before turning her own attention back to the television. I couldn't concentrate, though, and kept flicking glances in her direction, as if expecting that she would be suddenly transformed into the man I'd seen earlier.

We aren't expecting any visitors, are we? I asked.

No. Why are you asking?

I shook my head. Nothing, I said. But I had seen something. I was certain of it. Almost certain, anyway.

It was just one day later that the man was back again. It was the definitely same person, though he'd changed his clothes in the interim. This time, though, he walked into the room, paused, raised one hand slightly, with his forefinger pointed vaguely towards the ceiling, as though he might have forgotten something, turned on his heels and walked back out. I was momentarily rooted to the spot and it was several seconds before I followed him out into the hallway, by which time he was nowhere to be seen. This time there was no doubt in my mind that I'd seen something.

My wife was in the kitchen, preparing vegetables for our lunch. Is there someone in the house? I asked.

She looked at me, oddly. Only us. What made you ask that?

I just saw a man walk into the sitting room.

Didn't you ask him what he was doing there?

I didn't get a chance. He walked back out and … This was going to sound stupid, even to me.

And what?

And then he wasn't there anymore.

Is this a joke?

I shook my head. No. I've seen him before, though.

"What do you