Pond Life and Other Dark Tales

By Phill Campbell

Malign forces lurk beyond the confines of our reality, waiting for a chink in the armour of unbelief to let them through.
They can take many forms ...
A dust-storm that engulfs a sleepy desert town ... A singer who sells her soul to obtain a fabulous voice ... An imaginary companion whispering words of comfort to a troubled child ... A scarecrow, made and burned every year, who one day decides that enough is enough ... A herd of phantom swine that kindle a young girl’s libido ...
This collection of tales will make you believe that the darkness that hides beyond the light is seldom as empty as you think ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angela B. Mortimer
• Release date: Jan 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311444059

Phill Campbell

UK resident. Artist, illustrator and writer, with a Fine Art degree from Liverpool University. Sings tenor with the Manchester Lesbian and Gay Chorus (MLGC). Interests include: Golden Age SF, comparative religions, anthropology and shamanism. Has won several short story awards and competitions; has also had work published and performed on stage. Is currently writing and illustrating the sequel to Shell Song.

Book preview

Pond Life and Other Dark Tales

by

Phill Campbell

Copyrighted Material

Pond Life and Other Dark Tales

Copyright© Phill Campbell 2015

ISBN: 978-1311444059

Published by Smashwords

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Contents

On Wings of Song

By a Thread

Blood in the Water

Pond Life

Weapon

Johnny Jackshaw

Hog Fever

Dust

Distant Voices

Madeleine

On Wings of Song

Magira appeared out of nowhere and dazzled the operatic world. She stepped onto the stage a fully formed diva, like a butterfly emerging from the chrysalis of obscurity. Her shimmering, silvery voice touched the hearts of all those who heard it – the voice of a siren wedded to the body of a goddess. It seemed natural to speak of her in mythic terms. Even from the start she was somehow larger than life, as if she breathed Olympian air. I remember the first time I saw her, at a private concert arranged by one of the planetary entrepreneurs. She drifted into view through veils of irradiated vapour, swathed in an opalescent gown that left her arms and shoulders bare. Before she uttered a sound it was obvious that we were in the presence of a legend. The regal poise of her head and neck, the ironic slant of her smoke-blue eyes, proclaimed her divinity to her already adoring audience. She surveyed us for a few moments with a cool, confident smile, expertly prolonging the tension. Then she took a slow, deep breath, opened her mouth and sang, releasing that voice into the enraptured air. I remember the sense of shock I felt when I heard it for the first time, as if it was an entirely new sensation that no human had experienced before.

After the concert, my host introduced me to her.

‘Magira, this is Midas Finch, the impresario. Be nice to him. He could do your career a lot of good.’

She drew closer to me and the crowd seemed to melt away. I realised that her charm and beauty were not based on theatrical illusion. ‘Midas – that’s an unusual name. Do you possess the golden touch of your mythological namesake?’

‘I have enjoyed a certain amount of success in our profession, chiefly because I have an eye for talent and a knack for showing it off to the best advantage. Would you like me to do the same for you?’

‘And if I said yes, how would you display my talent?’ she asked with smiling mockery.

‘My dear, with your siren’s voice, you could stand on a garbage heap dressed in rags and still the world would flock to hear you sing. But a precious setting enhances even the most flawless jewel. I could present you to the public against a variety of perfect backgrounds, each one designed to display a different facet of your genius. That is my particular talent.’

‘An impresario extraordinaire,’ she laughed, ‘I think I would be in safe hands. May I come and see you sometime soon?’ I gave her a locator chip containing my business address and she took it from me gravely. ‘If you accept me as your client you will have to let go of everyone else,’ she warned. ‘My time is short, Midas Finch, and I intend to reach the top before Fate overtakes me. I will need your undivided attention to help me to achieve that goal.’

‘I understand,’ I said, accepting the bargain and all that went with it. I bowed and left her; and she turned back to the crowd as a queen to her courtiers, masking her face with smiles and laughter.

This marked the beginning of an association that lasted for over a year and which was the highlight of my career. I arranged a series of concerts for her at the most prestigious interplanetary venues, using all my considerable resources to do so. Magira stepped fearlessly from one triumph to another, ascending the ladder of stellar success. The magic of her voice knew no boundaries. Instead of appealing only to an elite group of opera devotees, the music-loving public adored her. She became a popular icon, her performances beamed into the homes of billions of eager admirers.

My feelings towards her were complex. Although I appreciated her aura of beauty and glamour, my age and my sexual preferences prevented me from falling in love with her. I think she knew this and felt at ease with me as a result. She certainly trusted my professional judgement and her behaviour to me was always warm and cordial.

‘It’s not enough for me, Midas – not enough.’

‘What do you mean, Magira? You’re at the pinnacle of fame, adored by billions. You are beautiful, wealthy, gifted and famous. What more is there than you already have?’

She was restless and preoccupied. She stared out of the hotel window at the lights of the city far below, as if they represented some distant, unattainable goal that all her striving would not enable her to reach.

‘When I first started out I believed that this was all I wanted. But fame and adulation aren’t enough. I need to achieve much more than this … and I am almost out of time.’

‘You said something similar when we first met. What’s wrong, Magira – are you ill?’

‘No, it’s nothing as simple as that.’ She turned away from the window and paced across the room. She was still wearing her stage