The Home Advantage Collection

By Option 1

A collection of seven short stories by Option 1. Each story falls somewhere on the border of horror, science fiction, or the psychological thriller genres. Stories range from a home invasion that doesn't go exactly as planned (the title story) to a dissertation by a South African scientist on the science of memory. Each story appears simple on the onset but tells a tale of the duality inherent in human experience. A loving father can also be a horrible monster. A scavenging alien can be the disaster we've all feared. The greatest discovery in the history of man might leave us lost and forgotten. A global phenomenon gone wrong can change a generation of our children... Every story explores some facet of choice, consequence, or simply bad luck in the process of our human expression.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Option 1
• Release date: Dec 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311217158

Option 1

Musician, writer, streamer. A traveling teacher; a triple threat triumvirate of telekinetic tonal triumph telescoped taut through totalitarian triangulation.

Book preview

The Home Advantage Collection

By

Option 1

Copyright 2015 © Soul Interpol L.L.C.

Table of Contents:

Foreword

Synopsis

Home Advantage

It's the Smell

Stop Me If You've Heard This One

Monster from the Story

Subtle Changes

What Happened Last Night

The Salesman of Tomorrow (Prelude Chapter of Oneironaut)

Closing

Foreword

Duality is present in every imprint of the human existence. Duality- for those who don't know- is the ability of a thing to be completely contrasting in nature; possessing qualities from both sides of a given extreme. Grey is a mix of both black and white, the most delicious foods are both salty and sweet; a person can be both loving and angry at the same time.

Perhaps the most frightening thing in our humanity is the ability to be sensitive, kind, empathic, selfish, and willfully destructive all at the same time. If I were a horror writer, I would write about this duality. Unfortunately I'm not a horror writer, just a teacher who's seen a few things in my travels. Does it make for good fiction? Only you can judge.

Contained in this collection are seven short stories that border on the horror, psychological thriller, and science fiction genres. Some are short; some are long. In no way were they meant be read from start to finish in one sitting; I've included below a short synopsis for each story so that you may 'cherry pick' which stories you would like to read according to what sounds most interesting.

It should also be noted that these stories were written over the course of months; some of them will be more focused and legible, others may seem succinct and existential. All of them have been edited by myself for best readability but please excuse my dust if a few grammatical (or punctuation) errors remain.

I hope you enjoy reading these stories as much as I have enjoyed writing them and for those of you who purchased this collection to support my stream, a special thank you.

-Option

Synopsis

Home Advantage

Michael Chesney is not someone you want to come calling. No matter how good things may look from the outside, sometimes the most dangerous people are the ones living next door.

It's the Smell

A skeleton crew is at work on the Moon's surface digging holes to bury the world's trash. Landfills may have moved away from Earth but that won't stop the decaying smell of garbage from attracting a few scavengers.

Stop Me if You've Heard This One

A studied South African scientist recants an interesting story about his recent work in memory regression to the Afrikan Social Sciences Council. His story may answer the classic question of if it's better to forget the things that haunt us.

Monster From the Story

A young boy wants a bedtime story and his loving father is happy to oblige. Sometimes fairy tales have real life implications and this one will have you wondering what the true moral is.

Subtle Changes

A 'butterfly effect' story that borders on dark comedy. It's the little annoyances we can't live without and the disastrous consequences when we break the natural order.

What Happened Last Night

This story couldn't be more generic if it tried to be… but that doesn't make it bad. If nothing else it asks questions about the stupid decisions we make; if it's staying out late getting drunk or being the first nerd in the lab to volunteer.

The Salesman of Tomorrow

The prelude chapter of my first full length novel: 'Oneironaut'. It may not read like a self-contained story (because it's not) but if it does its job right, it should whet your appetite for further reading.

Home Advantage

Chesney watched Mrs. Carter through the binocular lenses in the safety of the driver’s seat of his 1978 Trans Am. The Carter family had been an easy mark to follow: rich, carefree, and about as unassuming as sheltered wealth gets. He didn’t need the binoculars to figure out how easy it was going to be- he had done the due diligence- they were more to get a closer look at Mrs. Carter specifically.

Chesney had been watching the family for a just over a week. He wasn’t hasty; being engaged in this profession for quite a few years he had learned the more time spent making preparations beforehand the smoother everything would pan out. Clean-up had also become less laborious lately, but that may have been his accumulated familiarity more than from any planning.

Through the lenses Chesney saw a familiar sight: Mr. and Mrs. Carter walking out the front door of their half million dollar home, Mr. turning back to give Mrs. a perfunctory good-bye kiss before climbing into his foreign made sedan and driving down and out of the wealthy cul-de-sac on his way to work. Mrs. Carter stood at the edge of the drive waving until Mr. Carter’s car was out of sight; Chesney chucked at such a picturesque scene of the American dream. Chesney’s eyes hung on her form as she lazily strode back up the newly paved drive to the immaculate two-story home. She was certainly attractive: young, athletic build, dusty brown shoulder length hair, with full hips and slender thighs snugly wrapped inside a pair of well-worn cotton yoga pants. The anticipation was his favorite part; too soon it would be over and that familiar unsettling hunger would creep its way back into his stomach.

His mouth began to salivate in the hot car as he dropped the viewing lenses in the empty passenger seat, reached under the steering wheel to pop the trunk, pulled his keys from where they sat in the ignition, opened his door, and stepped out into the bright summer morning. Walking around the back of the vehicle, he reached into the trunk and pulled out a fully packed duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. He had parked a ways down the street outside of the circle drive parallel to the Carter house’s position in the circle. The morning sun felt good on the back of his neck as he walked the few hundred feet up the sidewalk leading to the Carter family drive. Radiating heat waves emanated from the clean black tar of the pavement and in the distance he heard faint communal sounds of dogs barking, water splashing in chlorinated pools, and children enjoying their time away from forced education. Fortunately for Chesney, the cul-de-sac which contained the Carter residence was devoid of any playful activity and the sounds of carefree summer diminished as he closed the distance to his target.

Instead of approaching the house directly, he nonchalantly continued past the front door and around the left side of the house. He had walked this path a few times already and knew the first window on this side of the house opened into a half bath just off the main entranceway. The window was a few feet off the ground and a row of neatly trimmed bushes were arranged directly underneath. The cropped foliage made a perfect makeshift ledge on which he set the duffel bag. Unzipping a front pocket on the parcel, he reached in and withdrew a couple of toys: a hunting knife holstered in a well-worn brown leather sheath and four eight-inch black plastic cable ties. He wedged the cable ties into the leather holster alongside the blade and tucked the entire package into the backside of his pants, pulling his shirt down to conceal it. With a slick smile, he left the bag to rest and casually walked back to the white painted front door. He pressed his index finger against the doorbell until he heard a telltale DING-DONG from the other side of the entrance. He didn’t wait long before Mrs. Carted opened the door with a welcoming smile.

Good morning! Can I help you?

Chesney noted a naive kindness in her voice; he feigned an innocent nervousness in response. Good morning. Are you Mrs. Carter?

Yes..?

Oh, good, he said with a well-acted sigh of relief and a hearty smile, This might be a little strange but my name is Michael Chesney. I’m, uh, purchasing 2103, the house across the circle there. He pointed over his shoulder at a large house with dark windows and a realtor’s For Sale sign posted on the front lawn. Miss Lesale of New Century Properties gave me your name and said if I had any questions about the neighborhood I should knock on your door.

Sure! She answered with a carefree laugh, Oh yes, you mean Valerie; she helped us get settled into this house. Come on in, I’ll grab us something to drink and we can chat.

Are you sure? he asked with a serious sounding reservation, You don’t know me from Adam and I don’t mean to intrude.

Not at all! She reassured him, If you’re moving in I’m sure we’ll see lots of each other anyway. Don’t be shy now.

Thanks, he answered in a soothing tone, I certainly could use something cool to drink on a day like today.

She laughed again as she turned back into the house, This weather is something else, isn’t it? C’mon.

The entranceway was a large open room with thick white carpeting and high ceilings, as he entered Chesney thought it had the smell of house not yet broken in. Getting inside the Carter home was exactly as difficult as he expected and it helped that Chesney looked the part: trim figure, cropped dirty blonde hair, a chiseled face that betrayed his age, soft eyes, and a warm smile nobody could turn away. He wore a light blue blended cotton V-neck t-shirt that showed off his neckline, complete with a creased pair of black dress pants and matching black leather shoes. He possessed the cadence of a man of wealth, distinction,