Changeling

By J.S. Veter

Cameron's past refuses to stay put.

Cameron's been receiving messages for most of his life. They appear randomly: on the back of receipts, tucked into library books, floating in the bottom of shopping trolleys.

It's a mystery where they come from, but one thing is becoming clear: together, they spell out a warning.

Together, they're telling Cameron to run.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shoestring House
• Release date: Feb 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781989001004

J.S. Veter

J.S. Veter is the author of three novels and has published short stories in Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Luna Station Quarterly, New Realm, and Seventh Star Press’ anthology Thunder on the Battlefield: Sword. Liked what you read? Please take a minute and leave a review at Amazon,  Goodreads or your favourite site? Reviews are food for an author's soul, and I read every review I get. The best way to support authors you enjoy (other than by reading their books!) is by sharing and reviewing. Thank you!

Book preview

A while ago, I began following a page on Facebook called Writers Write. They posted useful tips, amusing memes, and generally made themselves useful to writers like me. Then, I came across a post inviting writers to join 12 Short Stories, in which we would pit our words and our ideas against a monthly prompt and word count. Now, my New Year’s resolution was to be more productive, and this happened to fit right in. Also, the opportunity for feedback from people not related to me was very exciting. The first prompt arrived, then the second, and then when the third came I realised that the characters in my first story and my second story were related. Then I wanted to know how. Then I wanted to know what had happened to the lady in the sink. Then I wondered if her son had this same problem. I realised that what was happening was I was writing a serial story... and I was at the mercy of monthly prompts and word counts. I’m Canadian. It’s just not in my DNA to not follow the rules. 300 words meant 300 words. Exactly.

Easy.

Many thanks to Mia Joubert Botha for spearheading this madness, writerswrite.co.za for hosting, and the many writers who shared their worlds and words, encouragement and enthusiasm. I wrote considerably more than 12 short stories in 2017, but these ones are for you.

COPYRIGHT © 2018 BY J.S. Veter

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First Printing, 2017, on www.12shortstories.com

Fargone First Printing, 2016, in Luna Station Quarterly, December 2016

ISBN 978-1-989001-00-4

Shoestring House

85 Creighton Road, Dundas, Ontario, Canada L9H 3B7

www.shoestringhouse.ca

Cover image: Majcot via Shutterstock.com

Contents

1. The 38th List

2. And the Kitchen Sink

3. R U N

4. White Lies

5. An Explanation

6. Coming Undone

7. An Invitation

8. Conflagration

9. Break Out

10. Changelings

11. New Iteration

12. End Note

FARGONE

1. The 38th List

Prompt: the list | word count: 1500

Y ou know that feeling like you’re being watched? the cashier asked, handing Cameron his receipt.

Yeah, sure. In fact, he felt it right now, a prickling at the nape of his neck.

Cameron wheeled his trolley to the car, keeping an eye out. It would be waiting for him somewhere. On the ground, left in the bottom of another trolley, maybe even tucked in the bottom of one of his grocery bags.

Sure enough, as he was pushing his empty trolley into the cart return, there it was: a small square of green paper. Cameron always knew one when he saw one. He could go months without getting any message at all, but then it would happen. The prickling at the nape of the neck, and then, minutes or hours later, the note.

It had been snowing, but the snow in the car park had melted. The note was stuck to the wet asphalt. He peeled it carefully from the ground and lay it out in the palm of his hand. It was a woman’s handwriting this time. She had used large loopy letters, and green ink. She’d probably dotted her i’s with hearts when she was younger. Butter, she had written, milk, eggs, TP. And then, across the bottom, the following: ‘The universe is a large place, Cameron.’

Cameron had no idea what it meant of course. He never did. All the messages he got were like this, a little esoteric, a lot snooty. When he had been younger, he been very impressed by the ideas. In his 20s he thought they were very highbrow. Now they just pissed him off. What the hell was this supposed to mean?

Still, when the universe sends you messages is best not to ignore it. Cameron did with this note like he had done with all the others, he placed it gently into his wallet and took it home.

Cameron’s scrapbook was looking a little rough around the edges. It had travelled with him all over the world, after all. It had been all over Canada and had backpacked through Europe. It had even seen Japan. It had lived in houses and apartments and, for three weeks, a yurt. As Cameron opened it to paste the latest note in, Rob walked past the bedroom door.

You got another one? he asked. Let me see. Of the family Cameron had left, Rob was the only one who gave a damn about Cameron’s lists. He had any number of theories, the most common one being that of the two of them Rob deserved mysterious notes much more than Cameron did. 

"Van! Remember I told you about Cam’s secret admirer? He got another one!

Van was Rob’s latest girlfriend and one Cameron actually liked. She poked her head into the room, said Do you mind? to Cameron and when Cameron shook his head in she came.

It’s not an admirer, Cameron told her.

You think I pay attention to him? Can I see it?

Cameron handed her the scrapbook. Van looked around for a place to sit, then perched precariously on the edge of Cameron’s dresser. She smiled a bit at the drawing on the cover and asked Cameron how old he been when he started it.

About 11, Cameron said.

And you kept all of them?

I kept them in an old shoe box for a while, then I got the scrapbook for a birthday present. Had no idea what to put in it so I put in those.

Van open the book. The first list had been written on the back of a receipt, an inch and a half wide and six inches long. What had been purchased on that day in 1975 Cameron couldn’t remember. He had glued it face down on the scrapbook because what he was interested in was what was on the back. It was written in a sharp slanted cursive and black ink: dog tag, dentist, cleaners and library. And then, sideways up the length of the receipt, the following: ‘You need to pay attention to this, Cameron.’ And it had been underlined. Twice.

Cameron had been eight years old. It had been his name that caught his eye. It never