Beyond The Door: Volume 2: Secret Societies Anthology: Beyond The Door Anthology, #2

By Serena B. Miller, A.B. Alvarez, Derek E. Miller and Jesse R. Lyle

Four authors. Twelve stories. Another writing session with only the 
unknown before them.

In the pages of Beyond the Door Volume 2 can be found stories about:
- a dangerous beauty seeking revenge
- the power of words
- espionage during the Civil War
- fraternity hazing with a dangerous edge
- election tampering from the future

The authors from Beyond the Door Volume 1 have come together again to 
mine their imagination for more visions of time lines only they could 
discover. Clones, child detectives, first ladies, and missing 
pregnancies mask a reality only they could survive to tell the world.

If an open door is an invitation then consider this a taste of what 
you'll find inside.

They are halfway through the deck.

Q: What was it like to write these stories without the others in the room with you?

A.B. Alvarez: Who says I wasn't in the room with the others? Just because they couldn't see me. I mean, I wasn't in the room with them. At all. Not under the bed or in the closet which BTW needs a good cleaning. I was home sipping a fine Merlot while watching the ships travel down the Hudson. While I wrote about pits covered in sharp pointy pieces of glass. That takes a lot of concentration and focus.

Serena B. Miller: After editing your stories, Alvarez, I think a little less Merlot might be in order?

Jesse R. Lyle: Bittersweet. Since I didn't have to listen to the droning-thunderous striking of keyboard keys from overzealous-caffeine driven digits, I could actually think straight, but I didn't get to trade attempted witty remarks with my fellow companions.

Derek E. Miller: It was a dream. I was home enjoying a fine Craft Artisan Amish made Root Beer listening to the neighbor's dog bark way too much. But all that commotion was still better than listening to Alvarez constantly make laser sounds as he would write his futuristic scifi stuff.

Q: Derek E. Miller, during your tour of duty in the military what was it like interacting with the aliens from Area 51?
A: Turns out I was well prepared.  Dealing with New Yorkers like Alvarez more than prepared me for interaction with an alien species.  One of them even gave me two t-shirts.  They have printed on them, "I Love Zork" and "The Big Abbsou." 

Q: Jesse R. Lyle, based on your fictitious medical degree from Johns Hopkins, did the details about genetics in your story help you make better breeding decisions about the multi-legged organisms you have running around your home?
A: Oh, without a doubt my fictitious medical degree helped more than a legitimate medical degree. And yes, she might be a genetically created multi-legged organism, but she's my little multi-legged organism. MuHahaha

Q: Serena B. Miller, after reading Sunny I can see you owning multiple guns and not being afraid to use them. Have you ever sneaked into a foreign country with the express intent of overthrowing its government?
A: That depends. Has California attained foreign country status yet?

Q: A.B. Alvarez, the last time you went time traveling did you find your doppelganger?
A: Is that question for me? I've never gone time traveling. If I did would I be here? Multiple time streams don't make any sense. That doesn't mean I haven't been visited by others who purport to be from a different time stream. Meet my doppelganger? Don't be silly. What would I do if I met myself? Kill him and take his place? Of course not! He might try to kill me and take my place. By the way: why did you call me A.B. Alvarez?

• Language: English
• Publisher: L. J. Emory Publishing
• Release date: Mar 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781940283470

Book preview

Beyond The Door

Beyond The Door

Volume 2: Secret Societies Anthology

Serena B. Miller A. B. Alvarez Derek E. Miller Jesse R. Lyle

L. J. Emory Publishing

Beyond the Door Volume 2: Secret Societies Anthology Copyright © 2019 L. J. Emory Publishing

Published by L. J. Emory Publishing

Cover and Layout copyright © 2019 L. J. Emory Publishing

Cover & Interior design by Jacob Miller, L. J. Emory Publishing

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved.

All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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ISBN: 978-1-940283-46-3

ISBN: 978-1-940283-47-0 (eBook)

Invisible Woman © 2019 by Serena B. Miller

The Switch Society © 2019 by Derek E. Miller

Embracing Shattered Glass © 2019 by A. B. Alvarez

Bower Legacy © 2019 by Jesse R. Lyle

The Rocky Bottom Detective Society © 2019 by Serena B. Miller

Masked Trials © 2019 by Jesse R. Lyle

Power of Words © 2019 by Derek E. Miller

Bastard © 2019 by A. B. Alvarez

Eagle Unleashed © 2019 by Derek E. Miller

Fortuna’s Head © 2019 by A. B. Alvarez

Heterochromia © 2019 by Jesse R. Lyle

Sunny © 2019 by Serena B. Miller

Contents

Foreword

Invisible Women

The Switch Society

Embracing Shattered Glass

Bower Legacy

The Rocky Bottom Detective Society

Masked Trials

Power of Words

Bastard

Eagle Unleashed

Fortuna’s Head

Heterochromia

Sunny

About The Authors

Also by A. B. Alvarez

Also by Serena B. Miller

Also by Derek E. Miller

Foreword

Who doesn't love Secret Societies?

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When Derek came up with the theme for this edition all of us stared at him and I thought, Now I'm in trouble.

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So maybe I didn't think that. Maybe I thought, I wonder what's for lunch?

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Or perhaps: how am I going to write three stories about secret societies when the entire world is made up of secret societies? And I'm not in any of them? Or at least none I'm willing to admit to...

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Think about it. You and your friends constitute your own secret society. You might not have any explicit bylaws or board meetings, but there are all sorts of unwritten rules (that are often broken). Don't tell on your friends, hold each other to a higher/different standard, and don't tell anyone where the bodies are buried.

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Especially, don't tell anyone where the bodies are buried.

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Speaking of which, there are a few bodies in this edition. Some alien, some quite human, some just parts of humans. The only rules we (Jesse Lyle, Derek Miller, Serena Miller, and I) have are:

write only characters you're willing to torture

write like someone is walking up behind you with a large knife

give all the jalapeño jelly to A.B.

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I swear, those are our rules. Even the last one (given how much I like jalapeño jelly, especially the last one).

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Yes, that would make us our own secret society...except for the secret part.

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Unless you think of it this way: it is still secret. Only now you're one of us.

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Watch out for the broken glass.

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ABA - February 2019

Invisible Women

Serena B. Miller

A woman who changed the future of the world with a dustcloth and a mop.

Iemptied Mr. Davis’s chamber pot again this morning. The poor man has been having an awful time with his bowels lately. Seems the longer this war goes on, the worse that chamber pot of his stinks.

I don’t mind emptying it, though. Somebody has to, and it surely won’t be him. The president of the Confederacy is way too important to empty it himself.

Things have been going wrong with Mr. Davis’s innards for a while now. I think his stomach trouble might possibly be caused by all this bad news he’s been getting. Things are not going well. Not at all. His wife, Miss Varina, is convinced that the southern troops are about played out and thinks her husband and his generals should stop fighting and give up. Her telling him this at the breakfast table makes him angry and upset. This is rarely a happy household these days.

There has been much tension in the air lately. Mr. Davis complains constantly that the people aren’t supporting has leadership. Also, no matter how well he and his officers strategize, General Ulysses S. Grant seems to constantly anticipate what their next move will be and is alarmingly quick to use counter measures.

Mr. Davis’s officers suspect that they might have a mole, a spy of some kind, sending information to someone in the north. They tighten their security, but nothing seems to help. Plans, munitions, strategic maps, continue to leak out somehow.

I think this is probably the reason Mr. Davis has such bad stomach trouble. The poor man is trying to be a good leader, but he is worried sick most of the time. The success of the Confederacy lies directly on his shoulders, which is a heavy burden. Or perhaps, he’s been eating something that doesn’t agree with him. Who knows?

Miss Varina is very worried. She tells him this ailment has been going on too long and wants him to call in a doctor. He tells her to leave him alone. He’ll talk to a doctor later. General Lee is coming to see him next week and they have war business to attend to.

White people’s business is none of my concern. I keep quiet and do whatever they tell me to do. Things are always better for my people when we keep quiet and do what we are told to do, or at least to appear to do so. In this household, it’s best to not bring attention to yourself at all. Mr. Jefferson is always upset. Miss Varina has a sharp tongue and uses it on all of us. William, the new coachman, who drives her wherever she wants to go, doesn’t like her at all. He calls her a devil behind her back.

I’ve been working at the Davis’s nearly two years. A neighbor of theirs, Miss Elizabeth Van Lew, loaned me to them after some of their help took off for the north. The Davis’s were in a terrible fix. They needed servants to survive because they don’t know how to do anything for themselves.

Poor Miss Varina can’t even get herself dressed in the morning by herself. It’s not her fault. The clothes white ladies have to wear are complicated. I know exactly how complicated because I’m the one who helps her put that mess of fabric on every morning and take it off every night.

I dress her hair, too. She likes to have it brushed. Says it calms her. She has pretty hair, long and silky. I brush for a long time every evening while she sits there in her robe in front of her dressing mirror, talking about how good it feels to have all those miserable clothes off. The more I brush, the more relaxed and talkative she gets. I like for Miss Varina to be talkative.

Miss Varina worries out loud every night, the words rushing out of her mouth, talking more to herself than to me as she sits in front of that mirror. She worries about all the things that white women with important husbands have to worry about. Lately she’s started wishing she could leave Richmond and go live in New York City. Also, she’s worried about keeping her figure after this third baby. She worries about catching another baby with Mr. Jefferson too soon. I think it probably won’t happen too soon, what with Mr. Jefferson’s bowel problems, and him being old enough to be her daddy. But I don’t say anything. I just keep quiet and brush and brush.

I think it is nice of Miss Elizabeth to share her own servants with the Davis’s, even though it means doing without, herself.

Miss Varina don’t like Miss Elizabeth very much. Calls her crazy Bet behind her back. Some of the other white ladies do the same thing.

I guess they’re right. I suppose Miss Elizabeth is a little bit crazy. After old Mr. Van Lew died, she gave freedom papers to all of us her daddy used to own. That cost her a lot of money. It probably was crazy, except we surely did appreciate it. Some of us took off up North, some of us stayed right here. I stayed here because we had plans. I’d do a lot for Miss Elizabeth.

I told her once that Miss Varina and the other women call her Crazy Bet behind her back. She laughed about it. Said she thought it a fine idea to make people think she’s crazy. She started deliberately acting odd. Wore out-of-style clothes when she went to town and an old hat that didn’t match. She’d stuck an old playing card in the hatband. Right in front, like she thought a King of Spades made a real nice decoration. I tried not to laugh when I saw it. Started talking to herself when she was in public.

With the war starting to go bad, a lot of people have felt the strain. They overlooked her eccentricities for a while. After all, she’s one of the wealthiest women in town, and that means a lot around here. Then Miss Elizabeth invited some of them to a fancy tea party. When they got to her house, they found out there wasn’t any food or tea. Miss Elizabeth was having the kind of tea party like when little girls pretend to sip air from their tea cups and pretend to eat sandwiches that aren’t there. Miss Elizabeth even set a plate for her dead mama, too, and talked to old Miss Lucy like she was sitting there among them.

I heard all about it that night while I brushed Miss Varina’s hair.

After the tea party, most of the woman started crossing to the other side of the street when they saw her out strolling around town and talking to herself. They don’t say anything mean to her, they just pretend not to see her most of the time. Like she’s invisible. Miss Elizabeth says being invisible can be a good thing. She says being invisible can be a powerful thing for a woman. Says she has a lot more time to do what she wants to do now that people have stopped calling on her.

Miss Elizabeth is not married. I think she’d be a good wife and mother, but there’s not many able- bodied white men around these parts anyway these days. The war has eaten up most of them. Lots of boys lying in graves all over the south. The ones still alive are either off fighting, dying of malaria and dysentery, or making their way back home the best they can after losing an arm or leg or their mind.

I remember my mama, but I never knew who my daddy was. Miss Elizabeth says she’s sorry, but she thinks my daddy might be