Enchanted Orbit

By Steven A. Simpson

Enchanted Orbit is a trio of tales that form a bridge between fantasy and science fiction. They explore themes of love, family, survival, and destiny. The Girl Whom the Dragon Tattooed is a a pure fantasy about a high school senior whose first tattoo transports her to a medieval world where dragons wage war on one another with human armies. Plague of Rainbows is a science fantasy that follows a survivor of a pandemic plague who has lost everyone he knows, and takes one last fishing trip before his end. Stasis — a pure science fiction story — was awarded an Honorable Mention in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest in 2018. It tells of a man who signs up for a six-year stint to mine an asteroid where he encounters the first intelligent machine.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steven A. Simpson
• Release date: Mar 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463799055

Steven A. Simpson

Steven A. Simpson is a graphic designer, artist, and life-long lover of fantasy fiction. Wizard Blues is his first novel, and the first of several that will follow the wizard brothers as they travel the wilds of Sunderland, battle the powers of evil, and wrestle with those who wish to use them to fulfill an ancient prophesy.

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Enchanted Orbit

Three Novelettes from Fantasy to Science Fiction

by S. A. Simpson

Copyright © 2018 Steven A. Simpson

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any

manner whatsoever without written permission

except in the case of brief quotations embodied

in critical articles and reviews.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious.

Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Book design and illustration by Steven A. Simpson

The Girl Whom

the Dragon Tattooed

Don’t tell ’em I said this. If you do, I’ll deny it. But I guess my parents were right in making me wait for a tattoo. I’m sure they made up a list of the dangers on my thirteenth birthday:

1) I’ll look like a tramp.

2) I’ll get hep C.

3) I’ll look like a gang member.

4) I’ll look like a tramp.

As it turned out, the third one was kinda close to true. But no, they couldn’t in their wildest dreams have imagined the real danger. Otherwise they’d have locked me in my room and boarded up the windows. No, this isn’t about a boy . . . more like boys, plural; men, really. Wait—that sounds trampy.

I’ll start again. It began on my eighteenth birthday. My friend Lily and I were set to go down to Dragonfly Tattoo that morning to get my first ink. I went with her a couple months earlier when she got hers—a lily—so creative! Anyway, the tattoo artist, Cal, seemed okay. Lilly got her lily on her thigh, and he wasn’t all skeevy working down there. He was good about cleanliness, too; he explained the autoclave (love that word!) and sterilization and stuff.

Lily came over and I grabbed my coat and yelled, Bye to my mom. She chased me to the door.

Oh honey, she said, all motherly concern. You’re doing it today?

Yeah, what am I gonna wait for?

But your party’s tonight.

Mom, it’s just a tattoo. I’m not going to be sick in bed after. I could tell she was running over the list in her head again. It’ll be fine. I’m just getting a little something like Lily’s.

My bestie was standing in the doorway and turned her leg to show the tasteful flower below her shorts.

Well, I guess I don’t have anything to say about it, now you’re eighteen.

Nope. The word came out sharper than intended, but she needed to get a grip already.

Anything more than a little flower would cost too much, anyway, I said, just to get out of there.

Dragonfly was close enough to walk. On the way we stopped for lunch at Burr-eato. Lily jabbered the whole time about what I should get inked. Flowers figured prominently. I’m lucky. There isn’t a flower called a Kelli, so I had an out. I’m five foot ten, wear my blonde hair in a choppy little bob, and have over-broad shoulders. The swim team and summer softball only added to my look—the beefy son my dad never had. Maybe a flower would soften me a little? Hmmm.

We were halfway there when Lily doubled over, literally bent at the waist, and let out this moan. Oh nooooo!

What’s wrong? I put my hand on her back and bent down trying to see her face, hidden beneath her waterfall of brown hair.

"That burrito was bad!"

But I had the same thing, I said, probing my own gut for signs of upheaval.

I’ve got to get to a bathroom!

They must have one at Dragonfly’s.

I’m not using the bathroom in that shit-hole.

Hey, I’m gonna have a needle poked into my tender flesh in that shit-hole. So did you! Some people are weird about bathrooms.

We were just a few blocks from her house by then, so she veered right where I was going straight.

I’m sorry, Kelli. I’ll come as soon as I can. Ooooooh! Lily called back at me as she walk-ran clutching her stomach. The poor thing. I couldn’t help her.

No, I’m sorry! I yelled. I’d have to wait six months to get another appointment.

I got to Dragonfly way early and Cal was still needling a guy in the chair.

Hey, Kelli. I’ll be with you in few minutes, he said. Did you settle on a design yet?

Not yet, I said sheepishly, and I’ve only been thinking about it for like, years.

He laughed. Well, you want to make sure you get the right one. I have tons of ideas; you still have a little time. He pointed me toward his books of designs, arranged on shelves, that lined a hall going straight back into the building.

I made my way along, passing over the floral and cutesy stuff (sorry, Lily); I skipped the flaming skulls, vamps, and werewolves. The hall lights seemed to dim the farther I went. I was nearly to the end, the last bulb a weak nicotine-y incandescent, when a huge book on the top shelf caught my eye. I strained on tiptoes, teasing it to the edge until it fell into my arms.

It was maybe two feet on a side, bound in leather and studded with bronze tacks. It was so heavy I had to sit down on the floor to open it. The designs inside were rendered in red and black ink. They all had a medieval look and ranged from coats of arms to knights and animals—fantastic stuff—quite outside the usual tat parlor schmaltz.

Several pages in, I found the dragon. He was done in black and red like the rest, but was so long and stretched out he was printed or drawn in two pieces. His wings were stretched behind in flight. His claws raked the air; his tail streamed back in coils behind him. Magnificent! Underneath him, the word OUROBOROS had been written. There was also a little sketch to the side, but the light was too weak for me to make it out. I lugged the book up front. Cal had finished with his other customer.

What have you got there, Kelli?

"You tell me. Isn’t this your stuff?"

He took the book, laid it on the counter, ran his hands over the cover.

Christ! he said, his eyes wide. That’s some book! He opened it and the leather spine made not a whisper. "I wish this was my work. Where did you get it?"

Down the hall, at the end.

This is killer stuff, and there isn’t any author page. These must be somebody’s personal drawings, but it’s really old, and probably out of copyright. He moved his eyebrows up and down at me and continued to turn the pages.

Old Red was the artist here before me, but he died back in the nineties. This could be his work, but it doesn’t look like him.

He came to the dragon page and I put my hand on it. "I just love this one."

Yeah, he’s got some attitude. You don’t want this, though. It’s an armband. See, that’s why it’s in two pieces. You’re supposed to tie them together, stretch it around your arm, and he swallows his own tail. It’s a symbol of infinity or long life or something. That little sketch on the side shows it as a ring.

I craned my neck over Cal’s colorful arms. Armbands are more of a guy thing, but I thought it might be cross-gender cool. You know, like girls named Frankie or ones who wear neckties and men’s hats. As soon as Cal said the dragon wasn’t for me, I had to have it.

Okay, if you really want it, he said. It’ll take some time, though. I’m not sure I can finish it today.

Oh, that sounds . . . expensive.

Well, yeah. It would be.

Cal was still turning the pages with a hungry look in his eye. I’ll tell you what, Kelli. I never would have known the book was back there, and I’m gonna get some great stuff out of this, what with the convention coming up and all. How about I ink him for you, but only charge you for a flower?

Hella, yeah! I was delighted.

Left arm or right?

Left, please.

I thought, My parents are gonna shit when they see it! Well, it’s their fault for being so anal. Ha, ha!

Somehow it was done in just two hours. Even Cal was amazed. It didn’t hurt much at all, and it looked frickin’ awesome. The black beast curled around my bicep chasing his tail.