Tripping the Dark Fantastic

By John Walters

While taking an experimental hallucinogen that turns extreme pain into vivid illusions, a terminal cancer patient discovers a dark group fantasy whose price of admission is pain. A team of unlikely gamers join him in a quest to discover the tantalizing secret at the end of the road.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Astaria Books
• Release date: Apr 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393703600

John Walters

John Walters recently returned to the United States after thirty-five years abroad. He lives in Seattle, Washington. He attended the 1973 Clarion West science fiction writing workshop and is a member of Science Fiction Writers of America. He writes mainstream fiction, science fiction and fantasy, and memoirs of his wanderings around the world.

Book preview

Tripping the Dark Fantastic

Jackson was tripping the light fantastic, surfing aquamarine and deep purple rays emanating from the evanescent orb, leaning left into rainbow spray, leaning right into ultraviolet hues, in perfect control, balanced and centered, fully focused on the ride, when the tickle began deep within his chest.  He managed to ignore it while he finished his run, settled into the amphitheater, accepted the applause of the invisible audience, basked in his own satisfaction for an effort well spent.

Then it began again, a tickle really, nothing more, at least not at first, but he knew what it was.  He knew he would not be able to maintain his illusion for long if it continued.  It wasn't supposed to begin at all, let alone linger for so long.  The psychotropic drug and the chip in his head should have stopped it, at least stopped his awareness of it, converted it to something else.  Even in times of lucidity during which he performed necessary bodily functions there was a remoteness to it all, a barrier, a cushion that made it all right.

But now he was coming down, and coming down hard.  The tickle was becoming harsher, like the scraping of relentless talons exposing raw flesh.

He began to cough, mildly at first, then more deeply, then in great racking gouts of breath expulsion that caused him to gag and almost retch.

He came to in the hospital bed that had replaced his normal bed in his own bedroom at home, his daughter sitting in an armchair nearby.

Betsy, he said.  What are you doing here.  Where's the nurse?

That's a fine greeting, Papa.

As he continued to cough, she put a glass of water to his lips and he sipped.  With great effort he managed to get the paroxysms in his chest under control.

Shhh... said Betsy.  The nurse has gone home.  But don't worry; I'm here for you.  Do you need to use the bathroom?

Jackson nodded.

Betsy helped him up, supported him as he walked, waited outside while he did his business, and returned him to his bed.

The tickle resumed in his chest, accompanied by a dull ache which Jackson knew would gradually accelerate into active pain.  The nurse... He said.  She's supposed to be full time.

"We had to cut back