Aurealis #137

By Stephen Higgins (Editor)

Aurealis #137 is the first issue for 2021! Packed with quality new fiction, news, reviews and our usual selection of articles, artwork and interviews. Aurealis is published 10 times per year. For subscriptions and other information go to aurealis.com.au .
This issue features the stories 'For Sale' by Michael Gardner, 'Pistris' by Bethany Doherty and 'The Redemption of Declan Callahan' from Steve DuBois.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chimaera Publications
• Release date: Feb 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781922471024

Book preview

AUREALIS #137

Edited by Stephen Higgins

Published by Chimaera Publications at Smashwords

Copyright of this compilation Chimaera Publications 2021

Copyright on each story remains with the contributor

EPUB version ISBN 978-1-922471-02-4

ISSN 2200-307X (electronic)

CHIMAERA PUBLICATIONS

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the authors, editors and artists.

Hard copy back issues of Aurealis can be obtained from the Aurealis website: www.aurealis.com.au

Contents

From the Cloud—Stephen Higgins

For Sale—Michael Gardner

Pistris—Bethany Doherty

The Redemption of Declan Callahan—Steve DuBois

Vampires: Blood, Seduction and Social Acceptance Throughout History—Amy Laurens

Rehabilitating Problems of the Past and Separating the Art from the Artist—Lachlan Walter

The Curious Reclassification of Peter Benchley’s Jaws—Kris Ashton

Remembering Aiki Flinthart—Eugen Bacon

Reviews

Next Issue

Submissions to Aurealis

Credits

From the Cloud

Stephen Higgins

Welcome to Aurealis for 2021.

The temptation at this time is to ruminate on what a dreadful year 2020 was and express the hope that 2021 will be much better. There seems to be a lot of reasons to feel that 2021 will indeed be an improvement on the previous year, what with vaccines for Covid-19 being rushed out and major changes on the world political stage, but as I write many places in the world are still in lockdown and being subjected to very substantial challenges.

On a lighter note, I am pleased to inform our readers that I have had the opportunity to look over much of the material that we will be presenting to the world in Aurealis over the next few months and I can confidently say that there is a lot to look forward to in the near future. And I should point out that the quality of the stories is matched by the quality of the artwork that will be accompanying them.

We don’t really make enough of a fuss about the art that graces our pages. Oh, we point out that it is good, and that we are pleased to provide a platform for so many artists to showcase their work, but when you actually go back and look at just the images, rather than just glancing at them as you read the story, you get an idea of the talent in our pool of artists. I have always liked much of the art that accompanies science fiction. I love a good spaceship as much as the next person. Even have a CD by Andy Partridge (XTC) that he recorded as a soundtrack to the science fiction artwork of Richard M Powers (It is called ‘Powers’ and is very hard to get). I often joke with my fellow editors that, of the three of us, I have the best taste when it comes to choosing cover art. I say ‘joke’ but I really mean it. I chose the cover art for this issue. In simpler times you would have just flipped a few pages back to have a look at it, but by all means swipe that screen to look at it now. I can wait.

Good isn’t it?

Of course, back in the days when Aurealis was a print magazine, the cover had to attract a person from some distance and ‘sell’ the contents of the magazine. We probably don’t sell too many issues just based on the cover art, but if we had to, I am sure this issue’s cover would do well. And that’s not even mentioning the interior art. We have discovered many fine artists and featured their art as accompaniment to the stories. We make it a point to include the websites of our artists so that our readers can delve a bit more deeply into their work. If you like the look of a particular image in Aurealis, have a look at more of the artist’s work. Quite often they have art for sale, and often at very reasonable rates.

Enjoy the fiction, admire the art and think about the articles.

Have a good read.

All the best from the cloud!

Stephen Higgins

Editor: Stephen Higgins

Stephen has been interested in science fiction for ages and has written a few stories for Aurealis in the past. Lately, he’s been creating a lot of music. You can hear his music on Spotify, iTunes, Bandcamp and Soundcloud and all of the other usual places you get your music. You can find out more at www.stephenhigginsmusic.com.

Associate Editor: Terry Wood

Terry Wood is a political consultant, writer and editor from Brisbane, and has been an Associate Editor and Non-fiction Coordinator for Aurealis since 2015. He has also been involved previously with Andromeda Spaceways Magazine. He can be found at terrywood.com.au.

Back to Contents

For Sale

Michael Gardner

Pip waited for me outside the church, her green school uniform hugging her tightly. I smiled as I walked my bike toward her, hoping I looked cool and friendly, sure I was beaming like a used car salesman. Damn, she was beautiful.

‘You sure know how to keep a girl waiting, Ren,’ she said, pulling her bike up from the ground, then falling into step beside me.

‘How was school?’ I asked, the wheels of our bikes clicked rhythmically. The day was warm—blue skies and sunshine—and a soft breeze carried the scent of roses from the church gardens.

She shrugged, eyes darted away.

‘That good,’ I said.

‘Yeah.’

We’d grown up together and gone to the same school until last year when her parents moved her to St Mary’s. She hated it. The other girls were pretentious, and she was the new kid. I hoped every day she’d make friends, and yet part of me was glad she didn’t. It meant she still waited to walk home with me each day.

‘I’ve got something that will cheer you up. I made you a mix tape,’ I said.

That brought a grin to her face.

‘Where did you find a cassette?’ she asked laughing. ‘And what am I supposed to play it on?’

‘Maybe…’ I said, stopping, pulling my backpack from my shoulder and reaching in, ‘you can play it on this.’ I wrenched an old Walkman from my bag and held it aloft.

She actually gasped. She dropped her bike with a clatter and took the gift from me reverently, turning it in her hands, eyes wide, rapt.

‘Oh, my God. Where did you find this?’

I shrugged, mock casual. She gave me a playful slap on the shoulder and I smiled, enjoying the moment.

Pip loved the nineties. She’d constantly play old grunge music and make me watch re-runs of Seinfeld and Friends. We’d laugh at the shows, the fashion, the hairdos, and yet for Pip there was also a pining there, like she’d been born out of time.

‘Come on, please? You have to tell me.’

I grinned wider, relented.

‘I was riding out Warren Road yesterday when I came across a huge semi-trailer parked in the commons. They were unpacking a heap of stuff, and it was all for sale.’

‘Is the truck still there?’

‘I think so. The owner seemed to be settling in for a while.’

‘You have to take me,’ Pip said, grabbing my wrist. That touch drew my eyes like iron filings to a magnet. I gawked at her slender fingers on my skin, then forced myself to look back up.

‘Of course,’ I said.

* * *

It didn’t look the same as the day before. The black trailer of the truck was almost lost amongst a ramshackle city of marquees and pavilions that clung to one another like malignant cells, each trying to consume the other. I couldn’t believe they’d gotten all of this up in a day.

I coasted toward the entrance where a flap of canvas was pulled aside. Alongside was a sign—‘Curios for sale’. I skidded to a stop with a flurry of dust, and Pip pulled up beside me. I caught a whiff of her—lavender soap, and berry scented shampoo.

‘So,’ she said, ‘lead the way.’

I laid my bike down in the dirt, the wheel spinning slowly. Pip dropped hers alongside mine with a thud, and then I led her inside.

It was gloomy, and it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust from the bright sunshine. When they did, I was surprised at just how much junk was on display. There was old, scratched furniture stacked one on top of the other, boxes of books, mostly paperbacks with the covers torn off, old appliances, paintings, jewellery. And that was just what I could immediately see. The tent had a musty smell—dust and aged wood. A handful