Leadlights: 10 Short Stories of Horror & Sci-Fi

By C.C. Luckey

An exciting variety of intense short stories for fans of horror and dark science fiction!

These are Leadlights; stained glass windows looking out into the darkness. This book of ten wildly different tales will transport you into previously unexplored realms of the imagination. Follow Jaz through her i

• Language: English
• Publisher: Colleen Luckey
• Release date: Mar 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9780578482606

C.C. Luckey

C.C. Luckey lives in Crestline, a beautiful mountain town in Southern California, with her small family which includes some very derpy Pembroke Welsh Corgis. Her writing is heavily influenced by her studies for a bachelor's degree in Philosophy from California State University, Long Beach.Her favorite hobbies are hiking, collecting oddities, and playing folk-rock accordion.

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LEADLIGHTS

10 Short Stories of Horror & Sci-Fi

by C.C. Luckey

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2019 Colleen C. Luckey

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

First ebook edition March 2019

Front cover art by Julia Y

ISBN 978-0-578-48259-0 (paperback)

ISBN 978-0-578-48260-6 (ebook)

Published by Patient Corgi

For Ian

Karma

The late summer sun set behind an antique pair of decaying curtains printed with marigolds and curls of ivy, illuminating the old woman’s face with a dusty orange glow. The television was off, and the birds had fallen silent as dusk settled on the city. Sirens in the distance sounded otherworldly; they had nothing to do with here and now. Helen was unconcerned. She was dying.

People in movies always said that one of their greatest fears was dying alone. Now that it was happening to her, Helen found she did not mind it so much. Her body ached a bit, her feet were cold, and it was becoming difficult to draw breath. But she was not afraid. This was a moment for her alone; she relaxed in her chair, and even smiled, sending little well-wishes to herself. You’ve done well, Helen. Rest now, and be at peace.

She did not think back on her long life. The time for pleasant nostalgia had passed. Instead, she meditated, retreating deep into her mind, marking the ebb and flow of her thoughts as someone walking through their old house for the last time before hanging up the key.

The clock chimed four, and she felt pressure in her chest. She had apparently stopped breathing some minutes past, but she let it go. It did not matter.

Then, in the middle of her brain, she sensed a light. It wasn’t anything she could have seen with her eyes. A tiny, brilliant pinpoint flared and grew into a prismatic beam made of every color in the universe. It was purest white broken into infinite shards, and it shone brighter than any star—until it eclipsed her, and exploded.

Helen was shocked to consciousness. She was no longer in her living room; she was nowhere at all. Yet she was somewhere, for she had to be existing in some place to experience the thought about not existing anywhere. A pointless observation, that.

The place where she was—or, was not—was dark and directionless, like floating upside down in deep water.

Someone spoke.

Welcome, Helen Beatrice Combs the fourth. This is the Karma Institute. Please approach this voice.

Helen tried to turn her head, but she had no head to turn. She was just a thought; a consciousness drifting in a void.

Please desire to look in the direction of this voice, someone said.

Helen discovered that she did in fact wish to look toward the voice. She was still possessed of both will and curiosity, and as soon as the wish of knowledge blossomed within her, she felt her direction turn. A light appeared in the void, and the voice spoke from the light; Approach now.

Helen found that she wished to do so, and so she did.

Thank you, Helen Beatrice Combs the fourth.

The fourth? That’s a mistake. My mother’s name was Gladys. I was named after our neighbor’s favorite aunt. I’m not the fourth of anything, Helen said. The sound of her response emanated from her in much the same way she had been able to move about; her desire for communication made it manifest.

The voice spoke again. You are the fourth Helen Beatrice Combs. You have just completed your fourth iteration of yourself. You might say, your fourth life. The life experience you just completed refined your soul in a certain way, and you now must choose new parameters for further refinement. Once you have chosen, your fifth life will begin.

Fifth life? How many lives do I get? Helen asked.

The average is ten. Some individuals may experience up to thirteen before attaining a state of Perfect Empathy, but such poor performance is rare. Some achieve Perfect Empathy in as few as six lives. Perfect Empaths move beyond, the voice said.

Beyond what?

Beyond here. What is Beyond is as incomprehensible to your current state as this afterlife would be to your mortal self. It is now time to choose which refinements you will endure in your fifth life, in order to temper your soul.

Fine, Helen relented. "I see you’re not actually going to tell me anything useful. What do I do now?"

Choose from the following list: ‘loss of young child,’ ‘loss of both legs,’ ‘loss of young spouse.’

Those are the options? I don’t want any of those! What if I choose ‘long and happy marriage?’ That sounds a lot better! Helen snorted.

A similar option was already selected for your second life, although the memory of our last encounter will not have survived your fourth iteration, said the voice. Other previously walked paths include ‘divorced,’ ‘never married,’ and ‘single parent.’ Please choose from the remaining options.

I won’t! I don’t want any of that! Helen said.

Then you will drift here indefinitely. It is your choice. Please notify this voice when you are ready to continue.

Is this… purgatory? Is that what this is? I’m not even Catholic!

If you wish to call this place purgatory, you may. Please notify this voice when you are ready to continue with parameter selection for your fifth life.

Helen floated in silence. An hour passed—or what felt like an hour in that desolate expanse. No other people arrived, and nothing changed. There was no sound, and no light other than the voice’s glow. The voice waited for her response.

I guess… I guess loss of both legs, Helen finally said.

Very well, the voice responded promptly. Next, select from these parameters: ‘poverty,’ ‘type 1 diabetes,’ ‘independently wealthy.’

What? Those are all so different from each other! I choose to be independently wealthy, of course!

Please remember that all life parameters must be experienced. Choosing one option this time will leave you with the remaining choices next time. For your fourth life, you chose ‘abandoned by family,’ opting to save ‘independently wealthy’ for a future life in which you may be otherwise disadvantaged. I recommend you pair it with a selection of extreme disadvantages. Balance is often preferable, the voice said.

So if I choose wealth, I should also choose to lose a child? How can I choose to experience something like that?

All parameters must be experienced to achieve Perfect Empathy. We allow you to choose the order and arrangement of each life story. Some choose to cluster their positive life experiences together to take advantage of a ‘charmed life,’ but that option leaves them with at least one excruciating set of parameters that must be endured in a single, painful life. We recommend balance.

You? Who are you? You talk like a computer. This isn’t how I imagined death would be, Helen said.

You have not died; you are between lives. Perfect Empathy is a state that could be called death, but even then, there is something more Beyond. It takes nearly a thousand years to prepare the soul for that further state, and I am not at liberty to discuss the experience.

But who are you? Are you a… what did you say… a ‘Perfect Empath?’

No. I am your Docent. I am a servant, and I am not human. As such, be advised that I have infinite patience, and will keep you here as long as is necessary. However, I urge you to choose, and not linger here, as it is without any value to do so.

What were my options again? Helen asked.

Choose from the following parameters: ‘Poverty.’ ‘Type 1 diabetes.’ ‘Independently wealthy.’

I… I guess I’ll choose the diabetes. It sounds awful, but maybe I should save all that money for a rainy day.

Very well, the voice said. Please choose from the following parameters: skin tone 933, skin tone 810, skin tone 362.

What’s the diff? Never mind, I guess I don’t much care. You pick for me.

Please choose one parameter.

Fine! I’ll choose 933, whatever the hell that means! Helen snapped.

Very well, said the voice. Please choose from the following parameters: ‘bipolar,’ ‘neurotypical,’ ‘serial killer inclination.’

Holy hell, how many of these are there?

Please choose.

"But I would never want to be like a serial killer! Never!" Helen shouted.

It has been observed by the Institute that most individuals whose options include that parameter leave it until last. This method provides the illusion of an acceptable morality, in that the option is not chosen, but instead is forced upon the individual.

Well, I can’t choose that one. I won’t. And I was depressed for most of my last life, so I’m already tired of all that, too. Neurotypical, please. If I’m going to be a diabetic amputee, I may as well try to be cheerful about it, Helen said.

Cheerfulness is not guaranteed.

Fuck you.

Please choose your final parameter: ‘rapist,’ ‘murderer,’ ‘pedophile.’

Helen froze. What?

Please choose your-

I heard you! Helen growled. I will not choose any of those!

These are the only available parameters remaining to you. Previously you experienced ‘social worker,’ ‘doctor,’ ‘nun,’ ‘veterinarian.’ Please choose from the listed parameters.

You mean I already blew my wad on this one? What am I supposed to do now?

Please choose-

Shut up! Helen wanted to cry, but it was impossible in her current state. She had no eyes to cry with.

Helen mumbled, I guess I’ll just stay here, then. I ain’t choosing.

Very well, the voice replied, and lapsed into silence.

And so Helen floated. A period of time passed that felt like a day, then a week, then a year. It may have been ten years, or a hundred. She drifted, and thought, and wished she could cry. She tried to weigh the choices—to rationalize them—but could not. She began to long for the sensations of touch, of breathing, of eating. She yearned for the pleasure of love, and for the satisfaction of hate. Helen existed, but without life. More than anything else, she desperately wished she could cry. At last, she could no longer wait.

Hello? I have decided, she said into the void.

Please choose from the following parameters: ‘rapist,’ ‘murderer,’ ‘pedophile.’

Rapist, Helen grimaced. I won’t kill, and I won’t hurt kids.

All parameters must be experienced-

We’ll see about that, Helen said. Come on. Set me up with a new body, or whatever you do.

Your physical appearance—aside from age, which is chronologically progressive—is similar in each life. Gender is randomized. If you could remember your previous lives, your new body would feel familiar to you. But you will, as you must, begin as an infant. Please prepare for rebirth. Thank you, and I will see you next time. We hope your appointment with Karma Institute was satisfactory. If you would like, you may help us by taking an optional survey before rebirth initiates. It will take no more than five minutes to complete. Would you like to provide us with your feedback?

No. Get me the hell out of here.

"Very well. See you