The Middle of Midnight: Speculative Stories

By Wilson E. Clark

What would you do if your best friend became a werewolf? How would you handle being shipwrecked on a demon-infested island in the middle of nowhere? The Middle of Midnight is a collection of eight speculative stories that will take you on a wild ride into worlds and realities beyond our own.

 

Crossing – Tom was having an ordinary day at work until the vintage photograph on his wall began to misbehave. What started as a snapshot of an old airshow quickly turns into a jumble of people, places, and times, and it is not long till Tom finds himself in an unreal experience with very real consequences.

 

Bit of a Haint – Jennifer just wanted to take her daughter to a pumpkin patch for a bit of holiday festivity. However, fun turns to fear as their romp through a nearby corn field uncovers a dark secret that will tear open the past and unleash a fatal future.

 

Lying Truth – The truth is not always what it seems as a dying rust belt town and a pair of visiting journalists are about to discover.

 

A Terrible Truth – William is ready for a bit of rest and relaxation at a friend's estate in the Victorian English countryside. Pleasure soon turns to terror though as William comes face to face with a fearsome creature roaming the dark hallways of the manor house.

 

The Devil in the Dark – Shipwrecked on an island in the middle of nowhere, Charles and his two companions have no choice but to struggle for survival. Their ordeal though may soon turn into an all-out fight for their very souls as they discover there is more lurking in surrounding forest than they could have possibly imagined.

 

A Moment of Peace – Black and white, good and evil, us vs. them: Tyrlana has spent a lifetime soldiering from one world to the next as a pawn in a galactic game of chess. She knows the rules, but a chance encounter might cause her to realize that some rules are meant to be broken.

 

Personal Hell – Caleb just wanted to see his wife and daughter one more time, but the method to his madness might just end up stranding them all together in his own personal hell for all of eternity.

 

Cosmic Significance – Susan and James are two complete strangers from two different times. Their coming together for a mysterious purpose will change the course of history more than they ever could have imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Griffington House
• Release date: Sep 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215290453

Wilson E. Clark

Wilson E. Clark lives in the Pacific Northwest and enjoys writing fiction and collecting vintage movie posters. If you finish one of his stories with a smile on your face, then he has done his job.

Book preview

CROSSING

1

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Nice photograph!  Did you take it?

Tom swiveled around in his chair and froze as he stared at the suited man standing in the cubicle entrance.

I inherited it, Tom finally said after several seconds.  The...the photo was here when I moved in last year.

Well, it’s a great photo, the suited man said.  Do you know where it was taken?

Tom swiveled towards the framed photograph hanging on the wall over the left edge of his desk.

Actually, Tom began, his eyes now fixed on the photograph, No, I don’t.  Several other people have asked as well, but I’ve never confirmed where it was taken.

The suited man entered the cubicle and came to stand next to Tom’s desk.  He leaned forward so that his eyes were only inches away from the glass frame covering the photograph.

Tom couldn’t believe it.  The president and CEO of their entire, multi-billion-dollar corporation was standing in his cubicle!  He, a lowly analyst, was playing host to a corporate heavyweight!

A very interesting photograph indeed, the president said.  At first I thought it might be a run of the mill airshow, but it’s a bit more unusual than that.

In what way? Tom asked while pushing away from his desk and standing up.

Well, you can see there are American fighter jets in the foreground, but then off to the left is a group of Soviet-era MIGs, then...hmm...very interesting...a couple of World War II Mustang fighter planes as well.

Tom came over to stand next to the president and leaned forward toward the photograph.  A feeling of stupidity overtook his thoughts as he realized he’d never given the photograph such a high level of scrutiny before.  It had been hanging on the wall when he moved in and had looked interesting enough that he had decided not to toss it out.  As he stood here now, staring at the photograph, details began to emerge that he hadn’t noticed before.

Do you also see that handful of bi-planes on the other side of the picture? Tom asked.  "They look like they’re from World War I, perhaps a bit earlier.

Very good, young man, the president said.  You know your aviation history.

He pulled away from the picture and Tom did the same.  The president smiled at Tom before turning and walking out of the cubicle.  Oh, he said, turning around to face Tom once more, if you ever discover where that photograph came from, I’d love to know.

Tom nodded as the president turned and walked away, disappearing behind a nearby row of cubicles.

Stupid!  Stupid!  Stupid! Tom harshly whispered to himself after a few seconds.  The frickin’ president of the company was standing in your cube!  Did you take the opportunity to introduce yourself, to make sure he knows your name?  No!  You were dumber than a brick and let all his attention focus instead on that stupid photograph!

Tom shook his head and flopped back into his chair.  He wistfully stared at the cubicle entrance for a few seconds before swiveling back to his computer.  After attempting to work through a series of spreadsheet calculations, he pushed away from the desk and found himself staring at the photograph.

This is your fault, he said to the inanimate object.

Tom continued to stare until he noticed another detail he hadn’t observed before.  Scratching the side of his head, Tom stood up and came to rest in the same spot the president had been standing in moments before.

What the heck is that? he asked out loud.

In addition to the various aircraft scattered across the paved ground, he began to notice groupings of people packed in and among the planes.  There were pilots dressed in uniforms from the same eras as their planes.  Some were positioned into teams around certain planes as if performing routine maintenance.  Others appeared to be milling about as if discussing the score from a previous night’s ballgame.

As Tom’s eyes moved back and forth between the pilots, he began to notice additional groups of people scattered about.  These ones however were not pilots and appeared to have no business being present on the airfield.

What the...

Tom leaned closer to the photograph and let his jaw drop.  Each time his eyes moved around, more and more people and objects began to populate the airfield.  There were women dressed like flappers from the 1920’s mingling with men in expensive suits and top hats from the turn of the twentieth century.  Industrial workers from the late 1800s were socializing with hippies from the 1960’s while American colonial settlers appeared to dance a jig with Civil War soldiers.

Tom rubbed both eyes with his hands and shook his head.  Just like that, the carnival of people disappeared, and the photograph reverted to the original picture of a modern airshow with American and Soviet fighter jets.

You are one strange fellow indeed, Tom said to the photograph before shaking his head once more.

As Tom continued to stare at the photograph, a thought crossed his mind.  The president had asked where it was taken but had neglected to ask who had taken it.  Tom narrowed his eyes slightly and scratched his head before stepping forward and raising both arms.  He removed the photograph frame from the wall mount and turned it around.  To his disappointment, the back of the frame was blank with no name tags or inscriptions written on the back.

Tom scolded himself as he put the photograph back on the wall.  Had he really expected to find an answer to this mysterious object inscribed on its backside?  No, not an answer, but a name would have been a decent start.

A name...  Tom let the thought linger for a moment before standing on his tip toes and looking out over the maze of cubicles.  A name... he repeated the words as an idea came to him.  Tom left his cubicle and walked down the hallway, passing several rows of analysts and engineers, all busily working on various projects for their employer, one of the largest aerospace companies in the world.

Tom came to rest in front of a cubicle that was probably one-third larger than the others.  There was a wrap-around desk with neat piles of paperwork stacked next to each other on either side.  In the center sat a heavy-set woman in her fifties.

Hi Deanna, Tom said in a polite tone.  How are you today?

The woman pushed back from her desk and swiveled her chair towards him.  Tom took in her bright smile and was always amazed at her perpetual cheerfulness.  The world could be crashing down around them, but Deanna would probably still smile, somehow knowing that in the end everything would be alright.

Hello, Tom, she said in a tone that matched her smile.  What can I do for you?

The cubicle that I currently have, do you know who the previous occupant was?

Hmm... Deanna’s eyes darted up to the ceiling for a moment.  I don’t remember off-hand, but let’s take a look.  She swiveled back towards her computer and Tom waited as she clicked through several folders on the monitor.

Brian Gleason, she said after some time.  Brian Gleason was the previous occupant before you.  Gosh, I think he was with the company for over thirty years before retiring last year.  After he left, you moved in from across campus.  Do you remember him?

No, I don’t remember him, Tom said while closing his eyes.  I was with another group before I moved to this building.  I never had a chance to meet him.  He opened his eyes once more, a new idea having sprung to mind.

Anything else I can help you with?

No, that’s all I needed.  Thank you, Deanna.

You’re welcome!

Tom smiled to himself as he walked back to his cubicle.  He had a name and knew where to go for a number.

Plopping down into his seat, Tom turned towards his computer and opened the company email system. 

Brian Gleason, Brian Gleason.

He repeated the name several times as he pulled up the contact directory and typed in the name.  As Tom expected, the search returned no results.  The guy had left the company over a year ago and it wouldn’t have made sense for his name to still be in the contact directory.

Tom however had a back-up plan.  Each employee had an archive folder for email and he opened his own company email and clicked on the Trash folder.  Every email an employee deleted was backed up in this folder just in case they needed to go back and retrieve an old message.  A lot of departing employees tended to send a good-bye email to everyone on site and Tom now remembered that Brian had been no different.

Brian, Brian, where are you? he muttered, sorting the deleted emails by date received.  He jumped to about twelve months prior and began a slow scroll downwards.  Brian, Brian, he continued.  Where are y...  He saw the email from Gleason, Brian and opened it.

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Dear Friends, After thirty-four years with the company, it is time for me to say good-bye as I move on to the next phase in life (whatever that may be ☺).  I’ve enjoyed my time here, working with the best people in the business and wish everyone all the best.  Should anyone wish to stay in touch, my number is 544-239-0652.  Best Wishes, Brian Gleason

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Gotcha! Tom said in triumph while jotting the phone number down on a nearby sticky notepad.

He closed the old email and clicked back to his home screen.  The taskbar at the bottom contained a variety of spreadsheets that began to call his name.  Tom ignored them though as he stared down at the newly acquired phone number.  With several deadlines looming, he should get back to work, crunching numbers and analyzing data.  Tom looked back up at his computer screen then down once more at the phone number, then up towards the photograph on the cubicle wall.

What the heck... he said, pulling out his cell phone.  Five minutes more won’t be a big deal.  Tom dialed the number, put the phone to his ear and sat back in his chair.  The call was answered on the fourth ring.

Hello, a groggy voice began, who’s this?

Tom felt a little bad for waking up the person on the other end of the line but forged ahead.

Hello, am I speaking with Brian Gleason?

If you’re selling something then...

No, no, I’m not a telemarketer, at all.  In fact, I work for the same employer that you did before you retired last year.  To be more specific, I sit in the same cubicle that you once did.

Well, good for you, son, the voice replied.  It’s not like I owned that cubicle, so go ahead and make it your own.  You don’t need my permission to do so.  Now if you don’t mind, I’m going back to...

My name is Tom O’Neil and I have questions about the photograph on the wall, Tom interrupted, sensing the man on the other line was about to hang up, the one with the airfield, with the pilots and the other people who shouldn’t be there.

It was a stab in the dark, but the sudden silence proved Tom had taken the right approach.

I’ve seen them, Tom continued.  The pilots, the planes, the people and how they come from all different eras even though it makes no sense whatsoever.

You’re right, it doesn’t Brian began, and yet...it does.

What do you mean? Tom asked.  What’s the story behind this photograph hanging in my cubicle?

It’s a... there was a long pause before Brian continued and as