Past Measures

By Griffin Carmichael

Seven science fiction short stories from the pen of author Griffin Carmichael. Tales to amuse, thrill, frighten or make you think, you'll find them here. From the flash fiction piece "Whiter Time" to longer stories from the end of the world, this collection will have something for everyone.

Whither Time: Betrayed, a woman gets a chance for revenge.

Past Measures: Trying to fit in with a group of survivors in a world filled with heartless flesh-eating zombies, a woman tells her own sad tale.

Tithe: Desperation can lead a man to do things against his own character, but there's always a choice.

Down Time: The comet came, and the world became a cold, harsh place.

The Regard of Her Attendants: She woke up confused and desperate to make someone listen. Luckily, someone did.

We Interrupt This Download: Everybody has to change with the times, or be left behind.

The Culling: A man learns how far he's willing to go for family and honor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Griffin Carmichael
• Release date: Feb 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215279991

Book preview

Copyright 2017 by Griffin Carmichael.

All rights reserved.

I assert my moral right to be identified as the author of this work, under the applicable laws of each country in which it may appear.

Any reference to any person, living or dead, or any place, product or cultural reference is either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

Cover copyright 2017 by Sheila Guthrie

All images used by permission.

INTRODUCTION

We authors are funny creatures. I know I am. My brain just comes up with all these ideas, and when I write them down I have little stories, or novellas, or even a full novel that’s made up from whole cloth. I think my muse is very hard-working, and it’s to him I owe my thanks for the stories in this collection.

Oh, yeah. My muse is a guy. Not sure why, as from what I can tell muses are supposed to be female, but there you go. I mentioned writers were funny creatures, right?

Some of these stories have appeared in various anthologies, others are new. They don’t have a specific theme, just a gathering of various science fiction things that came to me or were inspired by the anthology theme.

I love writing short stories, and I hope you enjoy reading them.

Griffin

April 3,2017

WHITHER TIME

She saw the thin place and went towards it, taking in as many details as she could. Such places didn’t happen often here, and many times they were of little use to her.

She called the vast emptiness Purgatory, or if she was particularly despondent, Hell—remnants of her long-ago religious upbringing—but Elizabeth didn’t know where she was. She didn’t think she was dead. Dead people didn’t have need for food, or drink, or rest. But she did. Perhaps that was part of the torment, the punishment due for her sins.

The veil lifted a little more, giving her a clearer view of what lay beyond. There were several men gathered around a long table, dressed in evening attire. It was the buffet along one wall that drew Elizabeth’s attention, especially the sweating pitcher of liquid at the end.

She barely took in any details of the room, a brightly lit, elegant dining room. No, all she wanted was food, and whatever liquid she could grab. It had been a long time since she’d found a thin place that promised such abundance. Most often, there was little for her to take, sometimes no sustenance at all. Often times there were people who could see her, and scream.

How she hated the screams. What did they see, looking through the veil from their side? Was she a ghost after all? Something even more hideous?

She pushed those thoughts from her mind, and reached into the pockets of one of her better finds: a man’s greatcoat snatched from a coat rack in a noisy bar filled with soldiers.

She licked her lips. Elizabeth paused for a moment, her gaze flitting from one dish to another, deciding in an instant what she could stuff in her pockets in the least amount of time. There was always the chance the veil would shift, and she would be forced to drift until another thin spot appeared.

Elizabeth could hear the faint sound of the men as they took their cigars and brandy, which meant the veil was thinning even more. Now was the time, she must hurry, while they were distracted.

Her steps were quickening to keep up with her heart when she felt the pendant. It lay atop one of the large napkins carefully folded in the coat pockets. She slowed, stopped. Her heart fell.

To have such joy as she could feel in this hateful place taken from her! It wasn’t fair, not fair at all. She had so little, no place to call her own, no hope that the nightmare would end. And now even the prospects of a full belly meant nothing to her.

She fingered the pendant, remembering the day her husband had put it around her neck. It was their first anniversary, and she’d thought it was the delicate emerald she’d admired at a local jeweler’s the day before.

Close your eyes, my love. Her heart had fluttered, still infatuated with her husband, still enchanted with her marriage. She’d closed her eyes, waiting for the gem to touch her skin.

Her eyes had snapped open when a heavy, burning weight landed on the curve of her breast instead, her gaze meeting that of the man she loved. But he wasn’t the man she loved, only a monster with his face. A monster whose smile didn’t reach his eyes, who spoke harshly, coldly.

I’m rid of you at last and no unfortunate body to explain, he’d snarled, lip curled. A whisper here, a tearful glance there, and everyone will believe you ran off with your lover.

But she’d had no lover, no man but him. Her head pounded in time with her heart, her vision faded, her body flew away from the room. Then she was behind the veil, trapped while the world moved on without her.

The pendant felt hot as she pulled it out, the heavy, thickly-wrought chain wrapping around her fingers. She’d gotten rid of it many times, leaving it at the thin places, where she could briefly touch the world beyond. But it always returned, its weight lying heavily around her neck, until she finally stopped trying.

Elizabeth ran her fingers over the sharply carved symbols on the face of the pendant, odd curves that gave her a headache if she looked at them too long. Whatever magic was held within was evil, as was the man who had used it on her.

The men were laughing at something another had said, rising from the table to rejoin their women. That man, the host she guessed, turned towards her, smiling, and the pendant burned in her hand. She nearly dropped it then and again when the veil lifted further and she saw his face clearly. It was him! Older, yes, a man in his later years now. But she would never forget the face of the man who had doomed her to this nightmare.

Without thinking, she rushed towards the thin place, watching his eyes widen in shock. Her fingers were steady as she unhooked the clasp; her movements sure as she swung the chain around his neck, fastened it tightly, so it lay heavy on his chest.

He only had time to gasp her name as he realized what she’d done. There was a ripping sound, a rush of foul wind, and he was gone, and she could see clearly for the first time in many years.

~ * ~

PAST MEASURES

She looked around the huge room, looking for her friend Carol. People were wandering in and out, carrying dishes with whatever the cooks had found to make a special dinner, a hodgepodge of various canned and flash-frozen stuff. Anyone not assigned to a task related to cooking the holiday meal, or the unlucky ones on guard, were flooding in and grabbing chairs wherever they could.

The noise level was distracting, pushing her tired body past what she felt she could stand. If she didn’t see where Carol was soon, she’d have to take one of the seats shoved into the corner and eat by herself.

Alone in a crowd. She snorted. That pretty much described her life before the Event, and it seemed little had changed.

Finally she saw Carol, surrounded by the other women, deep in conversation. She never looked up, so Shelley couldn’t catch her eye and get the woman out of the crowd. Shelley didn’t even think about looking for a seat where the others had congregated. She didn’t fit in to their group, the mothers and almost-mothers who looked to Carol for advice. She wasn’t one of the special ones, the ones who had managed to get their offspring out of the disaster that had wiped out most of the the planet.

People were looking at her as they passed on their way to join friends and family around the tables that had been cleared and lined up in a huge U-shape in the middle of the room. It had once been the main floor of an old airplane factory, from the days of a war so long before that no one now alive remembered it. Later converted into an electronics factory, the building complex had been abandoned and revived several times over the years.

Shelley looked around at the space, which they’d cleared and turned into a dining hall. The high ceilings still had remnants of the pulleys and cranes that had moved the airplane sections around the assembly line.