Five Strange Doors: A Gallery of Oddities Collection

By Dean Shearer

Acclaimed author Dean Shearer draws on his library of fantasy stories to produce the first-ever Gallery of Oddities collection, one of the strangest series in all of fiction. 
Five Strange Doors collects five of the bestselling Gallery stories. The collection opens with "A Chat with the Dead," a story of how a man forgot to tell his wife that he was dead. The collection ends with "Letters, Misaddressed," a story so strange, so dark that it changes the course of one man's life forever. And the three stories in the middle are just as weird.
Step into the Gallery of Oddities and discover why patrons never want to escape this strange labyrinth of wonders. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dean Shearer
• Release date: Feb 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215526798

Dean Shearer

Dean Shearer is the author of many fictitious works such as The Cat, The World is Magic, and the short stories series Selah, the Universe. He wishes there was more to say about himself (he likes studying religions and walking barefoot and reading and writing in multiple genres and reading and writing a lot) but there's just too much to say.

Book preview

ONE

You could just die one day, have you ever thought of that? asked Charlie.

Millie ran a hand through her brown hair. She wore a white dress, had one leg crossed over the other, and had a mole on the right side of her nose—just as Charlie did, except his was darker. She said, "Yes, Charlie. You’re always talking down to me. Of course I’ve thought that. We all have."

I think that’s an overstatement, baby, he said, because I didn’t even think about it till just yesterday.

They lived near the train tracks, and a train rumbled by now, rattling everything in the kitchen, including the table which they currently sat at.

Haven’t thought about it till just yesterday? she asked. What do you mean?

"I mean—I mean I just haven’t."

What about when your—excuse me—your dad died? Didn’t you think about dying then? Oh, don’t cry, Charlie. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I’m sorry.

He wasn’t really crying, he had just gotten a little teary eyed. He wiped his eyes with the wrist of his sleeve and, sniffling, said, "No. I didn’t think it could ever happen to me. How could I die, you know? How could Charlie just not be around one day—you know what I’m saying, sweetheart?"

Yes, she said. I know I’m gonna die one day, but I guess I still can’t really imagine it.

I can, said Charlie nonchalantly. I died. Just yesterday morning.

What?

Before even getting out of bed. Look, Millie, he said, taking his hand out of his lap and placing it on the table. I’m all rotten, baby. I’m dead.

His skin was green and cracked, and out of the cracks oozed a bit of yellow-green stuff along with some blood. I’m surprised you didn’t notice, honey.

Millie thought this was fake—he had dressed up his hand with her makeup and such to pull a nice prank on her—but a scream still escaped her mouth. She looked at the calendar hanging in the kitchen, to see if it was April Fools’ Day yet. Nope. Not for another day.

What’s this all about? she asked, slowly rising from her chair, not looking away from that hand even for a moment.

He laughed. "Don’t ask me. I really wouldn’t know. I just know what is, not what’s happening or anything like that. Well, I know what’s happening. I’m dead and I’m rotting. But why? He blew hair out of his face. I wouldn’t have a clue."

You’re not dead, she said, and, despite her disbelief, began backing away from the table. The front door was behind her. When she got close enough to it she’d whip around, unlock it fast as lightning, then bolt out. She’d hide in the park or something—no, she’d go to Jenny’s for a while and not answer his calls, and he’d come out on the streets looking for her, his hands cupped around his mouth, his tongue announcing that it had all been a joke, honey, come on out and let’s go home and get some sleep.

But I am, he said, and pulled open his button-up shirt—snap snap snap—and revealed his hairy chest. Come feel my chest and tell me what you think. Come on, dear. Come on and feel it.

The door actually wasn’t unlocked, so she got out the door quicker than expected. By the time he reached the front door and looked out, she was nowhere in sight.

A soft wind blew, kicking up powdery snow and carrying it over the shining surface of the icy street. Charlie saw footprints in the snow—not shoe prints; she hadn’t put any shoes on. Without putting shoes on himself he followed. His nerve endings weren’t working anymore anyway.

TWO

A knock came on Jenny’s door.

Don’t answer it, whispered Millie, sinking low into the couch so Charlie wouldn’t be able to see her if he just decided to walk