Other Realms: Eight Stories

By Corbin Buff

An acclaimed collection of eight short stories by Corbin Buff. A blend of thriller, suspense, science-fiction, fantasy, philosophy and the supernatural.
 

The ordinary blurs with the extraordinary in "Other Realms," a collection of eight thrilling stories. Each tale weaves together elements of mystery, horror, science fiction, and the speculative, pulling you into worlds both familiar and alien.

Here's a glimpse of what awaits:
 

• Reaper of the Voiceless: A silent predator hunts in the night, targeting those who've lost their ability to speak. Can anyone halt this merciless reaper before silence spreads?
• The Red Barns of Elmsville: Discover the dark secret behind a quaint town's crimson barns, a revelation that will chill you to the bone.
• The Quickening: Time accelerates unnervingly for Mack Steiner, leading him on a desperate quest to understand his rapidly changing reality.
• The Neighbor Slayer: In a world where noise can kill, one man takes on the grim job of silencing the cacophony, until a twist of fate forces him to confront his own deeds.
• Dr. Kalthazar & the Doom Generator: Dr. Kalthazar's machine feeds on despair, but an unexpected discovery challenges everything he believes about his creation.
• Somewhere There Is a River: In Montana, a town nestled among the river and mountains offers an escape. But at what cost? A tale of desire and consequences.
• Capitol Visions: In this piece of historical fiction, one dreamer dares to envision a different world.
• The School at Divinitum: A mysterious academy teaches the arts of magic, spirituality, and more. But are the lessons more dangerous than they appear?

"Other Realms" beckons you to explore the depths of imagination, where every page turn reveals another shadowy corner of the universe just waiting to be discovered.
 

Perfect for fans of Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Ray Bradbury, and Isaac Asimov, these stories blend the everyday, the uncanny, and the thrill of the unknown.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Silver Buffalo Press
• Release date: Apr 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224341757

Book preview

Corbin Buff

Other Realms

Eight Stories

First published by Silver Buffalo Press 2024

Copyright © 2024 by Corbin Buff

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

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Contents

Reaper of the Voiceless

The Red Barns of Elmsville

The Quickening

The Neighbor Slayer

Dr. Kalthazar & the Doom Generator

Somewhere There Is a River

Capitol Visions

The School at Divinitum

About the Author

Reaper of the Voiceless

I.

Bolting out of the cabin, Jessie opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

Before, as she was washing the dishes, all she’d seen was the flash of the scythe in the kitchen window’s reflection. But that was enough.

Now she ran barefoot in the cool of night, with so much adrenaline coursing through her she couldn’t even feel the driveway’s cragged rocks and pebbles piercing the soles of her feet. In the distance she could see tendrils of fog rising off of her neighbor’s lake. The Boone’s. It was her only hope. But in rural New England, one’s neighbors weren’t exactly close. She could already feel her legs tiring from her desperate sprint, but she didn’t dare turn her head and look back.

She heard him behind her though. Was it a him? All the police reports, the newspaper articles thought so. Whatever he was, she could hear his footsteps moving twice as fast as hers. Was he gaining on her? She had to look.

Turning, all she saw was the scythe flashing in the moon’s reflection. Then the blade bit into her face. She opened her mouth to scream again, and again no sound emerged. The scythe pulled back into her vision. Now it was red instead of white. In the cold and silent night, among the tendrils of fog and the dew just settling on the grass, she saw it whirling toward her once again.

II.

It’s the younger generation who lose their voices first, Detective James Baron said.

Above him, the overcast sky was gray as steel. He looked down at Jessie Sommers’ mutilated face and slashed throat. Beneath his feet, the earth was still damp and loamy. Soon the sun would emerge and smolder the moisture up into the early autumn air.

That’s why I always tell my girls it’s important to keep social, Baron’s partner, Mike Garvey chimed in. It’s not just about keeping the ol’ brain healthy anymore.

This was the third killing, or reaping as the media was calling it. And Detective Baron and Garvey had about as little to go on since when they first got started. Forensics confirmed once again that a razor sharp scythe had been used to do the deed. But when it came to the killer, the case was cold as a dead fish … or as cold as the body of Jessie Sommers.

Neighbors said they didn’t hear anything, Baron said, nodding toward the Boone’s house, toward which Jessie had made her last desperate sprint just the night before.

Of course they didn’t, said Dr. Graff, glancing up from his clipboard. His eyes peered out from his spectacles, looking briefly at the dead body. This one’s been voiceless for about six months, according to my examination.

Baron looked at Garvey. Like I said, always the young ones these days.

Baron was right. The voiceless virus, as it was called, was spreading most prominently in the young these days. It had been hard at work, moving relentlessly across the country for about a decade. Even a rural, scenic Massachusetts town like Elmsville wasn’t spared. In fact, small towns seemed to be getting the worst of it.

Big cities kept people social. One was forced to speak, to interact. At least more often than in a town like Elmsville. Here, where scrub pine forests and crawling woods ran for miles between neighbors, people could go weeks without talking to one another. For the older generations, maintaining one’s voice was easier. They’d had decades of practice keeping social.

But the young? They lived alone. Worked alone, or remotely. Relaxation? Leisure? Also done on screens, alone. Months could pass without them even noticing that they hadn’t made a peep. Months did pass. In silence. Then one day, they would go to speak, and no sound would emerge. Like the muscles of an astronaut or a trapped coal miner, the voice seemingly atrophied and died if not used. Experts recommended citizens speak at least once every month to keep the voiceless virus at bay. But it was easier said than done these days.

And when a person went voiceless, they were the perfect target.

Baron’s walkie-talkie crackled to life. It was HQ with another supposed witness. He didn’t have to look to see Garvey already rolling his eyes.

Another pointless interview with someone who claims to have heard something but can’t provide any concrete details? Can’t wait.

The detectives confirmed the address and set off towards the edge of Elmsville where the witness, Evan Carmine lived. If you could call it living. They could already see from the cruiser that the house looked like it hadn’t seen a visitor in years. The Carmine residence featured windows grimy with dirt and an overgrown yard infested with weeds. A rusty bicycle and old pickup truck sat in the middle of the lawn, clearly forgotten and abandoned to rot into the earth like compost.

They knocked. The door creaked open, revealing a disheveled twenty-something young man, eyes darting with paranoia.

Garvey took a subtle sniff, the smell of rot and decay unmistakable. Inside, the state of disarray was unsettling. Dirty dishes stacked high, rotting food on the counter, old newspapers, and peculiar drawings scattered around.

Um. Do you live here alone? Garvey asked, trying to mask his disgust.

Evan nodded. No visitors. Not anymore.

"But you are Evan Carmine?"

Oh yeah, yeah, I called in.

Baron’s gaze fixed on a wall, covered in newspaper clippings, all detailing the recent