Category Archives: Speculative Fiction

A Tangled Web

Image: Co-Pilot AI Generated

A Tangled Web

As I approached I could see another bouquet adorning my beloved’s gravesite. That makes new flowers nine days straight. I thought while trying to put the puzzle pieces together in my head. It may have been going on longer, but it had been months since I last visited.

The pain of Ethel’s loss had paralysed me. I wore the grief like a pair of cement shoes. At first I moved through the sludge unaware that I was sinking deeper as it hardened around me. The weight of the unbearable darkness blinding me from finding any escape. I’m not a young man and even time, the healer of all things, seemed unlikely to be enough to free me.

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White lilies, pink and purple roses, and some other greenery set in a white vase. The same vase that three days ago held a single red rose. Who was leaving these flowers? Wooing her from the grave in my neglect.


Six thirteen, the sun blinking her eyes open to greet the new day. A thin sliver of warm light cut Roger in two. Tucked behind the old sycamore, itself standing tall before the thick bramble that lined the boundary between the living and the dead. Inconspicuous, like the ghosts that walked this place for a hundred years, he watched.

Image: Unknown

A small figure sauntered through the open gate. Something clasped in their hand as they weaved amongst the other graves, careful to tread lightly. They stopped to make the sign of the cross at a fresh site before continuing. Roger felt anticipation, dread, the mystery coming to conclusion or maybe just beginning.

Alex? His long-time assistant from what seemed another lifetime approached the grave. What are they doing here? Did she know? Had she taken our secrets to her grave?

Alex knelt before the grave, discarding yesterday flowers, replacing them with a small fresh wreath. Alex sat there for a long moment. Roger thought he could see a tear fall. He wanted to reach out, but his own guilt rooted him in place, like the old sycamore concealing his position. The past worming its way to the surface, all his failings and insecurities rushing out.

Ten years had passed since Roger last saw Alex. The pair had fought many corporate battles side by side and become the best of friends. Both he and Ethel had welcomed Alex into their family. One summer evening in the den, Roger and Alex crossed the line from friends to lovers. Passion fueling their indiscretion as Ethel prepared dessert down the hall.

That spark would ignite a fire that would burn for just over a year. When Ethel was present it was as if nothing had changed but when she wasn’t it was intensely intimate right up until Alex abruptly resigned. Roger recalled how it was when Alex left. The struggled capturing what he had with the woman he loved and the broken heart his confidante left behind.


I continued to visit the grave two or three time a week after that. Always waiting until I was certain Alex wasn’t going to be there. Every time I visited there were fresh flowers waiting for me, for her. I had plenty of questions that I didn’t want answered so I avoided any chance of confrontation.

Image: Co-Pilot AI Generated

One afternoon as I dozed on the porch of our old home I was startled awake by a familiar voice.

“Roger, how have you been?”

I looked up to see Alex standing with one resting on the first step. I didn’t know what to say. “Alex, what, nice to see you?” Hardly a graceful comeback. Their unmistakable scent filling the air I had to take a moment to catch my breath. It was like they’d never left. “I didn’t think I ever see you again.” I was careful to not slip, to say anything about Ethel’s graveside visits.

“She knew, you know. I didn’t tell her but she was already a step ahead.”

I grimaced and then asked, “How and when?”

“She knew almost from the start. She asked one afternoon as we lay in each others’ arms. I didn’t know what to say but she immediately saw it in my eyes. She reached over, brushed the hairs from my face and kissed me. Although we spend many hours together after that, we never spoke of it again.”

“How long Alex?”

“Right up until the end… She loved both of us, just as you did. I couldn’t ask her to leave you but I also couldn’t reconcile how we all fit together. I had to make a choice, and she took that secret with her.”


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Out of Control

Out of Control

Fast and furious, consumed by a fire intentionally set to burn out of control. For three weeks we ate, slept, and breathed each other, we couldn’t get enough. Leading us here, all hopped up on adrenaline and desire in a log cabin on the edge of nowhere.

It started with no expectations, just a chance meeting in that little coffee shop on West 92nd. She caught me staring at her as she flipped her head nonchalantly in my direction. Like a deer caught in the headlights, all I could do was shoot her a smile. It must have been something special because it pierced her heart with an accuracy that would have impressed Cupid. Before we could even process the tidal wave that engulfed us both, we were tangled in each other’s arms, like bramble left to grow wild.

It wasn’t just sex either, it was more. Visceral and at the same time intellectual. Intensely passionate yet soft and meandering. Physical yet vibrating on a higher plane.

But as fires burn they mellow. Without more fuel they fade and eventually the last embers blink out. I could have handled that, even anticipated sifting through the ashes but who could have foreseen its abrupt end? The ring of her phone sucking all traces of oxygen from the room. The flames extinguished in a suffocating instant.

I’m left to watch through the window as she sits like a ghost on the edge of the dock. I don’t know who called or what was spoken but as I watch her in the breeze, I can feel the moment slipping away. Dissolving into the landscape one grain at a time. By sunrise, she will be gone…


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Wounded

Wounded

What they see is happy-go-lucky, not a care in the world. Like cool watermelon dripping down a child chin in the hot, noon day sun or ice cream filled evenings walking the state fair midway. A kaleidoscope of happy colours swirling around a perfect life.

If only they could see the tears behind the façade. Years of unhealed scars festering beneath the surface.  Small pieces if flesh taken with every new cut. Revealed in the only place it can’t be hidden, in the black of dead eyes nobody bothers to peer into.

Demons trapped and screaming to be released but like a wounded animal concealed from the predators circling. The world begging us to celebrate our weaknesses like a badge of honour. Sycophants waiting to pounce for their own benefit, but I will never reveal what’s eating away my insides, clawing to escape my control.    


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A Homecoming Story

A Homecoming Story

John Ronald lay in bed struggling to breathe, each drag more laborious than the previous. He knew the end was near, his lungs were filling with blood and fluid faster than his body could work to clear them. Making peace with the inevitable, he closed his eyes and waited. His wife had long since crossed over and there was nothing left for him to hang on to in this world. His kids, standing at his side in these final moments, would get on just fine after he’d gone. They were supposed to outlive him anyway.

At ease, he began to drift. Aimless at first but soon he was riding the crest of a current pulling him toward the light. Moving faster as his life passed before him until he was immersed in the glow. Everything faded in an instant as he crossed the threshold. Nothing more than a brief flash before arriving in a small shire on the other side.

Drawing in a long easy breath, he surveyed his new, yet familiar surroundings. There was an energy about this place that bristled through the thick morning mist. Although he could only glimpse moments of movement through the scattering sunlight, the bustle of this place was evident. The inhabitants flitted and danced about their business, filling the sweetly scented air with joy, song and raucous laughter.

As the air cleared and the scene settled into focus a shoeless half-man in a green vest, grey shirt and potato sack pants stepped up next to him. The halfling paused, taking a moment to look out across the scene before them. Then scrunching up his face he spoke, “Welcome! Welcome, Mr. Tolkien, it is a pleasure to have you back in Hobbiton. Your place in the hillside is ready for you and as luck would have it, you are just in time for second breakfast.”


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What Are the Chances?

What Are the Chances?

“Turn off the transporter beam Umek, and put this thing in cloak mode,” Temu said while shielding its six eyes and looking away from the lonely soul standing on the side of an old Earth road.

“What don’t you think he can see you?” Umek shot back, “You are a humongous moron.”

 “Whatever, just get us the hell out of here!”

“Awwww, come on, he looks like he needs a lift and we could use some company. Besides, if he turns out to be a dick we can just drop him off at the next galaxy.”

“Are you nuts, we ain’t no bleepin’ Galactic Uber service. Did you not read the sign we passed about a parsec back?”

“What are the chances…”

“…that he’s a bloody axe murderer! I’d rather not find out.” Temu interrupted.

After a brief pause, Umek continued, “…where is your sense of adventure, aren’t you getting sick of being trapped in this tin can with me yet?”

“You have no idea…”


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16. Revenge: The Captive Soul

16-1. Revenge: The Captive Soul (Followed)

Inez always came to mind in the aftermath of one of his excursions. What would she say, he thought.

Across town, his former lover walked along the trail from town. She sensed its presence, a shiver running up her spine. The treetops rustled and swayed overhead as if something was tracking her, waiting for an opening to swoop down. She hurried her step…

Unknown

16-2. Revenge: The Captive Soul (Revealed)

Breathtaking, like the air had been removed. She gasped as it settled behind her.

16-3. Revenge: The Captive Soul (Understanding)

Inez awoke in her bedroom. She could feel Charles’ fingerprint on the woman sitting beside her.

“I didn’t know!” She blurted out in fear.

“Perhaps, but you sensed the potential that lay within, even showed great enterprise in controlling it for a while” Lilith’s eyes darted to the beast. “I mean no harm but you have something I need.” She said as the beast set the box down next to Inez.

“The Ring?”

Unknown

16-4. Revenge: The Captive Soul (Secret)

Inez didn’t know the ring’s secret but she could see the beast, clad in its coat of mail, flinch as she reached for it.

“Yes,” said Lilith, “but it’s more, I need you to help stop him.”


The Revenge Series

17. Coming Soon >>


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15. Revenge: The Morning After

Content Warning: Contains graphic sexual violence. Reader discretion is advised.

15. Revenge: The Morning After

It was only 10:00am, but it felt like midnight. With self-loathing, he replayed every detail. Paralyzed yet conscious as each button released between his fingers, her body twitching as his hand pursed her thigh. Charlie had grown accustomed to the spasms, a side effect of the sedative.

He recalled the first time it happened. Startled, he instinctually pounced, wrapping his hands around the woman’s neck. Letting go after confirming she hadn’t woken and watching the bruises darken through the night. The next morning he could hear gravel in her voice as she fled.


The Revenge Series


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Butch and the Illusionist (Part 2)

Unknown

Butch and the Illusionist (Part 2)

“A disguise?” Paisley queried. “You planning another job? Not this train, I hope.”

“Relax, nothing worth taking on this one,” Cassidy said as he turned to his sidekick and gestured for them to leave.

The Sundance Kid stood up, “Come on Etta, let’s get a drink while the boss talks.”

Butch and Paisley watched as Longabaugh and Place passed a drunk entering from the next car. He stumbled down the aisle, a flask of whiskey in hand. As the man got closer Paisley recognized him. Arlo Arbuckle, an old magician who’d been on the circuit for years before Paisley had arrived in the new world. Rumour had it he was once a highly regarded wizard.

Arbuckle raised his flask when he recognized Paisley. Jamison nodded back.

“He with you?” Butch asked as he watched the man drop into a seat three rows away.

“Coincidence, just an old wizard I know. He’s more about the drink than magic these days.”

Butch turned back to Paisley, “You know, I’ve done some things but I’m not getting any younger. Harry and I are looking to head south, like South America south. maybe Argentina or somewhere no one will find us. Etta’s getting tired of the fugitive life and Harry promised to settle down, maybe do some ranching.”

“So why the disguise?”

“You know, Harry will be fine but out there but the Pinkerton Detective Agency won’t let me rest.”

“So you want a new identity? Leave Robert Parker behind in America?”

“Something like that but I need to be dead or they will keep hunting. Even now they are getting ready to meet us when we disembark in New York.”

“I’m sure I can conjure up something crude to get you through the crowd undetected. Once we are somewhere I can work we can do something a little more permanent. You’ll be a new man by the time you board passage to Buenos Aries.”

“No Jamison, I need something permanent. America needs to believe that Butch Cassidy of the notorious Wild Bunch is dead or in prison. I want my end posted on the front page of every ink-stained rag in the Union.

“What did you have in mind, Butch?”

“I want you to conjure up a perfect copy of me, identical in every way. The slightest irregularity will sow a seed of doubt. When I, well my doppelganger, gets off this train the Pinkertons need to believe it’s me and the minute that unsuspecting sod flinches… well you can figure the rest out for yourself.”

“You are asking me to sacrifice another passenger? I’ve done some messed up shit Butch but even if it were possible, which it is not, I’d be sentencing someone to death out on that platform.”

“…and I’d slip out the back a changed man, free, never to rob another train or take another life again.” He placed a satchel full of enough money to take me back to Europe, or across the world to Australia on the seat across from him. I’d be able to escape the restrictive laws America places on witches and warlocks. Go somewhere I could use all of my talents. I’d be free.

To be continued…


Butch and the Illusionist

Part 3 Coming Soon >>


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Butch and the Illusionist (Part 1)

Butch and the Illusionist (Part 1)

The colours of fall blurred across the cabin window as the endless landscape streaked past. Jamison Paisley held a whiskey, poured neat of course, in his right hand. Sitting quietly in the last coach as it swayed gently from side to side, the tail of an iron dragon belching smoke and steam into an endless country sky. The rhythmic click of truck-on-rail soothing his frayed nerves as he drifted back and forth from consciousness to meditative trance.

Earlier in the day Paisley had received a telegram with instructions to catch the 9:47 am to New York. This was not a request, the ticket was waiting at the station. Paisley threw together an overnight bag and headed to Union Depot. Hard to believe Cleveland was once home to the largest railway station in the Union before Grand Central opened in New York.

Paisley was a tall man, six-one, six-six including top hat, with longish black hair and a well-manicured beard. He’d considered shaving it clean off; it seemed every run-of-the-mill magician was sporting one these days and if he was anything it wasn’t a conformist. Sure, he’d played the grandest of venues in his time, entertaining kings and queens, and dining with emperors and czars for almost nine centuries. An accomplished mage, he also plied his trade along the fringes, sometimes working with those skirting, or outright ignoring the law. He’d learned long ago that these types were not a patient lot.

Jamison noted the number “22” emblazoned on the coach’s exterior as he boarded. He perambulated the aisle and carefully examined each row before arriving at the last. Sitting in the aisle seat facing the front of the train was a deliberate choice, It gave him a full view of the cabin and anyone entering through the gangway door at the far end. A whoosh of cold air blew in from behind and a moment later a man in a long black coat and cowboy hat dropped into the rear-facing seat across the aisle.

“Robert Leroy Parker.” Paisley glanced at the antique pocket watch he’d received as a gift from King Leopold I, it read 13:00, matching exactly the telegram he’d received earlier. Well actually, 1:00pm but the telegraph utilized a 24-hour clock.

“Shhh, keep that under your hat, you and my Mama are the only ones who know who that is.”

“I see you are right on time, Butch.”

“You know, when you rob trains punctuality is important. I’m kind of a stickler for that sorta thing.”

“I guess so, what can….” Paisley stopped mid-sentence to watch a tall well groomed man with a cool drink of water on his arm make their way down the aisle and into the seat across from Cassidy.

“Jamison, you know Harry Longabaugh…” the Sundance Kid tipped his hat as Cassidy continued, “and this is his girl Etta.”

Paisley smiled, tipping his hat to the lady and then turning back to Butch, “What can I do for you Robert?”

“I need you to cook up a disguise,” he said.

To be continued…


Butch and the Illusionist

Part 2 Coming Soon >


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14. Revenge: Reluctant Voyeur

Unknown

14. Revenge: Reluctant Voyeur

Charlie slipped out before the fog lifted. In the past, he’d stay to provoke a reaction. Now, primarily for his own self-preservation, it was enough to watch from a distance. One last jolt of adrenaline before the hollow thrill of conquest was replaced by a saturnine lull.


The Revenge Series


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