…for a moment the silence was blissful. Then the screaming started…
Writing team Leo and Mike Johnson have their day disturbed when a body turns up near their house.

Newspaper columnist and successful travel writer, Mike Johnson, lingered at the breakfast table, feeling pale and fragile. Over the roar of the vacuum cleaner from upstairs, she could vaguely hear her husband, and illustrator and business manager, Leo, on the phone in his office. He didn’t sound pleased. She sighed inwardly. Leo in a snit was more than she felt able to cope with right now, and she debated just getting in the car and buggering off for a couple of hours. Too late. He poked his hard-edged and handsome face around the door, and she waited for the explosion; but it was okay – he was grinning and his golden, eagle eyes were sparkling.
‘Job done. They are putting back the correct picture to head chapter four of Bogg and Scrat do Dorset.’
Mike processed that.
‘Good. Sorry. I’m not with it this morning. I have a mother of a headache and my guts feel bad too.’
Leo’s mood changed instantly, to genuine concern, and he came over to put a cool hand on her forehead. ‘You taken a painkiller?’
She shook her head and he disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of cold water and a couple of pills. He put them down beside her and moved to the bottom of the stairs.
‘Ro. Can you do some quiet cleaning please? Mike’s got a head.’
The roar of the vacuum cleaner stopped, and for a moment the silence was blissful. Then the screaming started. Leo rushed to the window.
‘What the fuck is that?’
Ro galloped down the stairs.
‘It’s them kids. In the tents on the other side of the river. They’re all over by the swimming hole. Screaming.’
‘Yeah. I get the screaming’ Mike’s voice was rueful. ‘How about somebody goes and tries to find out what’s going on?’
Even as she spoke Leo went. His long-legged lope took him out through the French door to the gate in the garden wall in no time at all. He motioned the dogs to stay and was gone. Ro turned her attention to Mike.
‘You OK?’
‘I think I might be in a minute. Leo got me the industrial strength painkillers.’
‘Did you go to see your Dad yesterday?’
Mike nodded.
‘I dunno why you put yourself through it. He don’t know you’re there.’
‘If I was sure of that I wouldn’t go. But I ain’t. So.’
through the garden door and ran across the grass. He looked far from his usual urbane self, and his face was the colour of porridge.
‘There’s about fifteen hysterical females out there, and a body floating in the swimming hole. Can I bring the young ones in here? I think they need to get where they can’t see the floater.’
Mike nodded. ‘Yeah. Bring them inside. We’ll feed them ice cream. A few calories should help with the calming down process. Has anybody called the police?’
‘No. They haven’t got a mobile.’
‘Teenage girls without mobile phones?’
‘Weird ain’t it. But this is some sort of religious retreat. Supposed to be good for their souls.’
Ro snorted and dragged a battered iPhone out of her pocket. ‘Yeah. Finding a floater will really have done them the power of good.’
From Shall we gather at the river? a hard hitting murder mystery thriller by Jane Jago which is available for 0.99.

Because life happens…

The secret of life you will find
Is simply to try to be kind
If you’ve got to be vile
Then go venting some bile
In private and no one will mind

E.M. Swift-Hook

God had abandoned them.
Or so Jakka’s brother Akari said. She lay back on an outreaching tree branch and contemplated the heavens. Streaking tendrils of orange and pink played across a vast sea of pale blue as the second sun sank beneath a distant wall of mountains.
So beautiful was the evening sky that it had always served to reinforce her devotion to Syri, as did many other natural wonders of her world. But the last season had been harder than any the Vandorian people had known, leaving many dead or battling starvation. Had Syri lost sight of them from his tower? Had they angered him? These and many other questions haunted her thoughts as she struggled to justify the blatant neglect of her people.
Rain hadn’t fallen for the better part of four cycles, and the crops they had counted on to sustain them into the cold times had not survived the drought. What was more, the local herds had all abandoned the region, making it impossible to hunt without an extraordinary cost of provisions and energy, neither of which Syri had granted the tribe’s hunters.
Ignoring the grumbling of her stomach, Jakka leapt down from her perch and started home. Reaching the safety of her village’s bordering walls before nightfall had become essential in recent times, as many dangerous creatures from the region, now desperate for meat, had taken to hunting Vandorians, who had traditionally been avoided for the dangers of tackling such a prize. But alone, equipped with only a few arrows for her bow and a single obsidian blade, she would be no match for several attackers.
She upped her jogging pace to a full run.
“There you are. Mother’s going mad with worry.” Akari was waiting for her by the gate and raised his hands with obvious impatience before ushering her into the village. “As if she didn’t already have enough to worry about, you seem to relish forcing her to contemplate whether or not you’ve become a meal.”
“I didn’t mean for it to get so late. Anyway, I’ve reached adulthood. It is no longer mother’s task to worry for my safety.”
“One who had truly reached adulthood would never say such a thing.”
“I … You’re right … of course. It’s just that I’ve always gone to the arct tree to think in the evening. I won’t let fear take that away from me.”
“No one said you can’t go there to think. The issue is that you wait until second sun has set before you come home. It’s too dangerous.” He grabbed her quiver and gave it a shake. “How do you expect to defend yourself with so few arrows?”
“Okay, I get it. I know you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
Exhaling her animosity, she closed her eyes and nodded. “Yes. I am. I would come home sooner but it has always been during the setting of second sun that I have felt the most connected to Syri. How can I hope for him to hear my pleas if I am disconnected?”
Akari’s expression hardened. “Jakka, Syri has—”
“—abandoned us? Yes, I know what you think. And you know I don’t believe you.”
“Look around. No god would allow their creations to suffer in such a way. If things go on like this, we will all be dead by the end of this rotation. We will not survive the cold if Enuni herds don’t return to this region.”
“The rain will come, you’ll see. Syri is just testing our faith. He gives us so much, and we give little in return. Is he not entitled to test our devotion to ensure we are still worthy of his gifts?”
“We did not ask for this, Jakka. Don’t you see? We were put here for his amusement, and he has grown weary of us. Do you not grow weary of things you once loved? When was the last time you wove arct branches?”
Hurt by his words and unable to conjure a valid response, Jakka stormed away. She entered her hut and ran to her mother, sobbing into the supportive shoulder that had always been there.
“Akari has lost his faith. The things he says are horrible.”
“I know, dear. I have tried to speak with him, but he is angry. Ever since starvation took your father from us, he has been cold and empty inside. His bitterness is all he has to feed on now.”
“Why won’t it rain? Why is Syri doing this to us?”
“Because we have become complacent; assumptive of his many blessings. Tell me, last rotation, how often did you feel compelled to engage in your dedications?”
Shame tugged Jakka’s eyes to the floor. She shifted her feet, searching her mind for a response that might shed a better light on her answer than reality would. Disgraced by the only reply available, she said, “Maybe once a cycle … if that … ”
“And you were not the only one. Many became complacent in the gifts bestowed upon us. Well—now we are made to pay for a lacking gratitude.”
“I have apologized so many times, though. I have beseeched him to have mercy—to forgive us for our many faults. And still, the drought continues. We will not survive much longer if things go on like this.”
“Perhaps it is his will that we die. After all, he gave us life, and he can just as well take it away.”
Too disturbed by her mother’s words to find a response, Jakka went to her bed and curled up, weeping fresh tears of fear and sorrow until sleep brought reprieve.

From ‘The Suns Set’ by Ian Bristow, one of the stories in the SciFi Roundtable‘s anthology Gods of Clay.

Three hours later, when the hosepipe men in the big red lorry had gone, and the biggers with burns and contusions had been treated, peace broke out. The nomes crept towards the ruin of the games room and looked up towards the rest of the house which largely survived undamaged. 

“They was lucky,” Granny said before reapplying herself to her knitting.

Movement from the front door stopped all nomely conversation as Big Bigger and his missus came out onto the lawn.

“Was that my fault?” he asked.

“I dunno. Anyway not too much harm done. But no more fireworks. Ever.”

©jj 2022

Imagine waking up one day unable to recall who you are or where you came from – only to find you are serving a sentence as a convict conscript for crimes you have no memory of ever committing…

‘Tillsa’s Place’ did not look at all promising. The suburb was clearly not one of the best ones in the ‘City and the food outlet looked more of a bar. There were even security personnel on the door and when he went to walk in, one of the two men barred his access with an arm.
“We don’t want people like you in here.”
Avilon hesitated for a moment and reminded himself he must not use force against civilians except in self-defense and even then, never lethal force. So he took a slight step back.
“People like me?”
“Have you looked in the mirror recently?”
“You mean people with green eyes?”
The man laughed. His companion shook his head and said:
“Just go away.”
Avilon thought for a moment, considering the possible ways events could play out. It made no difference, though, he needed to get answers.
“I came here for a particular reason – I would like to go in.”
“Not going to happen.”
He moved forward, aware as he did so he was exposing himself to a potential attack from both sides, but not wanting to be the one to initiate any violence.
He had not expected a knife, but when the man on the left began to draw one, dark bladed, Avilon moved in fast and hard. He grabbed the security man’s head, pulled it down, close in, like an embrace. Stepped in to trap the arm that reached for the knife against the wall. Swung round fast, so the hand pulling the blade free, scraped, bruisingly, over rough cement. He caught the wrist, twisting it back as he hooked the man’s feet out from under him. Then, the knife secured, finished forcing him down, the black blade pressed against the flesh of his neck.
It was over so quickly, the other security man barely moved, except to take a quick step back, spreading his hands in the universal gesture of ‘leave me alone and I’ll not fight’.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asked.
“My name is Vitos Ketzel and I wanted to speak to Tillsa,” Avilon explained, his tone polite.
The security man shook his head.
“Then you are only about twenty years too late. That’s at least how long this place been called Tillsa’s. Has been since I’ve known it. Could be longer. But no one called Tillsa here then and no one here called that now.”
So it was not the place he wanted to find.
“Thank you.”
Avilon released the man he held and stepped back. But even as he turned to leave he saw the man he just disarmed going for another weapon – half kneeling made it a safe bet it would be a ranged one. It was a bad place to start from, but at least the draw came slow. He turned faster and used a controlled kick, under the jaw, snapping the head back. The man fell away and an energy snub dropped from his unconscious fingers. Avilon scooped it up and stepped back again, looking questioningly at the more sensible of the two security guards. He shook his head.
“When your friend wakes up,” Avilon said, “tell him not to carry weapons he can’t use.”
Then he walked off, dropping the snub in a litter bin nearby. One of the conditions of his release was not to carry firearms.

From Trust A Few – book one in Haruspex, the second Fortune’s Fools trilogy by E.M. Swift-Hook – which is only 0.99 to buy for a limited period.

It hadn’t been in her life plan. She hadn’t intended to become the poster-person, the voice, of a cause. It was just she’d been the one there. Right there, when something happened. And she’d been the one in the crowd who spoke up.
Of course, she hadn’t known it was being recorded. Until her friends started on about how she was going viral. And how brave she had been.
She hadn’t been brave, just there.
When they asked, she shrugged and said: “Someone had to say something. I only did what anyone would do.”
“Yes. But no one else did.”

E.M. Swift-Hook

Because life happens…

You know you are old when you say
Things were never like that in my day
And you no longer care
To spend hours on your hair
Cos you’d much rather go out and play

E.M. Swift-Hook

The Dragonheart Stories:Fairytales for Grownps by Jane Jago is free until 2 March.

Dragonflight

I saw a flight of dragons once
Across the sunset sky
And as they rode the thermals
I wished that I could fly
The dying sun turned skins to gold
And wings to every hue
I thought that I knew beauty
But I learned that wasn’t true
I saw a flight of dragons once
They’re printed on my brain
I think I’d give my sight away
To see that flight again

Dragonheart

In Dragonheart there are no second chances.
The dragon spiralled down out of the sunset, with the orange light setting his skin aflame so that he looked as if he was made of oil and steel. Tia stood and watched, wryly noting the Diamond Throne banner, whilst being careful not to move or speak until the shining one’s feet touched the ground and he furled his wings.
She bowed her head in a formal gesture of welcome.
“Greetings lady,” the voice inside her head was deeper than she expected. This must be a full male, which meant he would be a shifter as well. He would bear watching. Carefully.
“Greetings, bright one.”
The dragon regarded her out of whirling multi-faceted eyes before bowing his head. The silence lengthened, and seemed to Tia that her uninvited guest was trying to make her nervous with his lack of comment. She broke the silence in a deliberately small voice.
“What does my lady mother want of me?”
“Naught. She would merely ascertain that you are well.”
Tia cast down her eyes so he could not see her contempt.
“Perhaps my lord dragon would care to assume his human form and venture inside, to where we can speak in more comfort.”
If it was possible for a dragon to look puzzled, he did so.
“May one ask what makes you think this dragon has a human form?”
For a moment Tia dropped her shield of humility.
“Who am I?” she raised a narrow dark eyebrow.
He thought about that one for a moment before dipping his head.
“One is ashamed.”
Tia was at great pains not to show her contempt for that remark.
“I apologise. It was not my intention to cause you disquiet.”
She felt the dragonish laughter as a vibration that ran right through her skeleton.
“My name is M’a’tsu, and I would be honoured to visit with you.”
Tia curtseyed.
“I will leave you to make the change in privacy.”
She turned and made her way across the flower strewn meadow to the grey stone buildings that clustered at the base of the cliffs and the stone stairway to the temple.
M’a’tsu watched her go, enjoying her long-legged stride and the way her body moved under the simple linen robe she wore. He found himself fantasising about tying her up with the rope of her own black hair, which hung in a braid almost to her knees. Giving himself a sharp inward reminder that he wasn’t there for pleasure, he took the necessary time to compose his mind before making the change.
Once he was in his human form, he stretched for a moment enjoying the different sensations afforded by thinner skin. He looked down at his muscular perfection and briefly considered remaining unclothed but the pleasure of the rapidly cooling air against his human flesh had to be balanced against the possibility of giving offence. Accordingly he shifted himself leather trews and a waistcoat, electing to remain barefoot for the sheer delight of the feel of grass beneath him.

This is an extract from ‘Dragonheart’ one of the adult fairy tales in The Dragonheart Stories by Jane Jago. It is free to download until 2 March. You can listen to this on YouTube.

The drunk biggers in the house started a countdown.

Ten, nine, eight…

At one nothing happened, and Big set out across the wet garden to see what was wrong.

Luckily for him, he had only gone about three paces when there came a flash and a bang and the ‘rocket launcher’ lurched to one side as the big flaming thing flew… 

…straight towards the revellers gathered on the balcony.

The biggers threw themselves to the ground as the firework flashed through the open doors and exploded dramatically in the middle of the room.

Mayhem ensued, watched by the curious nomes.

©jj 2022

Roguing Thieves is a previously unpublished Fortune’s Fools story by E.M. Swift-Hook.

Two years after she had graduated, almost to the day, Pan was companion of honour to Jennay as she and her wife were married in one of the special chambers of the administrative building set aside for such ceremonies. They had chosen a blue-themed ambiance and classic wedding music. It was a beautiful event and afterwards, the two families mingled at an open-air meal with live music and dancing.
Pan mingled a little but was not interested in dancing. So she sat chatting with Grim about his upcoming exams when a link text dropped into her inbox. For a moment she didn’t believe it. Then she did and her heart seemed to swell physically behind her ribs.
I’ve missed you so much. Sorry for not keeping in touch but work has been crazy. Can we get together soon? xxx
“You alright, Pan?” She glanced up to see Grim was staring at her with a worried expression. “You’ve gone very pale. Do you want me to get you some water?”
For Grim to show that degree of concern she must be looking ill.
“No,” she said quickly. “It’s just…”
Then it all came out.
Grim was a good listener and always less judgemental than either of their sisters. Or if he was he kept it to himself behind that expressionless face. When she finished, the sounds of the festivities all around seemed to come from another planet.
“You going to meet him then?”
That was the question. It wouldn’t be hard. She had subsidised flights from working for Rota and nearly two cycles of untaken vacation due. Her heart had no doubts at all what the answer should be, but her head was calling for caution. Tolin had let their relationship all but die. Did she really want to open herself up to that kind of hurt again?
“You think I should?”
Grim said nothing for a moment and was clearly weighing things up from the lofty heights of a fifteen-year-old’s wisdom.
“I think you’ll regret it if you don’t,” he told her.
She found herself nodding agreement.

They met on Thuringen. A place called Starcity which had a bad reputation for it’s lax approach to organised crime. Pan didn’t see anything that struck her as particularly criminal as she headed through the spaceport. But then she had come in on a Rota freighter and her route out of the port was through an area controlled by their tight security.
Once outside, after the substantive grandeur of Central, she was underwhelmed by the squat, mid-rise blocks that dominated the skyline here.
She summoned an auto-cab and took a short flight to the bar she had logged on her link. A place called Voltz, which the augmented details told her was a popular hangout for freetraders, mercenaries and bounty hunters. Not surprisingly, this was close to the freight end of the spaceport, not far from cheap-rent docking bays.
He was sitting in an alcove and she nearly missed him. If he hadn’t been on her augmented track she would have walked past. As it was even when he stood up she was thinking there had to be a mistake. He looked thin instead of muscular, his face was haggard, part of one ear was missing and there was heavy scar tissue over his cheek and jaw on that side.
A moment later his arms were around her holding her close and she could feel a slight tremor in his grip.
“I’ve missed you so very much, Pan. I was frightened you wouldn’t come. I don’t deserve you, I really don’t.”
She pushed him gently away, holding him at arm’s length and taking in the changes, wondering if she looked just as different to him.
“What’s happened? Are you ill?” She lifted one hand to touch his mangled ear then couldn’t quite bring herself to touch it. “What…?”
He captured her hand and used it to tug her towards the table. As he turned she caught his uninjured profile and a smile, so familiar it hurt. She took a seat beside him and he pushed a drink across the table.
“Your favourite. Well, it always was. I’m sorry if it’s not what you’d want now but the service here is old school. You have to walk to the bar. So I got it in ready for you.”
Pan glanced at the drink. A Colotu spritzer, a recreational she hadn’t touched since her student days. With a shock, she realised she had changed as well these last two years. It was a lot to take on board.
She shook her head slowly. “Just tell me what’s happened to you. Was there an accident? If you need money to get your face fixed properly, I can help.”
She could too. She had been saving the last two years.
“You’d do that?” Tolin laughed briefly. Recapturing her hand, he took it to his lips then placed the palm against the ruined flesh of his face. “No. I truly don’t deserve you. I was thinking you’d take one look and walk out on me. That’s why I didn’t keep in touch. I couldn’t bear even the thought…”
Whatever he had been through had taken the sparkle from his eyes. Without really knowing why, Pan leaned in and kissed him. For a few moments the world around them didn’t matter and when she sat back, Pan found her head and her heart had made peace.
“I wish you had come to me before,” she told him. “I’m not so shallow that you being injured is going to make me stop caring. Tell me what happened and we’ll sort things.”

There will be more Roguing Thieves next Sunday…