Two Women and Some Books
The dream came as it did every night…
Something moving, lifting him, an arm under his shoulder. A voice – his brother’s voice – Avilon Revid.
“Let’s get you out of here.”
….. waking was always sudden and never easy.
A Fortune’s Fools’ story by E.M. Swift-Hook.
Featuring Darek Kemp from Earth No. 105,
courtesy of Ame Terra.
From ‘Moristoun’ by Kevin McAllion
The journey from Buchan’s desk to the toilet at the far corner of his office was only about 10 metres but it felt far further as he dragged McSorely’s body across the floor. The frame of his apprentice was deceptive as McSorely’s suit did a good job of concealing the spare tyre he had been cultivating with comfort food and Cliftonhill pies since Sarah’s departure from the kitchen had freed him from the constraints of healthy eating. Over 13 stone was packed into his five foot 10 inches and as Buchan hauled McSorely into the toilets, he yearned for a return to the days when the development of a Rubenesque figure was limited to wealthy gourmands. After laying McSorely down on the toilet floor, he made a mental note to invest in a wheelbarrow before Farqhuar added another Q99 to his workload. It was only a matter of time before the burden of obesity pushed a more dedicated aficionado of square sausage, caramel wafers and takeaway pizzas towards suicide and Buchan realised he would need some assistance if taking them through the portal was the only way to avoid permanent passage to Moristoun by more conventional means. Such cases were admittedly rare but the sight of McSorely slumped across the toilet floor provided all the motivation Buchan needed to prepare for all eventualities. Although the most physically demanding aspect of taking his passenger to Moristoun was now over, Buchan was still faced with the challenge of fitting both himself and McSorely into the cubicle marked with the sign “Out of Order”. One final heave was required to hoist McSorely on to the toilet seat and Buchan made sure his new employee was balanced enough to avoid a headlong fall before turning round to lock the cubicle door. He then pressed down on the flush and waited for the required 30 seconds as they were spirited away to Moristoun’s shores.
When Buchan opened the cubicle door, he was relieved to find Farqhuar waiting for him in the toilet attached to his Council office. Any hope his superior would lend a helping hand in transporting McSorely soon vanished, though, as Farqhuar insisted such an act of manual labour was beneath him and limited his contribution to holding the toilet door open as Buchan dragged the new arrival into the office. This soured Buchan’s mood somewhat and ensured he failed to fully appreciate some rare words of praise from Farqhuar after all three figures had taken the weight off their feet. “I doff my cap to you, Buchan,” he said. “I really didn’t fancy your chances with this particular Q99 but, if my eyes do not mistake me, that is most definitely the pathetic figure of James Patrick McSorely slumped in my leather armchair. I take it you have the required paperwork to justify his presence here?”
Read our short interview with Kevin, follow news of the book on Twitter: @Moristoun, check out the cool trailer – or just buy the book!
We caught up with Kevin McAllion, author of ‘Moristoun’ and asked him a few probing questions.
The idea of eating haggis pretty much terrified me when I was younger. When it comes to a disturbing list of ingredients, haggis can only be matched by the rider for Black Sabbath’s infamous 1983 tour. But haggis has won me over as I’ve grown older and the prospect of eating offal cooked inside the lining of a sheep’s stomach now fills me with excitement rather than dread. I’m also a big fan of porridge, mainly as a 43 pence bag of oats from Lidl can keep me fed at breakfast time for at least a couple of weeks, an alluring idea for any penny-pinching Scotsman. But when tasked with picking between these two national dishes, I would have to plump for haggis as it also contains oatmeal, so you technically get to eat some porridge at the same time.
Many people will tell you that a true Scotsman wears nothing under his kilt but that’s a load of bollocks. Any self-respecting Scot will have a bottle of Irn-Bru, a fish supper and a Proclaimers CD safely stored away under their kilt in case of emergencies.
My essential item would be a monkey hypnotist, something I rarely leave home without. The hypnotist could fool all the simians on the island into thinking I was their God, handing me an army of compliant and fearful apes. I could then live a life of luxury as my underlings deliver a steady supply of food and provide constant entertainment. The hypnotist can even get the monkeys to create a statue of their divine leader, leaving a permanent reminder of my glorious reign as ruler of the isle before I’m eventually overthrown and beaten to a bloody pulp by either a cabal of revolutionary macaques or a jealous hypnotist.
In anticipation for this eventuality, I’d pick all of the Planet of the Apes movies and a portable DVD player powered by solar energy as my luxury item so I can study simian military manoeuvres and psychology in depth then draw up a watertight counter-revolutionary plan.
You can find out more about Kevin on his Website, follow him on Twitter @kevmcallion or find him on Facebook.
I’d like to show you my humble home.
I’m sure you notice the gorgeous redwood floors, Those are actually 80 year old oak floors that I stained with human blood. The wood was dry enough to soak up the blood nicely and then I just had to varnish them.
I can see from your expression that you are amazed, and I do admit it was a lot of work but well worth it.
I also made the couch myself, I had to learn to make my own leather. Human flesh is tough to work with but after a few botched skins I learned to make it. And I think that handcrafted charm gives the room just the right touch.
Have a seat, the padding is made out of human hair and it is amazingly comfortable.
I see you’re shaking your head no. I guess with your hands tied behind your back it would be hard to sit comfortably.
Coming into the kitchen, I’d like to point out the grout work. Those flakes you see in the grout I made myself out of human bones. It’s a tough process grinding up a person’s bones to a uniform small size but in the end, the satisfaction of creating a truly unique floor is well worth it.
As an added bonus, what I couldn’t use on the floor makes a great soil enhancer. You wouldn’t believe the size of the tomatoes I grew in the soil where I dumped the left over bone dust.
Of course I have to use a gentle soap to keep it looking nice.
I make my own. Human fat makes such a wonderful soap.
On the table there you can see my soup bowl collection. I could have gone out and bought a set, but that seemed too impersonal. I hand crafted each one out of human skulls, It’s quite a process sanding and polishing the skulls, but I feel the food tastes so much better out of a bowl I made myself than out of some cheap bowl made in China.
Although the raw materials from one did originally come from China, I think that’s where she was from anyway.
Of course the set wouldn’t be complete without the silverware. I polished and shaped each handle from the hand bones of the owner of the skull, it’s a small detail but I believe it’s the attention to the little things that lift good design into a work of art.
Wouldn’t you agree?
I can see by your wide eyed stare that you are trying to take it all in, I’ll take that as a compliment.
In keeping with the theme, if you notice the frame of the chalkboard there, the flakes of texture are the left over fingernails, I dipped them in fingernail polish before gluing them on, which I think is a nice touch.
I do have to make a small confession here, I cheated on the glue. At first I tried to make my own glue from finger and toenails but I found that was a lot tougher than you’d think.
That wasn’t the only thing that didn’t go exactly as planned, of course.
I wanted to replace the plumbing with bones. I figured cleaning out the marrow from the bones would make a nice replacement for pipes, but I never managed to get them to form a watertight seal. I just ended up making a big mess.
I can see the thought of a mess terrifies you, but don’t worry it wasn’t that bad. Nothing a good mopping couldn’t take care of.
I must apologize, all this talking has left me a little thirsty, do you mind if I pour myself some wine. I’d offer you some but that would involve taking the gag out of your mouth.
Oh, do you like my Bota Bag for the wine. It’s made from the human stomach. It doesn’t really hold enough to be practical but since I’m not a heavy drinker I can sacrifice a little convenience for style. And I think the added layer of formality enhances the flavor.
I can see from your look you’re nervous about why I am showing you all this. Let me put your mind at rest I’m not trying to sell you this house.
After all the work I put into personalizing it, I don’t think I could ever sell it.
No, I wanted you to see the loving care I put into remodeling this house to let you know I’ll take the same care with you.
I wish it could be different, but I really have to redecorate my home office.
A HOME TO DIE FOR was originally published in Alienskin Magazine. It is available for free with another short story, THE ADJUSTER, at Smashwords.
Darrell B. Nelson is a former Securities Broker and Insurance Agent who has decided to use the total meltdown of his former industry, and the total destruction of any illusions of personal financial security the meltdown caused, as an opportunity to pursue a writing career.
When he started writing he knew in the future his works would be of great importance, as time travellers arrived and started watching his every move. Or, maybe they were cats, wondering if he would pet them and rub their ears. Time Travelers have whiskers and like to curl up in your lap, right?
In his free time, he likes to hang out on Facebook, marvelling at how far we’ve come since the time of the Egyptians who would worship cats and write on walls.
Dying to be Roman is an alternate history novella that is both fun to read and a poignant reflection of our own world. Swifthook and Jago deliver on what alternate history does best in a fun and flirty murder mystery set in a Rome that never collapsed.
Dai and Julia are investigators. Dai is a Briton and a second-class citizen of a Roman-controlled Europe. When the murders involve the son of a Senator, Julia is brought in to oversee the case.
Now, I confess that Roman history is not my strength, so I’m unsure if the Point of Departure that enables Rome to endure for 2,000 years works. It’s unlikely the Roman Empire would have survived that long, so one must suspend disbelief, but not too much. The setting and characters are believable, interesting, and the story is fast-paced. So it’s easy to lose yourself in the narrative.
While on the surface, Dai and Julia must solve the mystery of the murders, Dying to be Roman is really about the inequalities of the elite vs everyone else, which can be mirrored onto our world. But what’s great about the story is that this theme carries on silent under the surface of the story, so that while the social commentary is there (important that it is), it still delivers on an entertaining and believable read. It’s a great alternate history and murder mystery mash-up!
From the pen of the lovely Lyra Shanti
Zin didn’t seem to hear; he was busy staring at something in a shop window. Ayn tried to see what his friend was so enthralled with, but he couldn’t be sure since there were so many different objects in the store.
“Ayn…” whispered Zin, “look at it. Isn’t it the most lovely thing you’ve ever seen?”
Ayn looked again through the shop’s window, trying his best to see what was catching Zin’s eye.
“Um,” said Ayn, “what do you see?”
As Ayn looked at his Zin’s face, he saw a hint of pain in his friend’s eyes. Whatever it was that had captured Zin’s attention, it was obviously something very important to him.
Zin finally pointed at the object, touching his forefinger on the glass of the window. “It’s the most beautiful elenon I’ve ever seen.”
“What’s an elenon?” Ayn asked.
Zin slowly turned to Ayn, then looked at him as if he had asked him what the sky was. However, instead of answering Ayn’s question, he took Ayn’s hand and led him into the shop.
As Zin targeted the elenon straight away, Ayn looked around, slack-jawed. He had never seen so many musical instruments! Picking up the eight-stringed instrument, Zin soon began strumming and finger-picking at the same time, which amazed Ayn. He couldn’t believe how good Zin was; it was if he had been playing the instrument his entire life.
The shop filled with sweet harmonics, lulling Ayn into a state of peaceful transcendence. A few minutes went by as Zin played what Ayn assumed to be some sort of old folk music. When Zin finished the song, the last chord he strummed was still ringing in Ayn’s ears. The melodic resonance almost made Ayn cry, for it reminded him of the holy songs of his people.
“Zin,” said Ayn with a quivering voice, “when did you learn to play so beautifully?”
Gently putting the elenon down on the display window, Zin sighed and gave Ayn a melancholy look. “A long time ago, Ayn,” he replied wistfully.
Ayn could feel his soul-friend’s sadness as if it were his very own.
From Shiva XIV
Lyra has kindly allowed us to talk briefly with Ayn, the hero of her Shiva XIV books
Question one:
In a relationship what is of the most importance: love, lust or loyalty?
I believe it is a combination of all three that sustains a balanced and good relationship… of a romantic nature, that is. If I had to choose one choice for any form of relationship, I would choose loyalty. Without trust, there is nowhere to stand.
Question two:
If you could be anyone but yourself, who would you be?
I would be my friend Axis. He can change his physical form to fit whatever he needs or feels at the time. Also, he can fly! In addition, he can time shift, though he isn’t quite in control of that power. But I imagine such abilities could be freeing, and fun.
Question three:
If you were taking your creator on a date where would you take her?
Lyra? I don’t think she likes dates… certainly not with me, her alter-ego, but if she did, I suppose I would take her into space, into the very vortex of time itself. We could perhaps talk about the meaning of creation and time, and maybe she’d even give me a glimpse of my future. Then again, most creators from the stories I’ve read are selfish and coy. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were the same.
To learn more about Lyra and her work visit:
https://www.amazon.com/Lyra-Shanti/e/B004RZZEXW/
http://www.lyrashanti.com; http://www.shivaxiv.com
https://www.facebook.com/authorlyrashanti/
