DECEMBER

OCTOBER 2020

Charles Dickens
Adam Ells
H. P. Lovecraft
Julian Grant
Lucrezia Pei
Ornella Soncini

by Javier Cabrera

by Benjamin Davis
https://thefreebundle.com/
Fic�on podcasts done right.
https://thefreebundle.com/
 THE LINEUP ISSUE 3, VOL 1 - DECEMBER 2020
A Very Different Christmas 5
Editor: Javier Cabrera By The Editor
Art: Carlos Cabrera, Javier Cabrera
#THEFREEBUNDLE The Plague-Daemon 6
By H. P. Lovecraft

https://www.thefreebundle.com A Christmas Carol 11

By Charles Dickens

Black Mass 13
By Javier Cabrera

Copyright © 2020 Cabrera Brothers Publishing Notes of a Survivor 23

Published by The Free Bundle Magazine By Benjamin Davis

The following content is copyright © 2020 by its

respective authors: Herbert West, Reanimator Sif’s Folly 28
(The Plague-Daemon), by H. P. Lovecraft is in By Julian Grant
the public domain. Notes of a Survivor, by
Benjamin Davis. Sif ’s Folly, by Julian Grant.
Lizard’s Tail 33
Lizard’s Tail, by Lucrezia Pei and Ornella
By Lucrezia Pei and Ornella Soncini
Soncini. Abraham Van Helsing, Eradicator
(Black Mass), by Javier Cabrera. Some authors
requested to have their biography displayed. DOG Xmas Special 37
By Cabrera Brothers
All the other content not otherwise referenced
here is copyright © 2020 Free Bundle Magazine.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, Prince of Ashes 38
places, and incidents either are the product of By Adam Ells
the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously,
and any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, business establishments, events, or locales
is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not
have any control and does not assume any
reasonability for authors and their content. No
part of this publication may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in
any form or by any means without the prior
permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise
circulated in any form of binding or cover other
than that in which it is published.
 A Very Different Christmas
Other than the holiday festivities, there is little to celebrate this year with the plague’s
arrival. Do not worry, though. We are all about Christmas cheers here. To prove it, we
are publishing the children’s version of the highly celebrated A Christmas Carol,
written by no other than Mr. Charles Dickens, with original art from its first edition
in 1843.

Also, in this issue, we are including another one of our Abraham Van Helsing serials.
This particular one, titled “Black Mass”, features a very special guest, given the time
of the year, that is.

Benjamin Davis takes us to a (now) very possible future with “Notes of a Survivor”.
Adam Ells, share with us his fantastic “Price of Ashes”. Julian Grant, a producer,
writer, and director who you might know from the RoboCop: Prime Directives TV
Series, Sweet Leaf (2013) or The Doctor’s Wife (2011), honor us with a short story
based on a new original animation short “SiSif ’s Folly”. Lucrezia Pei and Ornella
Soncini are two gifted Italian writers making their English debut with “Lizard’s Tail”.

Finally, to celebrate this our first Christmas Special, we have a very special gift for
you: a Holiday run of our “Digital Trading Cards”! What are you waiting for? Go
open your present by clicking the link down below and enjoy—happy Holidays from
everyone at Free Bundle Magazine. See you next year!

SCAN ME
5
 HERBERT WEST----REANIMATOR

The Plague-Daemon By H. P. Lovecraft

This is the second story from the Herbert West--Reanimator series, first published under
the title of "Grewsome Tales" as a six part serial in Home Brew (Feb-Jul 1922).

I SHALL never forget that hideous summer

sixteen years ago, when like a noxious afrite
from the halls of Eblis typhoid stalked leer-
ingly through Arkham. It is by that satanic
scourge that most recall the year, for truly
terror brooded with bat-wings over the piles

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 FREE BUNDLE MAGAZINE

of coffins in the tombs of Christchurch known it was underground.

Cemetery; yet for me there is a greater After that experience West had
horror in that time—a horror known to dropped his researches for some time;
me alone now that Herbert West has but as the zeal of the born scientist
disappeared. slowly returned, he again became
importunate with the college faculty,
West and I were doing post-graduate
pleading for the use of the dissect-
work in summer classes at the medical ing-room and of fresh human speci-
school of Miskatonic University, and mens for the work he regarded as so
my friend had attained a wide notoriety overwhelmingly important. His pleas,
because of his experiments leading however, were wholly in vain; for the
toward the revivification of the dead. decision of Dr. Halsey was inflexible,
After the scientific slaughter of and the other professors all endorsed
uncounted small animals the freakish the verdict of their leader. In the radical
work had ostensibly stopped by order theory of reanimation they saw nothing
of our sceptical dean, Dr. Allan Halsey; but the immature vagaries of a youthful
though West had continued to perform enthusiast whose slight form, yellow
certain secret tests in his dingy board- hair, spectacled blue eyes, and soft voice
ing-house room, and had on one terri- gave no hint of the supernormal—al-
ble and unforgettable occasion taken a most diabolical—power of the cold
human body from its grave in the brain within. I can see him now as he
potter’s field to a deserted farmhouse was then—and I shiver. He grew stern-
beyond Meadow Hill. er of face, but never elderly. And now
I was with him on that odious occa- Sefton Asylum has had the mishap and
sion, and saw him inject into the still West has vanished.
veins the elixir which he thought would West clashed disagreeably with Dr.
to some extent restore life’s chemical Halsey near the end of our last under-
and physical processes. It had ended graduate term in a wordy dispute that
horribly—in a delirium of fear which did less credit to him than to the kindly
we gradually came to attribute to our dean in point of courtesy. He felt that
own overwrought nerves—and West he was needlessly and irrationally
had never afterward been able to shake retarded in a supremely great work; a
off a maddening sensation of being work which he could of course conduct
haunted and hunted. The body had not to suit himself in later years, but which
been quite fresh enough; it is obvious he wished to begin while still possessed
that to restore normal mental attributes of the exceptional facilities of the
a body must be very fresh indeed; and a university. That the tradition-bound
burning of the old house had prevented elders should ignore his singular results
us from burying the thing. It would on animals, and persist in their denial of
have been better if we could have the possibility of reanimation, was inex-

7
 THE PLAGUE-DAEMON

pressibly disgusting and almost incom- the numbers of the stricken grew. The
prehensible to a youth of West’s logical situation was almost past management,
temperament. Only greater maturity and deaths ensued too frequently for
could help him understand the chronic the local undertakers fully to handle.
mental limitations of the “profes- Burials without embalming were made
sor-doctor” type—the product of gen- in rapid succession, and even the
erations of pathetic Puritanism; kindly, Christchurch Cemetery receiving tomb
conscientious, and sometimes gentle was crammed with coffins of the
and amiable, yet always narrow, intoler- unembalmed dead. This circumstance
ant, custom-ridden, and lacking in was not without effect on West, who
perspective. Age has more charity for thought often of the irony of the situa-
these incomplete yet high-souled char- tion—so many fresh specimens, yet
acters, whose worst real vice is timidity, none for his persecuted researches! We
and who are ultimately punished by were frightfully overworked, and the
general ridicule for their intellectual terrific mental and nervous strain made
sins—sins like Ptolemaism, Calvinism, my friend brood morbidly.
anti-Darwinism, anti-Nietzscheism, and But West’s gentle enemies were no less
every sort of Sabbatarianism and sump- harassed with prostrating duties. Col-
tuary legislation. West, young despite lege had all but closed, and every doctor
his marvellous scientific acquirements, of the medical faculty was helping to
had scant patience with good Dr. fight the typhoid plague. Dr. Halsey in
Halsey and his erudite colleagues; and particular had distinguished himself in
nursed an increasing resentment, cou- sacrificing service, applying his extreme
pled with a desire to prove his theories skill with whole-hearted energy to cases
to these obtuse worthies in some strik- which many others shunned because of
ing and dramatic fashion. Like most danger or apparent hopelessness.
youths, he indulged in elaborate Before a month was over the fearless
day-dreams of revenge, triumph, and dean had become a popular hero,
final magnanimous forgiveness. though he seemed unconscious of his
And then had come the scourge, grin- fame as he struggled to keep from
ning and lethal, from the nightmare collapsing with physical fatigue and
caverns of Tartarus. West and I had nervous exhaustion. West could not
graduated about the time of its begin- withhold admiration for the fortitude
ning, but had remained for additional of his foe, but because of this was even
work at the summer school, so that we more determined to prove to him the
were in Arkham when it broke with full truth of his amazing doctrines. Taking
daemoniac fury upon the town. advantage of the disorganisation of
Though not as yet licenced physicians, both college work and municipal health
we now had our degrees, and were regulations, he managed to get a recent-
pressed frantically into public service as ly deceased body smuggled into the

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 FREE BUNDLE MAGAZINE

university dissecting-room one night, Apparently this acidulous matron was

and in my presence injected a new mod- right; for about 3 a.m. the whole house
ification of his solution. The thing actu- was aroused by cries coming from
ally opened its eyes, but only stared at West’s room, where when they broke
the ceiling with a look of soul-petrify- down the door they found the two of
ing horror before collapsing into an us unconscious on the blood-stained
inertness from which nothing could carpet, beaten, scratched, and mauled,
rouse it. West said it was not fresh and with the broken remnants of West’s
enough—the hot summer air does not bottles and instruments around us.
favour corpses. That time we were Only an open window told what had
almost caught before we incinerated the become of our assailant, and many
thing, and West doubted the advisability wondered how he himself had fared
of repeating his daring misuse of the after the terrific leap from the second
college laboratory. story to the lawn which he must have
The peak of the epidemic was reached made. There were some strange
in August. West and I were almost dead, garments in the room, but West upon
and Dr. Halsey did die on the 14th. The regaining consciousness said they did
students all attended the hasty funeral not belong to the stranger, but were
on the 15th, and bought an impressive specimens collected for bacteriological
wreath, though the latter was quite analysis in the course of investigations
overshadowed by the tributes sent by on the transmission of germ diseases.
wealthy Arkham citizens and by the He ordered them burnt as soon as pos-
municipality itself. It was almost a sible in the capacious fireplace. To the
public affair, for the dean had surely police we both declared ignorance of
been a public benefactor. After the our late companion’s identity. He was,
entombment we were all somewhat West nervously said, a congenial strang-
depressed, and spent the afternoon at er whom we had met at some down-
the bar of the Commercial House; town bar of uncertain location. We had
where West, though shaken by the all been rather jovial, and West and I did
death of his chief opponent, chilled the not wish to have our pugnacious com-
rest of us with references to his notori- panion hunted down.
ous theories. Most of the students went That same night saw the beginning of
home, or to various duties, as the the second Arkham horror—the horror
evening advanced; but West persuaded that to me eclipsed the plague itself.
me to aid him in “making a night of it”. Christchurch Cemetery was the scene
West’s landlady saw us arrive at his of a terrible killing; a watchman having
room about two in the morning, with a been clawed to death in a manner not
third man between us; and told her hus- only too hideous for description, but
band that we had all evidently dined and raising a doubt as to the human agency
wined rather well. of the deed. The victim had been seen

9
 THE PLAGUE-DAEMON

alive considerably after midnight—the

In the future, ID Cards are more stations,
thanandwhatwhentheysomeone
seem...in the
dawn revealed the unutterable thing. college district had reported hearing a
The manager of a circus at the neigh- scratching at a shuttered window, the
bouring town of Bolton was ques- net was quickly spread. On account of
tioned, but he swore that no beast had the general alarm and precautions, there
at any time escaped from its cage. were only two more victims, and the
Those who found the body noted a trail capture was effected without major
of blood leading to the receiving tomb, casualties. The thingbywas Eva finally
Schultz stopped
where a small pool of red lay on the by a bullet, though not a fatal one, and
Eva Schultz lives in Aurora, Illinois, where she is a business writer by day and a fiction writer by
concrete just outside the gate. A fainter was rushed to the local hospital amidst
night. Her work has appeared in Blind Corner Literary, All Worlds Wayfarer, and Writer’s Digest. She
trail led away toward the woods, but it universal excitement and loathing.
lives with a big orange cat named Gus and enjoys drawing, painting, and collecting typewriters.
soon gave out. For it had been a man. This much was
The next night devils danced on the clear despite the nauseous eyes, the
https://facebook.com/EvaSchultzCreative.
roofs of Arkham, and unnatural mad- voiceless simianism, and the daemoniac
ness howled in the wind. Through the savagery. They dressed its wound and
fevered town had crept a curse which carted it to the asylum at Sefton, where
some said was greater than the plague, it beat its head against the walls of a
and which some whispered was the padded cell for sixteen years—until the
embodied daemon-soul of the plague recent mishap, when it escaped under
itself. Eight houses were entered by a circumstances that few like to mention.
nameless thing which strewed red death What had most disgusted the searchers
in its wake—in all, seventeen maimed of Arkham was the thing they noticed
and shapeless remnants of bodies were when the monster’s face was
left behind by the voiceless, sadistic cleaned—the mocking, unbelievable
monster that crept abroad. A few resemblance to a learned and self-sacri-
persons had half seen it in the dark, and ficing martyr who had been entombed
said it was white and like a malformed but three days before—the late Dr.
ape or anthropomorphic fiend. It had Allan Halsey, public benefactor and
not left behind quite all that it had dean of the medical school of Miska-
attacked, for sometimes it had been tonic University.
hungry. The number it had killed was To the vanished Herbert West and to
fourteen; three of the bodies had been me the disgust and horror were
in stricken homes and had not been supreme. I shudder tonight as I think of
alive. it; shudder even more than I did that
On the third night frantic bands of morning when West muttered through
searchers, led by the police, captured it his bandages,
in a house on Crane Street near the “Damn it, it wasn’t quite fresh
Miskatonic campus. They had organ- enough!”
ised the quest with care, keeping in
touch by means of volunteer telephone

10
 FREE BUNDLE MAGAZINE

MASTER Peter, and the two ubiqui- slowly all along the carving-knife,
tous young Cratchits went to fetch the prepared to plunge it in the breast; but
goose, with which they soon returned when she did, and when the long
in high procession. expected gush of stuffing issued forth,
Such a bustle ensued that you might one murmur of delight arose all round
have thought a goose the rarest of all the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited
birds; a feathered phenomenon, to by the two young Cratchits, beat on the
which a black swan was a matter of table with the handle of his knife, and
course—and in truth it was something feebly cried Hurrah!
very like it in that house. Mrs. Cratchit There never was such a goose. Bob
made the gravy (ready beforehand in a said he didn't believe there ever was
little saucepan) hissing hot; Master such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and
Peter mashed the potatoes with incredi- flavour, size and cheapness, were the
ble vigour; Miss Belinda sweetened up themes of universal admiration. Eked
the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot out by the apple-sauce and mashed
plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for
in a tiny corner at the table; the two the whole family; indeed, as Mrs.
young Cratchits set chairs for every- Cratchit said with great delight (survey-
body, not forgetting themselves, and ing one small atom of a bone upon the
mounting guard upon their posts, dish), they hadn't ate it all at last! Yet
crammed spoons into their mouths, lest every one had had enough, and the
they should shriek for goose before youngest Cratchits in particular, were
their turn came to be helped. steeped in sage and onion to the
At last the dishes were set on, and grace eyebrows! But now, the plates being
was said. It was succeeded by a breath- changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit
less pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking left the room alone—too nervous to

11
 A CHRISTMAS CAROL

bear witnesses—to take the pudding up jug being tasted, and considered
and bring it in. perfect, apples and oranges were put
Suppose it should not be done upon the table, and a shovel-full of
enough! Suppose it should break in chestnuts on the fire. Then all the
turning out. Suppose somebody should Cratchit family drew round the hearth,
have got over the wall of the back-yard in what Bob Cratchit called a circle,
and stolen it, while they were merry meaning half a one; and at Bob
with the goose—a supposition at which Cratchit's elbow stood the family
the two young Cratchits became livid! display of glasses. Two tumblers, and a
All sorts of horrors were supposed. custard-cup without a handle.
Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pud- These held the hot stuff from the jug,
ding was out of the copper. A smell like however, as well as golden goblets
a washing-day! That was the cloth. A would have done; and Bob served it out
smell like an eating-house and a pastry- with beaming looks, while the chestnuts
cook's next door to each other, with a on the fire sputtered and cracked noisi-
laundress's next door to that! That was ly. Then Bob proposed:
the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. "A Merry Christmas to us all, my
Cratchit entered—flushed, but smiling dears. God bless us!"
proudly—with the pudding, like a Which all the family re-echoed.
speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, "God bless us every one!" said Tiny
blazing in half of half-a-quartern of Tim, the last of all.
ignited brandy, and bedight with Christ-
mas holly stuck into the top.
Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob
Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he
regarded it as the greatest success
achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since their
marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that now
the weight was off her mind, she would
confess she had had her doubts about
the quantity of flour. Everybody had
something to say about it, but nobody
said or thought it was at all a small pud-
ding for a large family. It would have
been flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit
would have blushed to hint at such a
thing.
At last the dinner was all done, the
cloth was cleared, the hearth swept, and
the fire made up. The compound in the

12
 ABRAHAM VAN HELSING---ERADICATOR

by Javier Cabrera
Javier Cabrera is a novelist, short story writer, essayist and screenwriter working in a variety of
genres including horror, science fiction, fantasy, and mystery. He is also the co-founder and the
active CEO of Cabrera Brothers, a media and entertainment company and the editor of the Free
Bundle Magazine, a modern-day Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine.

https://javiercabrerabooks.com

THE STAGE was darkness itself who was standing there, madness
embodied. The glittering lights from filled the auditorium. They were
countless phone screens were fool- screaming. Screeching. Clenching
ishly trying to pierce the shadows to their teeth in obscene hunger. Wildly
capture a glimpse of what was howling in the dark like coyotes. He
behind the velvet curtain. would not look at them. His back was
The spotlight gradually illuminated all he offered them. They didn’t
the center of the stage, as if it was a deserve him, not yet. As if all their
metaphor of creation itself. Before moaning, screeching, and hysteria
anyone could make out the shape of were not enough for him to acknowl
13
 BLACK MASS

edge their existence. As silently as he possibly could, Abra-

Then, at the highest point of the abys- ham removed the upper part of his
mal crescendo, when insanity turned flashlight and switched it to
into rabid dementia, he breathed into candle-mode but quickly regretted
the microphone, just once, so they doing so. The lifeless body of the young
knew he was there, that he was real, and woman he had been tracking for the last
that he belonged entirely to them; body two months was the first thing he saw.
and soul. She was lying naked over an improvised
It was also the whisper of a prom- altar on the floor made out of card-
ise—his promise. They were about to board boxes and italian newspapers.
share a pleasure beyond boundaries Her legs were spread open, and horror
with hundreds of others for one night had been permanently chiseled itself on
and only one night. A night that neither her face.
their boyfriends nor husbands would be Despite the place being overwhelm-
able to match. Ever. Only him, there ingly infested with flies, none were rest-
and then. ing over her young, rosy skin. They
He started to sing. His voice was April were surrounding the outline of the
wind. It was the voice of morning, of corpse as if they were chalk on a crime
all mornings, and it was also all the scene.
dusks in their lives. It was the voice of Covering his mouth and nose with a
an angel, and it sent waves of lust handkerchief, Abraham leaned over the
across the sea of willing women who corpse for close examination. Blood
twisted in ecstasy while chanting his still poured out from the poor thing,
name. His song echoed across the Basil- but it did not mix with the sewers’ oily
ica. The murals of the old Roman putrid waters. It was as if not even filth
church had seen devotees, but never wanted anything to do with her. Abra-
true devotion. ham took out a pair of tweezers from
At that exact moment, underneath the his coat inner pocket and lifted the
stage and lost in the interminable maze placenta from within the woman’s legs.
of tunnels, a woman gave birth for the It was of a greenish hue, and it dried to
first time. a thin crust almost instantly when he
fished it out of the water—a dark omen
Abraham Van Helsing stood in the a man with his vast knowledge in the
middle of a massacre. It was dark, and occult picked up right away.
the fetid emanations in that section of Underneath her corpse, there were
the sewerage turned things blurry, but patterns and symbols he chose not to
the sounds his shoes were making as he stare at for too long; they were as dark
made his way there were too familiar to and unholy as the place she and the rest
him. It was the sound of the flesh of of the cultists had found death. What-
men being squashed under his soles. ever was that went wrong with what

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 FREE BUNDLE MAGAZINE

they were trying to summon, it hadn’t covered the box’s interior, Abraham
been long; blood and torn pieces of took only a small folding camera of rare
flesh were still dripping from the brick German design. The antiquity belonged
walls. The ceiling was low in that part to a physiologist called Wilhelm Kühne,
of the sewerage, and the Dutchman whom in 1880 had successfully man-
was tall and corpulent, so he had to aged to obtain the last image a man
walk somewhat hunched to explore the named Gustav Reif saw before he was
rest of the junction. executed by guillotine for the murder of
There had been a small crowd gather- his children.
ing in there of no more than twenty The method Kühne developed,
cultists. Some of them had been indulg- known as optography, had been largely
ing themselves in lustful acts of carnal ridiculed by modern forensic science
madness. Others, he deducted, had for its closeness to the realm of the
found death while they read and chant- supranatural. Though more an art than
ed from dark scrolls which pages still a science, the process of obtaining the
burned in their crisped fingers. last recorded image from a corpse
Despite the somberness of the scene, retina, is of such difficulty that only a
Abraham was shocked to discover the few men are capable of successfully
area surrounding the woman began to dominating its complex intricacies. One
smell quite pleasantly. In fact, he began of those men was Abraham Van Hels-
to sense the scent of roses. There was ing.
no doubt in his mind now; something From the same compartment where
unholy had been born there. the camera was stored, Abraham
The womb of the young woman had produced two metallic trays of only a
been used as a conduit, a doorway few inches of depth and placed them
between worlds. In a way, she had been next to the other on a leveled spot on
spared of the horror; her body was the the floor.
only one not torn to shreds by whatever He then poured a thin layer of a
was she brought to life. The others were purplish substance from one of the
not so lucky; the scratches on the walls many flasks that were crammed inside
were a testament to their gruesome end. the wooden chest in one of the trays,
Aided by his flashlight, Abraham put on latex gloves, took out a dispos-
found a dry spot to put down his apoth- able scalpel, and got to work.
ecary’s toolbox. He opened the old He began by carefully removing the
cedar box, revealing numerous shelves, eyes from those corpses whose heads
drawers, and sliding compartments, had not been crushed and placed them
each containing an invaluable collection on the empty tray. Next, he tried to find
of reliquaries, herbs, and other of the remaining eyes by meticulously
esoteric and religious nature. going through the hunks and chunks of
From one of the many drawers that meat scattered everywhere. In total, he

15
 BLACK MASS

was able to salvage the eyes of eleven so the last image their eyes saw was of
cultists and the girl. The rest was either either their own feet while trying to
too damaged or lost in the nauseating escape or the tunnels they were heading
waters of the sewerage. towards. But two saw what happened,
After retrieving the eyes and thor- clear as day.
oughly soaking them for a few One was the woman; she had kept her
moments in the purplish substance, eyes open the entire time. The other
Abraham grabbed the scalpel and was an older man. He had been buried
began to slice. Even though the place by corpses of the other cultists, and it
he was in was foul to the senses, and the appears as if he had lived long enough
lighting was limited only to his flash- to see the whole sequence of events,
light, the pulse of the Dutchman’s hand though Abraham only recovered the
could be matched only by his excellent last image he saw. Whatever was the
use of the scalpel. His cuts were as horror she had given birth to, someone
clean as of a sushi master. had wrapped it in a blanket and took it
Over the years, the “Kühne camera” away while the slaughter happened.
had been modified and even improved
by different scholars of his work. The
latest alteration had been done by a Christmas Eve. The bearded man in
team of Italian morticians, the Ferrari the spotless red suit was wrapping up
brothers. It included a small battery-op- the night when he noticed something
erated ultra-violet flash that, when shot, odd about the house he had just got
sent a light beam through the camera into. It was the last one he was sup-
bellows to the lens’s inner part. Between posed to be visiting before the long
the bellows and the lens, the brothers trip back to his workshop; the William-
added a removable disc-shaped mem- ses. But the house he was now stand-
branous filter made of a thin film of ing in was not the same one he was
cellulose acetate. Inside the filter, Abra- used to visiting every year. Even more
ham would place a thick slice of the alarming, it was not the same house he
eyeball from one of the corpses, had seen from the outside.
switched his flashlight off, took a photo Somehow, when he came down the
from the iris, and repeat the entire chimney, the entire room had changed.
process for the next corpse. The walls were not where they were
In total, it took him nearly half an supposed to be. The beautiful and
hour to have a picture from the iris of broad bifurcated staircase with the
each one of the deceased and another hand-knotted runner and the brass
half an hour to reveal the entire film, decorations were no longer there
but once he had the photographs, Abra- either. In its place, there was a straight,
ham shuddered. Most of the cultists rather ugly looking staircase. It was
had looked away when death showed, ordinary and had been put together

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 FREE BUNDLE MAGAZINE

with cheap wooden boards that barely not to. This time he opened his enor-
held together. The place stank to mold, mous velvet bag and stuck his hand
not to cookies—something he some- inside with malice in his eyes, for even
how doubted Ms. Williams and her when the bag was supposed to be
daughter Jenny would hardly allow on empty (or almost empty, depending on
that night. There were dust and cob- how Timothy and little Jenny Williams
webs everywhere he looked, and the behaved during the year), the man in
twelve-foot Regina Pina tree was, the red suit always made sure to keep
surprisingly, nowhere to be seen. something extra with him, just in case.
There was simply no life in there, no A very special item he kept only for
home-warmth. It was as cold and himself, stashed in one of the bag’s
lifeless as the inside of a mausoleum. inner pockets: an iron sledgehammer
He failed to notice it right away, but with the legend “Naughty Boy” burnt
there were a series of strange hiero- on its thick wooden handle. In the most
glyphs carved on the floor where Mr. absolute of the silences, the man in the
Williams’ great grand father’s rug red suit pulled out his iron sledgeham-
should have been. Some of the sym- mer, spat out his cigar, and took posi-
bols were alien to him, others he tion near the bottom of the staircase.
remembered from the forgotten days Had it been any other man, the sledge-
when men feasted in honor of their hammer would have gone right through
pagan deities. his head, but Abraham Van Helsing
Baffled, the man in the red suit skipped a step at the exact moment the
turned around to check the fireplace he red suit man was swinging with all his
came through, but all he found was an might and death only but whistled past
ash-pit. The thought came down onto him.
him like a slap to the face; he was not Before he could stand to defend him-
in the Williamses living room; he was self, though, or even attempt to talk to
in their basement. the man wielding the sledgehammer,
It was dark, but he was used to the death came whistling once more. This
shadows; nights last for a long time time, if Abraham had not used his
from where he comes from. Hurried apothecary box to deflect the blow, his
footsteps on a carpet somewhere above head would have been turned into a
him woke him out of his stupor. The pulp of flesh stuck to the floor.
beam of a flashlight bounced on the “Sinterklaas, stop!” Abraham said.
staircase, the old wooden boards The red suit man was just about to start
creaked loudly; someone was coming balancing the deadly weapon again
downstairs. when he recognized the man hiding
Unlike all the other times he had to behind the wooden box.
hide to avoid being seen, this time “Helsing?” the man said. Not many
around, the man in the red suit chose knew his real name, nor could

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 BLACK MASS

pronounce it in perfect Dutch. He was Abraham barely noticed the man was
about to start lowering his sledgeham- swinging again and moved only by
mer but changed his mind and threw reflex. The floor exploded under the
another blow. The short moment the fierce strength of the sledgehammer as
red suit man stopped his attack won if a grenade had gone off.
Abraham a split second, enough to “Look at the time,” The man said, as
move out of the way. He ended up he unstuck his sledgehammer from the
rolling on the floor hugged to his floor, “look at the goddamn time! What
apothecary box until his back hit a wall. the hell you were thinking!”
“I should have known it was you!” the “I told you; it was not me,” Abraham
man said, “You were warned not to said, but his words came out as a cough
mess with my schedule again.” while he tried to caught his breath.
“It was not me,” Abraham said, using “Five freaking minutes, Helsing. Five.”
the wall to pull himself to his feet, “I The man in the red suit held five thick
had nothing to do with it this time.” fingers so Abraham could count them.
The red suit man swung the sledge- “That pisses me off. It messes with my
hammer over his head heavily. When he schedule. It does. This is a tight opera-
struck, his blow tore down nearly the tion I run here, a tight operation. You
entire wall behind Abraham, who only have to account for the wind velocity,
had time to clumsily drop himself the distance between the houses, the
down to the floor to avoid getting airline routes, the time it takes for each
crushed like a fly. It was at that instant kid to get into REM sleep, so they don’t
that the man in the red suit noticed the wake up and see me do my thing—lots
Dutchman was wounded; something of maths, lots of variables. Thanks to
sharp had cut deep into the side of his global warming, nights are shorter and
ribs. Something with claws. shorter each year, did you know that?”
“Wait a minute,” The man said, “You “I had no idea,” Abraham said.
leaking, Helsing.” “It’s true. The old formulas don’t
Abraham coughed badly. “ apply anymore; we have to come up
“You shouldn’t have brought me with with new ones every goddamn year. I
a wound like that. You’re making it too don’t even get to use the bathroom
easy for me.” anymore; I use a rubber diaper. I do.
“It was not me,” Abraham said, “I did Can’t waste thirty seconds to take a leak
not conjure you here.” nowadays, or it’s a catastrophe. Before, I
The man in the red suit pointed his even had time to eat milk and cookies.
thick finger at the symbols on the floor. Now I wear diapers. But you don’t care
“What about this then, uh? I suppose all about any of that, do you?”
this pagan mumbo-jumbo was already “To be honest, no, I do not.”
here before you came, right?” He couldn’t lie. It was worse if he did,
“No, those are mine.” although, at that moment, Abraham

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realized that anything he could have mer; the man wasn’t kidding.
said would have been actually better “I have been following this cultist for
than saying something like that. Perhaps the past three days,” Abraham began,
even a lie. but a bad cough interrupted him, and
The man’s left eye twitched. he had to stop. The wound was worse
“I should not have said that,” Abra- than the red suit man had initially
ham said, trying to hold his guts inside thought. Luckily to Abraham, the man
him, “You have my sincerest apolo- had the reputation of being kind-heart-
gies.” ed and decided to wait until Abraham
“One doesn’t mess with the sched- had finished coughing, then said, “Quit
ule!” The red suit man said. His voice stalling, Helsing, or I will squash your
was thunder. Deep, rough, the voice of damn head against the wall.”
a man who commanded an entire legion “This man,” Abraham continued, “he
of one of the most dangerous and was part of a black mass.”
cruelest supernatural beings in exis- “They always are.”
tence. Beings capable of overthrowing “We are not talking about one of
entire nations in a matter of hours. those high-class gatherings here; this is
Beings he slaves into making toys. different.”
“I understand,” Abraham said, “but it “Different how.”
was not me.” “It was not in some fancy country
“Then what is all this sorcery for?” house; this happened on the sewers,
“I needed to improvise a cage.” underneath the Basilica di San Ignazio.
The man in the red suit’s eyes wid- They were summoning something.”
ened. The man in the red suit laughed a little.
“Put the hammer down,” Abraham “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got? They
said, “I will explain it to you.” were summoning something, so what?
“All right,” the man said, “everyone Big deal, it never works.”
gets a chance. This is yours. Talk.” “This time did.”
Abraham tried to stand, but his legs The man wasn’t laughing anymore. “I
gave in, and he let himself fall down told you before, I don’t like lies.”
onto the cold floor again. “Just me a “It is not a lie. This was not just any
moment; I need to catch my breath black mass; it was a Ceremonial. The
here.” cultists had this pregnant woman,
“You know how I feel about lies, Hels- she—” Abraham stopped. At that very
ing,” the man in the red suit said, “right moment, he realized what the man in
now, you have me doubting, but that’s the red suit was doing there. The cultist
all you have, so you better start talking who ran away must have known that the
before I stop doubting and make up my only one capable of making sure the
mind.” newborn was kept from men like Abra-
Abraham looked at the sledgeham ham would have to be one whose

19
 BLACK MASS

higher command demanded the care awoken something that shouldn’t have
and protection of the lives of all chil- been disturbed and was now futilely
dren, regardless of what there was in hoping it would go back to sleep again.
their hearts. He did not wait to check; he threw him-
“Well?” The man in the red suit said, self at the ash dump door as fast as his
“What about the woman?” wounds allowed him to.
Abraham chose not to continue. With Before Abraham closed the door,
any other man, he could have appealed though, the man in the red suit saw
to reason, to logic, even half-truths if it something that tried to squeeze itself
was necessary. But ultimately, it would out. Something that was neither human
not matter. Not with him. Sometimes nor beast. A shadow. A slice of all that
silence is better than a lie. is filth, corrupt, and putrid. It was there,
The man in the red suit lifted the inside the chimney’s ash dump, and
heavy sledgehammer and let it rest on began to fight Abraham, pushing itself
his shoulder, the way a lumberjack against the metal door and trying to
would with his ax, “Well, you are not open it.
really giving me much to go on here, That instant was all he saw, and that
buddy.” instant was all his mind allowed him to
A feeble sound came from within the discern to keep him from falling into
chimney’s ash dump, a spectral echo of absolute insanity.
a thing that desperately tried to convey “You are not the only one who is out
something akin to a beg. It was a crying, of time, Sinterklass.” Abraham said as
a very faint cry, almost whisper-like, and he used the entire weight of his body to
it chilled the air of the already cold keep the door closed while putting on
abandoned house the instant it was the lock, “If this thing gets out, it will
heard. feed itself.”
Both men felt a nerve-shattering “What will happen if it does?”
perturbation of immeasurable repug- “You will have plenty of time for
nance, as there was a distinctively cookies and milk next year.”
bizarre feature to the sound; it was The pushing stopped. A moment
mimicking the voice of a small child. later, something moved upstairs. There
“I suppose you did not see anything was a sound. This time it was not a cry,
on your way down,” Abraham said. but more of a moan, slow, macabre. A
“Something like what?” sob that lingered on the air and wrecked
The cry echoed again. the nerves of both men, becoming
Abraham nodded towards the ash louder with each moment that went by,
dump door. until finally, at the point where it
“This is not the Williamses, isn’t it?” seemed to become almost unbearable, it
Abraham shook his head, slowly, as if stopped.
he suspected that the commotion had From that moment on, no more

20
 FREE BUNDLE MAGAZINE

words were necessary. Having faced waited.

countless times the unspeakable From within the immutable darkness
horrors that plague and terrorize the of the fireplace, something repugnant
souls of men, Abraham and the man in began to crawl. Something that already
the red suit knew precisely how to walked the earth when the ancestors of
proceed. They cut through the dark and men had barely started to venture
rushed up the stairs as quietly as they outside the primordial waters. It some-
could. how found its way across the chasms of
Upstairs, in the small living room, the time and cosmos and was there, in the
man in the red suit found less life than living room, feeling the cold bricks of
in the basement. Abraham saw it took the chimney like a blind man feels the
the man only a few moments to recog- walls when entering a room for the first
nize the house they were in. Once he time. As if the gloomy darkness of the
did, a tear rolled down his left cheek. fireplace was too bright for it to open
The dried-up tree on the floor, the its eyes and needed total blackness to
broken decorations, the red stockings see.
still hanging from a chimney that had To say that what Abraham and the
not seen warmth in years; for the man man in the red suit experienced upon
in the red suit, it was all as bitterly cold seeing the fingers of that deform,
as the deepest caverns of the north repulsive limb clumsily dragging them-
pole. selves over the chimney wall shattered
Abraham went to the furthest corner every sense of sanity from their minds
and began opening his apothecary box. would be to phrase what happened to
From the many bottles in its interior, he them too lightly. The mere sight of that
chose the one containing a blend of pallid, gruesome hide the thing had for
meticulously prepared herbs a group of skin almost dragged them into uncon-
excommunicated Benedictine monks sciousness.
grew for his exclusive use. Next, from The man in the red suit was about to
one of the drawers, he took small pieces swing his sledgehammer when the bony
of bark from a tree that only has its arm began to contort itself back into
roots in South Africa’s coastal grass- the chimney’s shaft. A moment later, a
lands’ underground forest. leg fell. It bounced horribly on the
After disinfecting his hands and grate, raising a thick cloud of ashes.
squashing the herbs together inside a When the ashes dissipated, both men
bandage, Abraham chewed off a chunk noticed that something had chewed the
of the bark and spat out its juice onto meat off the leg—something with teeth
the wound. While he finished wrapping too large and irregular to belong to
his ribs with the strange compress, the animal or beast known by any of them.
man in the red suit, sledgehammer in Abraham shuddered. The leg had
hand, tiptoed until the fireplace and been mercilessly torn apart from some

21
 BLACK MASS

one’s body with such inhumane hammer and the wreckage on the
strength that shreds of the victim’s floor.
torso still hanged from it. Nobody else The dust cleared. Whatever was the
was in the house before the man in the thing Abraham and the red suit man
red suit arrived but him, the newborn, were seeing writhe in agony on the
and the cultist. floor, it was feeling fear for the first
It had fed. time in its existence. It was shaking,
Something moved inside the chimney contorting itself with the pains of
flue. Something large enough to push death. It was aberrant. Perverted. A
itself against the wall and deform it as nauseous representation of life. It was
if it had been made out of paper. Abra- also a child, or what could have been a
ham signaled the man in the red suit it child. As darkness wrapped itself
was time to leave; the Dutchman’s origi- around it, the bright green of its eyes,
nal plan to entrap whatever was lurking of all its eyes, faded slowly into a milky
behind the wall in the basement ash blue. Its mouth stayed perpetually open
dump would not work anymore. in a silently scream of horror at the
As the thing moved, the eyes of the sight of the man who had snatched life
man in the red suit went wild. He, of all away from it so harshly.
people, could not allow a travesty like The thing moaned once, then died. It
that to happen. It was he who killed the had the eyes of its mother.
creature. Blow after blow, explosion Nothing Abraham could have said or
after explosion until the entire fireplace done could have lighted the burden for
came down along with most of the wall. the man in the red suit, so he kept silent.
Amidst the smoke, amidst the broken He watched him drop his sledgeham-
bricks of the fireplace that shoot away mer and fell to his knees, biting his own
like bullets, the man in the red suit kept lip until a thin line of blood drew over
swinging his hammer. Righteously. his long white beard. The man in the
Impartially. Without any emotion red suit knew he had not been lied to,
invested into the task, but with the that what had to happen, happened,
fierceness of an avenging angel. and that the thing in the chimney was
The hammer kept coming down over better off dead, crushed on the floor
and over until it finally hit something. than doing God knows what among
Something desperately trying to crawl men.
away between the angles of the walls. Still, he cried his heart out.
Something akin to a centipede. Some- The last thing Abraham saw before
thing that could have walked up straight walking out of the house was the man
if it wanted to, but that still hadn’t in the red suit sinking his face between
learned how to. Something that couldn’t his hands and murmuring, “Peace on
find a clear path between the thunder- earth…”
ous blows of the red suit man’s sledge

22
 FREE BUNDLE MAGAZINE

Notes of a
Survivor By Benjamin Davis

Benjamin Davis is a former reviewer turned engineer. He used to write for TopTenReviews,
reviewing products and writing reviews. After doing that for a few years, he decided to try
engineering and currently works as a software engineer.

More about Benjamin here

I DON’T KNOW how long I’ll have And within a minute of being bitten or
before I’m found, so I’ve grabbed the scratched by a zombie, people will die
only paper I could find and decided to and become one of the first two types.
write as much as I could before I am Types! There are three of them.
discovered. I may be the only one who The first type are the Shamblers, or
knows that there are three types of the obviously dead. When all this start-
undead creatures. You might as well call ed, we called them zombies because
all of them zombies, since they all want they looked and acted like the tradition-
the same thing: the flesh of the living. al groaning creatures from movies.
They might as well be zombies for Their skin is actively decaying and
another couple of reasons. From what I falling off their frames. They are caked
can tell, they are all dead. Despite being in dirt, blood, and shit. Living people
dead, they are all mobile and desperate are naturally repulsed by them, and in
to find living beings to capture and eat. small numbers, they are usually easy to

23
 NOTES OF A SURVIVOR

take out or escape. The problem comes down this neighborhood to find me,
from their ability to draw other zom- killing others who are hiding nearby. At
bies to them. I don’t know what they least, I act like the other houses have
use to call for help, but if one Shambler living people in them. It wouldn’t be
sees you, you better start moving fair to risk their lives just to pop the top
because more are on the way. of a Type Two.
Next, the Scouts are newly dead Most people I’ve run into have only
humans who can hide their bites or dealt with these two types, but I’ve had
scratches. They look like living people, the unfortunate experience of discover-
and they try to gain the trust of others. ing a third type. It was bad enough to
I have seen Scouts kill several Sham- know that there was an infestation, so
blers as they feign a retreat, and I have few people wanted to get to the bottom
seen many communities of living of it. I’m just not that kind of person,
people fall to an infestation after rescu- though. I don’t believe anything is
ing a hidden Scout. Scouts seem to be random. Consequences may seem
able to speak, but they do it infrequent- random, but there was some action to
ly. Their mission is to infiltrate and cause the results.
expose survivors, and when their I made it my mission to figure things
bodies have decayed, they become out while the problem was still small,
Shamblers, slow and purposeful like the still contained to my town. At least,
other Type One zombies. Usually, Type while I thought it was a local phenome-
Two zombies are most dangerous for non.
the week or two that they can deceive When the infestation started, the
humans, so they have to make it count. first thing we lost was communication:
In fact, I heard someone crying no TV, no radio, no cellular. Every
outside and peaked out my attic tower and antenna in and around the
window to see a child slowly walking up township was toppled. At first, we
the street. About twenty feet behind thought these creatures were just
him, a group of Shamblers were keep- Luddites. There were some who
ing their distance, ready to speed up if thought it was a coordinated attack,
anyone was lured to the trap. If I hadn’t and in a couple of days, I started to
been surviving this infestation for a few think the same. In the first week, we
months, I would have rushed out to lost emergency services, and hospi-
help the kid, only to have my front tals became a breeding ground for
door unlocked in the night. You can’t more zombies, usually Shamblers.
take risks. If you shoot a Scout in the People gathered in public spaces,
street, you give yourself away. Zombies hoping to find safety: grocery stores,
aren’t smart, but they aren’t so dumb community centers, schools, and
they can’t figure out that bullets don’t libraries were popular spots for
magically appear. They would have torn people seeking refuge. Then, the

24
 FREE BUNDLE MAGAZINE

Scouts started appearing. been completely decommissioned, or

I lived a block away from a school, the city’s municipal building.
and while I often visited to gather I’ll be brief about my methods, as I
supplies and help with repairs, I never promised to reveal the third type. The
wanted to be around so many people. I cemetery was across from a water
was there the night they fell, though. tower. Around three in the morning, I
We saw a beautiful young woman, climbed the tower and set up a small
running away from six or seven Sham- covering against its elevated side. It
blers. She screamed and kept her wasn’t perfect, but at the time, I still
distance from the creatures, but we believed little intelligence drove these
knew she couldn’t hold out much creatures. Fortune smiled on me, and I
longer. Someone said we had to let her survived the night. I could see many
in, and we tore away the barricade at open graves. Clearly, there were actual
the front door. We had guns, so we shot dead that had climbed to the surface
the Shamblers and let her in. I didn’t and started their invasion, but nothing
feel like going home after all the noise suggested this was a return location.
we made. I burned the bodies and kept Next, I made my way downtown and
watch at the front. got into one of the bars I knew still had
After a few hours, I heard the its tunnels. I learned then that the
screams. I later learned that the young curses of the living still haunt the dead,
woman we rescued scratched a few of as the Shamblers and Scouts in here
the guards near a fire exit and opened were far more interested in drinking
the door to a small hoard of Shamblers than in attacking me. I slipped in unno-
waiting quietly for their opportunity. I ticed and got into the basement without
got out as quick as I could and took a entering the bar proper.
circuitous route back to my home. The tunnel walls had been destroyed,
Someone either had a brilliant idea or a the half-century-old cement and brick-
happy accident because in minutes, the work scattered in all directions. I had
school was blazing, and a few nearby night-vision goggles, so I was able to
buildings caught with it. navigate without generating much light
That’s how I knew they were strate- or noise. The tunnels moved for miles
gizing. These weren’t your TV-grade in all directions, but the further out I
zombies, moving mindlessly towards went, the fewer walls had been torn
their next meal. These were soldiers, down. It seemed that the tunnels were
planning attacks on their enemy. I mostly used when the invasion lacked
started asking any survivors I could the soldiers to mount a true offense.
find about their first memories with the They climbed into the bars and restau-
infestation, and eventually, I narrowed rants throughout the city, taking people
their “headquarters” to a cemetery, a by surprise and recruiting more to their
set of old-town tunnels that hadn’t cause. They no longer needed surprise,

25
 NOTES OF A SURVIVOR

now that they had numbers. They were tall and humanoid, except
The tunnels connected most of the their skin was covered in blue and grey
downtown buildings, including the scales. They wore red hoods over their
municipal building, and once I poked heads, and shadow covered their faces.
my head inside, I knew I found the I could see their chins were the same
source. Inside, there were robed corps- blue and grey scaly flesh, but I could
es scattered throughout the basement not distinguish lips. While their appear-
room, and at the center of the floor ance was ubiquitous, their bearings
was the chalky remains of a sigil. I were unique. A couple stood in the
found a burnt book that probably room, huddled in small groups. Some
would have given clues if it had sat at the Council’s desk, ruling over the
survived. It was strange to see anyone rest in the room. A few were loners,
permanently dead, but these bodies sitting or leaning in isolation through-
looked like one death was all they out the room. The effect suggested that
needed. while these creatures were the same,
I carefully climbed the stairs to the they were individuals. Their outer
higher floors, skipping the first floor appearance was more of a uniform
for fear that Shamblers would be than anything else.
guarding the location. There was noth- I was trying to see what they were
ing of interest in the offices. One day, when one of the loners spotted me. I
bureaucrats were coming to work, felt a whine in my inner ear, like some-
stamping documents and forwarding one leaned over my shoulder and
memos. The next, they were the walk- started mewling. It turned to the door.
ing dead. Some probably escaped, but Its movement got the attention of the
the carnage in the room suggested very others, and soon, about a dozen hoods
few. The point was that these floors were pointed at me. The ones at the
were empty, so the dead didn’t stay Council table pointed at me, and the
dead up here. Whatever killed everyone whine in my head became a scream. I
in the basement worked, and now the fell to my knee, clutching at the sides of
dead are alive. my head.
I felt them before I saw them. The I heard the door opening, and a
thing about Type Three zombies is that kicked my foot against it. While I
they were never alive to begin with. rubbed my temples, I felt my locked
These creatures are demons. They knee thrumb against their pounding
radiate evil. I found them in the Coun- and pushing. Soon, I felt my thigh
cil Chambers, seated all over the room. moving back, and I realized they would
I watched from a window outside, too overpower me. I kicked myself to my
scared to infiltrate the room. If I could feet and ran to the stairs. I knew the
feel their evil outside, could they feel building well enough to know there
me inside? were four sets of stairs, and about

26
 FREE BUNDLE MAGAZINE

halfway down the building, I switched

stairwells to confuse them. I went back
to the basement, still avoiding the main
lounge, and went back into the tunnels.
The third type of zombie is not of
this world. I call them Screamers. They
have a psychic link to the rest of them,
I’m sure. It’s been three months since I
discovered them, but every week, I
must abandon my hideout due to
Shamblers somehow finding me. When
I find a new home base, I have a day
before Scouts start moving up the
streets, begging for salvation.
I believe I have been tagged. How
else do they always find me? I don’t
have much time left. The most I can do
for anyone in this world is leave this
letter behind and hope it is not found
by the enemy. I’ve been thinking of
getting out of the city and up to higher
ground, but because the toppled com-
munication towers were always set at
mountain peaks, I know the zombies
hit the trails and roads early. Who
knows how many Shamblers are wan-
dering the woods? Hell! Who knows if
there are zombie mountain lions out
there?
I’m going to draw the Shamblers
somewhere else and hope this letter
finds a survivor. I’ve thought about
going out in a blaze of glory, but I’m A Free Bundle Original
too scared of dying. Podcast. Listen free on Spotify,
Stitcher, Apple Podcasts and
Amazon Music.

27
 FREE BUNDLE MAGAZINE

Sif's Folly by Julian Grant

Julian Grant is an animator, an educator, and author of strange and unique short stories plus
full-length novels/ non-fiction texts and graphic novels. A tenured Associate Professor at
Columbia College Chicago, his work is enjoyed worldwide. Find out more about him at:

www.juliangrant.com

Sif chanted the words over her beloved,

fingers floating as she traced the runes on
the cold body. Nothing. Beneath her, the
corpse lay still. With tongue clenched
between her teeth, sweat slid down as she
implored her Gods in silent concentration.
Loki remained still. His matted, grey hair
lank against him, eyes struck open in a
final upward stare. Sif waived the greedy
flies that tried to gather away.
“Put him aside for me, Sif,” Mother
called. “We can have him for dinner
tonight.”
Sif gasped as she grasped Loki by his
long-tapered ears, clasping the rabbit to
her chest.
“No, Mama, he’s mine...we can’t eat him
-- then he won’t come back. We can’t!”

28
 SIF’S FOLLY

Storming out from her place under drew close to an alleyway skirting the
the kitchen table, Sif raced out of the square. A rune decorated tent with
kitchen slamming the door behind her, torches of yellow, blue and green
tears blinding her mad dash into the late remained open -- calling to her. Sif
summer streets. crept towards the lights drawn by their
Kattegat was a busy trading port filled strange, beautiful colors flickering in
with travelers from all over the world the half-light.
bunched together on the docks in a Inside the rough-hewn tent, a grizzled
clump of crates, furs, and people. Sif ’s Shaman prayed solemnly in his ritual
eyes picked and dismissed the swarms space. Candles closeted the tent as
of adults before her, merchant, merce- thick, fragrant smoke floated above
nary, maiden. The list ran long as she him. Reciting under his breath, the holy
cradled her newly dead friend. Loki had man breathed his offerings to Great
been her companion for life -- and now One-Eye and his bride. Bright sparks of
he was gone. Mother had warned her many colors danced from the totem he
not to name or grow attached to any of clenched in his gnarled hands as he ded-
the animals. They were good only for icated himself to the Gods.
the yard or the pot -- but Sif had With greedy desperate eyes, Sif saw
ignored her once she fell into the limpid the magic burst forth from the Sha-
brown eyes of the rabbit and stroked man’s wand. Clutching Loki to her
his soft, velvet pelt. He was hers and she chest, a smile crept across her
was his. tear-streaked face.
“There must be a way to fix him,” Sif “This is what we need, Loki. Real
muttered as she continued to weigh the magic. I shall steal his wand and use it to
tradesmen and travelers crowding the bring you back. There will be no pot for
open-air market. “Some foreign you, no dinner of boiled love and
magicker or rite I can perform to bring broken promises.” Laughter danced in
sweet Loki back.” The crowded stalls her heart as she stole away into the
and curiously colored tents brought no shadows running up the hill home.
relief to Sif as she wandered through She had no problem creeping out later
the crowds. that night, her feet fleet as she winged
As evening fell, the shutters were to the Shaman’s tent. Sif liberated the
drawn and the last of the crates closed jewel-encrusted yew branch as the old
leaving Sif alone in the purple twilight. magicker slept, his snores bellowing in
It was time for her to go home. Her the crisp, cold night.
mother would already be angry for her Sif climbed up the steep streets out of
racing out into town without an escort. Kattegat through the thin trail cut into
Loki lolled in the girl's arms as she took the far-reaching woodland that towered
one last hopeful look about the market. over their town. High above them, the
Sweet incense drifted on the air as she holy circle lay waiting for Sif to bring

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her friend. Night fell in velvet splendor she cried out into the inky blackness.
the higher Sif traveled ever upwards “Hail Odin, Hail Freyr, Hail all the
with the stars alone lighting her way. Gods. Bring back my Loki, my best
Loki offered no complaint as they clam- friend and forever companion.:
bered closer to the Gods and their Ethereal waves of colored light burst
salvation. Stealing skywards, her hand forth from the wand surrounding the
clutched the magician’s tool as she recit- keening girl as her exhortations and
ed the spell she had made up from the celebrations reached upwards.
family daybook. She had unearthed Onwards, her pleas and promises wove
rituals for life, prayers for the crops and tapestries of love as more and more
had mixed them well together in her fiery forever light flooded them both.
determination and intent. She pushed “Return to me, my favorite, my most
through the bracken moving ever loved - rise up my friend, my compan-
higher on the steep mountainous range ion most fair and beloved. Bring back to
on lightning quick feet. The altar await- me my protector, my strong and silent
ed. On her back, Loki bobbed in merry love. I implore you to honor and bless
counterpoint to Sif's every step. my humble request.”
At the summit, five stone monuments With a downward thrust of her arm,
ringed the clearing -- tall, strong war- she pointed the magic wand at Loki.
riors of old whose names she did not ‘So Mote It Be!”
know. The heavy boulders stood senti- An eruption of yellow and gold fire
nel to the ritual space. She panted in burst upon the clearing as Sif ’s calls
breathless wonder at the strange tall echoed through the stones and the deep
figures, silver starlight the only witness rich forest. Magic light exploded in an
to her arrival. Sif flustered down to the exhortation of colors -- and then was
praying stones, her fingers tracing intri- gone.
cate rune shapes in the dirt. She pulled Loki lay still, unmoving, his pink
Loki from her strapping and laid her tongue lolling in an endless smirk.
sleeping love down in the sacred space. “Loki, Loki?”
Breathing deep, she began her incanta- Sif leaned over the rabbit reaching out
tion, her secret magic words of reani- to him. His marble, sightless eyes stared
mation filched from prayers of old. back.
Above, the stars wheeled in desperate Hot torrents of angry, bitter tears
glory as Sif wove patterns with the burst as Sif ’s small fists pummeled the
wand for help. ground in frustration.
“Blessed be, my love. Arise, arise my The spell had not worked. Loki was
heart,” she cried out. “Love comes back still dead.
to me so I may no longer lament.” “Why won’t you listen to me?!” Sif
Standing now, her body taunt, her shrieked as she snapped the magic wand
hands reached towards the night sky as in horse-mad fury. She threw the crack-

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 SIF’S FOLLY

ling, broken tool into the clearing as her Her hands flew to the short branch
cries bled out. she had used to dig Loki’s grave.
“If you do not believe in me, then I Breathing softly, she turned to face the
shall not believe in you. I forsake you. sacred stones, her breath pluming in the
You are not who you claim.” night, eyes narrowed in anticipation of
From the wand, waving contrails of a strike.
ether seeped out into the rocky hilltop “I am fire and thunder! I fear no crea-
slowly dimming in the stone. Sif lifted ture!”
her cold love in last goodbye, her She raised her club, stepping out into
magick spent and Loki forgotten by all the circle, eyes darting from side to side.
but her. Before her, a rock fell untouched
“No pot for you, Loki. No embarrass- against the broken magic wand lying
ment of potato or sauce. I shall give you alone in the circle.
a grave -- a fine one made of love and Then another. And yet another --
labor. You will not grace our table. I can moving as if pushed by hands unseen --
do that for you, at least.” climbing up on the neighboring stone.
Sif dug with threadbare hands on the Sif watched in growing wonder as
rock face floor looking out into the bay. stone upon stone began to push against
From here, Loki would enjoy a fine one another, jostling in never-ending
sunset each night and she could visit fashion. Her stick forgotten, Sif mar-
him from time to time. She sang softly veled at the magic before her -- moving
to herself as she labored. closer to the growing collection of
“The rabbits are all asleep in their harsh shale and granite cascading
beds, I join them now as I lay down my together.
head. We shall see each other again Around her, the rock circle rumbled in
evermore. Tonight let us drift to the uneasy sympathy. The ground beneath
endless shore. Sleep well. Goodnight.” Sif ’s feet tremors in anticipation. Jagged
Behind her, a rock fell in sharp relief plinths of long-dormant stone burst
in the cold, quiet night, a bright clack forth from the ground thrusting up
that set her nerves afire. towards the night sky. Rocks gamboled
“Who’s there?” and clacked in restless fashion finding
All of the wolves in Kattegat had long purchase against one another in omi-
been hunted from the wolves but many nous shape and form.
scavengers could be counted on return- Her breath caught in Sif ’s throat as
ing at the turn of the season. before her a creature of rough ham-
Sif ’s heart throbbed in quick, rabbit mered stone assembled itself -- a rising
steps as she willed herself not to panic. homunculus birthing from the ground.
“I am almost a maiden grown,” she It pulled itself free from the dirt tower-
muttered through clenched teeth. “I ing over the girl. The creature’s rocky
will not disgrace my family.” maw howled in silent protest as Sif fell

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to the ground swamped in tendrils of long fall to the rocks below. Her fingers
fantastic color that burst from the crea- grasped at grass and tree trying to slow
ture. Feldspar, iron and thick-loamed her mad downwards spiral.
rock became a giant man of crooked Sif fell off the mountain out into
teeth and bright red emerald eyes shin- space.
ing bright. She shrieked in the cool, whistling
Hurling herself down the trail, her night as her hands streaked out for
part in this terrible birth forgotten as impossible rescue.
raw animal panic added speed to her Above her, the stone golem flew out
frantic retreat. Sif raced through the into the emptiness following her. It
tree-lined path as terror fueled her plucked her in flight with ease as Sif ’s
flight. Behind her, the monster thun- eyes closed in resignation.
dered -- heavy iron footsteps beating a The rock being wrapped itself around
tattoo of thick, dark pursuit. Sif cocooning her in its body, swallow-
Sif fell, flailed and leaped through the ing Sif whole as it rolled, slapped and
bitter boughs that slapped against her gallumped through the brackish tree-
tearing at her face and hair. Thin fingers tops and gnarled brush. Sif waited in
of sharp needles stung her eyes and silent blackness as the rock creature
face as she fell down the forest path smashed to the ground -- bursting on
racing home. impact.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sif cried out as She flew out onto the thick grassland
she chanced a look over her shoulder as beyond the rocks as her stone prison
the stone creature rumble-tumbled shattered about her. Large pieces of
through the pines. She had created a stone shattered around her as a torren-
giant rock creature that shouldered tial wave of pebbles carried Sif safely to
through the forest in easy fashion. A a stop.
dull choking sound chunneled out from Bruised, bloodied -- but alive, she
the depths of its impossible mouth. dragged herself up looking at the
Thick breaths of rugged earth fell upon mound of stones. Panting in weary
the forest floor as laughter born of the exhaustion, she rubbed her eyes casting
mountains spilled from the creature. a cautious look at the now silent rock.
It reached for her as Sif slid down to It lived no more.
the ground avoiding the long, fractured Her laughter peeled out in bright
fingers of rock. She lost all tread and flower as she staggered away to home
control of her flight, falling hard down not seeing the small cascade of stones,
the crooked path unable to slow her red-eyed rubied creatures - drawing
descent. Scrambling, desperate feet and themselves up from the dust. Hundreds
grasping hands flailed in terror as the of small living friends followed her as
turnoff for her appeared. Sif bleated as she limped back to Kattegat.
the edge of the path gave way to the She would never be alone again.

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 DAGGERS & HEROES

Lizard’s Tail by Lucrezia Pei and Ornella Soncini

Lucrezia Pei and Ornella Soncini are two young Italian writers who are relatively new to the
anglophone literary sphere: after several works published in Italy both online and in print
(most recently on Sulla quarta corda and Spore), they will soon make their U.S. debut on The
Shoutflower. The original Italian version of Lizard’s Tail, Coda di lucertola, appeared early
this year in Sulla quarta corda, an Italian online literary magazine.

https://www.instagram.com/sottolacopertina/

Halfway through the preparation I I couldn’t really stand up as before.

get a cut, straight down the middle of It’s less comfortable now. My knees
my palm. are bending, my legs are splaying out a
«Add more caciocavallo, ’ammam- little wider below me. Eventually, my
ma, there’s a smidgen of it left over – bones will snap and then I will only
bet it’s gonna go bad and then what, crawl.
we’ll have to throw it away...» I wish I could sit down, but there are
I put the rice ball down and grabbed no free seats. The place is warm
the cheese, holding with one hand and enough, at least. I’d much rather watch
slicing with the other; but ever since the skillet and stand closer to the fire.
my latest accident, if I focus on stand- I’m not going to offer, just because I
ing straight, my fingers won’t obey me. don’t think I could.
I feel the burn. When I look down, More and more often, I lose bits and
there is a wound there. No blood is pieces of myself. From my spot, I
coming out, it’s healing pretty fast. watch as my mother and her sisters set
My mother doesn’t notice what’s the table. They barely notice me. I am
happening to me. She’s facing away, so quiet, these days, you can hardly
showing us where to set down the hear my steps and so silent chances are
already breaded rice balls as she looks they have forgotten my voice.
after the frying with my aunts. It doesn’t sadden me. I lose and let
By the time I’ve added the cheese, go.
compacted the rice, laid the arancino So long as I’m safe, I don’t really
on a large plate, I’m already healed. care. When I’m outside, though, I can
But at a price. Right after the cut, I felt tell I’m being watched, that danger

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finds me more easily. I hardly ever Scurrying, I took cover.

leave my enclosure: I you ask me, I bet The screams came soon and went
they can feel it, that I’ve got something even sooner.
edible hiding under my skin. I hopped all the way through to the
There was that one time, not long ago. still warm leg to retrieve my sock and
I had wandered out of town to be on shoe, relieved just to be alive. I threw
my own. Not a soul stayed at the villas the leg in a dumpster close by. It was
in the winter, but there he was all the going to grow back, guaranteed; but
same, the stranger. Maybe he had come still, I had lost something.
to air out the holiday house of some My mother and her younger sisters
doctor wintering in the hinterland. buzz past me. I can hear them mention-
When I realized the stranger was ing Ture.
following me, I froze. It could be that My mother says she ran into him on
he had seen himself in my eyes and I her way to food shopping, that he has
had mirrored his hunger back at him. found himself a zita, at long last. At that
He started to chase me like a barnyard name, nothing stirs inside of me. By
cat. now, something only ever happens
I ended up leaving him my leg. It hurt, when I’m scared, hungry, or in my
but not terribly. I determined to lose the fertile window.
one that had fallen off the year before, Ture used to liked my round, black
the time I was run over by a car. Given eyes, my large pupils. That’s what he
that the leg had grown back nicely I told me during mating season.
went with that one, confident that, «I love you. You’re beautiful, your eyes
sooner rather than later, it would pop are beautiful».
out again. But it was too late. A few seasons
Simply wanting it was enough: it came earlier, his words might have touched
off without a drop of blood spilled. me. Instead, I crawled away from him
Detached from me, the severed leg and from his feelings.
didn’t stop wriggling. It just wouldn’t We weren’t really friends, Ture and I,
stay still, might be it was scared, too. but almost. He had been an ornament
On one foot, I grabbed it with both in Mrs. Linuzza’s garden every summer
hands and stretched it out on the of my life. But then, he grew taller and
ground, somewhere I knew the hunter taller, a giant compared to me, and once
would happen by. My twitchy leg was the hunts of small animals had started
left naked once it had slipped out of my in the grass, I dropped from sight. I’d
skirt. Sock and trainer shoe still on. just feel this urge to run.
It looked like the outstretched leg of a I stayed short, small, psoriatic. And
girl sitting in patch of shade – and how dark eyed, my pupils large and black.
was he to know that it wasn’t attached I might have accepted him, Ture, had
to the rest. it not been for that incident with the

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 LIZARD’S TAIL

stranger at the villas. At this point, I’m fast they wouldn’t even see me.
not really interested in words: I need Whenever I walk past him, Giorgio
other things, the kind straight out of a puts on a secret grin which I fail to
channel one documentary: some male return. I’ve been thinking, for a long
to grab by the hips, to bite me on the time actually, that he wouldn’t mind
back of my neck to keep me still and copulating with me, despite us being
enter me, mounting me as it should be. part of the same family group. It used
Ture is moving up North with his to make me sick, now I don’t mind. I
partner. I’m not sad I won’t be seeing almost feel like it, when I’m in heat.
him again. Grandmother can only see through
Some of my family group also lives up one eye, but now that I’m standing next
North. They come down sometimes. to Giorgio she stares at us, breathes in
Today is a holiday so we are having a get once, then shakily lays her bony fingers
together. It’s less sunny over there, but on his shoulder. «San-Giorgio, my
still they manage to breed fast: almost handsome boy, ’annonna». My mother
always, when they visit, there is a new always dries her eyes when she thinks
hatchling. They tell us that they copu- back on it, that I was this close to
late with multiple mates, which to me becoming extinct before my time; my
sounds like a good strategy to continue father waves the thought away, as if
the species, what with hatchlings swatting a fly. One among the many
coming one at a time. Then there is traditions of our family group. I stay
Giorgio, who has no hatchlings and will silent. Even though it’s a lie, San-Gior-
also choose males as partners. If it were gio slaying the dragon.
somebody else, they’d make a huge deal They have all gone to the beach.
out of it, but he is San-Giorgio the By now they’ll be soaking in the sun. I
miracle-worker. am, too, only on my terrace. And I’m
He never fails to remind me that, if it thinking about San-Giorgio again. The
hadn’t been for him… and I nod thing is, I am fertile. When it hits, I am
because I can see that it pleases him. He eager for a mount. But I’m here alone,
has brought it up again tonight, while and struggling, because I lack a male. I
munching on an arancino. The others can’t just offer myself, he must do it.
heard him, they called him San-Giorgio, And there’s also the matter of us shar-
they laugh. ing the same blood: I need my hatch-
My mother and I haven’t sat down lings to be healthy.
once yet. We slip in between plastic Unlike me, who was constantly ill.
patio chairs and peeled walls, carrying Even that time, when San-Giorgio
plates, replacing silverware, pouring slayed the dragon. I’ve been thinking
drinks. If you ask her, I move too back on it lately, seeing it in my head
slowly. But if I were on all fours, I’d and always from the outside.
slide under table legs and chairs legs so I see myself in bed, hair on my face

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and mouth open, dried drool from the my throat into my stomach.
corner of my lips down to my chin. I Since then, I haven’t caught the
see some movement in the semi-dark- mumps, or the chicken pox. Never a
ness, quick, up on the ceiling. I see that fever, or a cold. I’ve never caught
I feel it when the lizard comes crashing anything from the others, the people
down on my cheek. I see the stunned, around me outside of my terrarium. At
sleepy look on my face. I see my eyes school. At church. At parks.
grow wide, I hear the scream filling up My mother, the ruler of this territory,
my mouth. I see that San-Giorgio was concerned. I came from one of her
comes along, hair wet and red striped eggs, but we are no longer part of the
trunks, that he stops at the door. I see same species. She bleeds, sheds her hair
and I hear him laugh. I see that a lizard and nothing inside of her urges her to
has dropped its tail, which writhes a fall into a deep sleep at the first signs of
breath away from my nose, tickling a cold weather. The others are much the
nostril swollen with snot. I see and I same.
hear myself cry fat tears, coughing as Soon enough, I’ll have to give up on
the lizard slips between my lips. I no something, I can feel it.
longer see it, but I remember it darting Someday, the others will find my skin
on my tongue. I see that it hits San-Gi- limp, empty as a cracked shell. It won’t
orgio: I’m choking. I see and I hear him be moving, there will be no breathing or
stop laughing. I see that he is by my side pulse, and they’ll think I’m dead.
in a flash, shoving two fingers inside my Only, I won’t be.
mouth and wriggling blindly. I see that Am I...?
he grabs my tongue. I see that my eyes Night. Cold. Bed. Dead. Skin. Down.
are leaking and my nose is running. I see Floor. Air. Vibrates. Wings. Open.
that he can’t see anything. I see that I Mouth. Air. Vibrates. Zzz. Hunger.
push him off, which has him falling on Snap. Drool. Wings. Legs. Blood.
his butt. I see myself cough, spit only Mouth. Mmh. Close. Tear. Swallow.
saliva, clear my throat, swallow. Climb. Wall. Black. Asleep... Awake.
Afterward, San-Giorgio made sure I Light. Warmth.
was all right, as white and as red in the Window. Shutter. Crack. Slip out.
face as his trunks. Then, he smelled the Wall. Rooftop. Tile.
air: I had peed myself. He picked up the Sun.
tail on the pillow between thumb and Vibration. Steps.
forefinger, dispassionately. He shot me Vibration. Buzz.
a warning look then was off downstairs Vibration. Screaming.
to call his mother, trophy in hand.
San-Giorgio the dragon slayer. Me still
on the bed in a warm puddle, mouth
closed shut; the lizard crawling down

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HER AUTOMATON

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Prince of Ashes By Adam Ells

Adam Ells is a writer from Vancouver, BC and he sent us this original story for publication.

"My Prince, it's here." Sir Owen, from

outside. I heard it too. great booming
wind-noises like the sudden filling of a sail.
Sunlight filtered through the canvas of the
tent. The smells of musk and sex filled my
nose. I wanted to wallow for a while. I
wanted him to come back to bed. I crawled
out, pulling on my tunic. Outside, the grass
around was trampled down. Our weapons
leaned against a rock. He was standing at
the edge of the ridge, in only pants. I
stared at him like that, his thin, brown
back, those little dimples at the hips.
"Look," he said, pointing up.
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 PRINCE OF ASHES

I stepped up beside him, shielding my high up, so far away. He had his court
eyes. "Where?" face on. That face that could have been
He took my hand, directing it, tracing a a statue carved in his likeness, rather
line across the sky. I saw it, and I heard than the actual man. I told him my plan,
the wings. That great, impossible masking my pride at its cleverness. He
Whoosh. My skin prickled. It was so stood up, striding down each stair to
high up, and the wings glowed with stand in front of me. I was careful to
filtered sunlight. stay kneeling, to not look at him.
"It'll work," I said. The dragon came low. I thought of the
"Of course it will," Owen said. "We'll books I had read. Four legs. Many schol-
hear when it lands." He took my hand ars said that would be impossible, but
again, pulling me towards the tent. I felt there it was: thin, snakelike, but with
the iron ring on his finger, the one my four legs, and a great, disproportionate
father had given him. He'd been my head that swung about like a bell. It had
companion since we were kids. My vast, papery wings, spiderwebbed with
father had brought him up from the veins. I'd heard that they were red, but
slums of Ferrier. We'd fought in wars this one was more reddish brown, like
together, killed together, knelt in the clay. It swooped around, circling the pile
mud and accepted our knighthoods of gold coins and plates and cups and
together. It had been a long time since cutlery, like a falcon over a lake stalking
we'd had time alone like this. I went with for prey. We had gathered the gold from
him. the cities of my kingdom. They were
only too happy to oblige, with the King's
Mother always said, "you can solve any army at their gates.
problem if you read enough." So, when Owen came out and stood beside me.
Father set me the task of rescuing my The dragon landed, and its impact
maiden sister from the terrible beast, shook the ground. It slithered around,
and return her to her love, I did what I four legs working quickly. Its long, thin
do best. I read. With Father's gaze over tail trailing behind, snaking through the
my shoulder, I found things scholars grass around the pile of gold. It opened
had forgotten, in tomes that were its mouth, and the air around it shim-
thought to be lost. Dragons hoard gold, mered with heat.
yes. They covet gold, everybody knows "Fire made flesh," I said, and rushed
that. There are so few of them left now, for my notebook.
and the few who survive hide deep I could see that it longed for the gold.
within the mountains. But there are Its eyes shone as it paced around and
some who still know. The dragons hoard sniffed the air. Finally, as if it had no
gold, because the dragons eat gold. other option, it burrowed through the
I came to my father with my findings, pile. When it emerged from the other
kneeling before the throne. He was so side, gold falling from the sides of its

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mouth, belching oily smoke, it slithered from the other side of the hill. I stopped
around and dove into the pile again. as the ground began to get steeper.
Despite this being one of the great won- There was a knot of trees off to our
ders of the world, Owen quickly grew right, and I could hear a stream some-
bored. He went off to hunt and came where close by.
back a few hours later, disappointed. All "Wait here," I said.
the animals had fled in terror. Owen shifted in his saddle. "Why?"
As it ate, its belly distended and I looked up. How could I tell him that
stretched. When it was done, it wallowed I wanted to shape my own place in
for a while. Its skin smouldered against history? "My sister," I said. "Who knows
the grass. I could see its eyes, burning what condition she's in. I want to come
orange coals in its head. I wanted to to her alone. As her brother."
look into them up close. The whole He regarded me for a long moment, his
valley reeked of burning grass and face a mask of stone.
melted metal. The ground around the "Father would want..." I said. "He
dragon was burned and furrowed, the would want me to do it like this. For it to
grass scorched away. It spread its wings, be known that I went alone."
and began to beat. It looked like a snake At that, Owen nodded. One sharp nod.
after it has eaten a rabbit, the lump of He understood Father's will.
gold clearly visible in the middle of its "If I don't come down by tomorrow,
body, stretching the scales there so that I come find me. But carefully," I said.
could see the glow of the fire under- I wanted to get close to him, to kiss
neath. It seemed impossible, but the him goodbye, but my horse was shifting
dragon flew. underneath me, raring to go. She'd
We watched it, Flying east, into the always been like that, sensing my antici-
foothills. Owen packed up camp while I pation. "Goodbye," I said. Owen sat
traced its path. It wasn't hard; it went in there as I turned towards the mountains.
a straight line. If we kept our course, As we crossed through the foothills, I
we'd find it. We rode our horses at a began to smell sulfur and scorched
canter. I was glad to get off that ridge stone. The grass here was thin and bris-
and ride again. My horse was as well. tly. I rode slow, at a walk. There was no
She'd never liked being stabled for very rush. The sun was high in the sky. Fate
long. She grew restive and irritable. I wasn't going anywhere.
reached my hand down and patted her We crested over a hill and I saw a cave,
neck, felt the short hairs, smelled the carved from a cliff face. Out in front of
sweetness of horse sweat. I felt oddly the cave's mouth, thirty feet or so away
sentimental. I had the feeling of wanting from the cave entrance, lay the dragon.
to savour every moment. The feeling It had crawled out onto a shelf of stone
that I was riding closer to my destiny. and lay down. It was rolled over on to its
Late in the morning, I saw smoke rising side, its great belly stretched and

40
 PRINCE OF ASHES

distended by the ball of molten gold "And I don't know how you're still
lodged in its centre. Its eyes were closed. alive. But," I said, "it's time to come
Stretch marks split through its scales, home."
steaming with heat. All around, the She gave a deep snort. "What did you
stone was black and cracked and smok- do to her?" she said.
ing. Even from up high, hundreds of "Who?"
feet away, I thought the air was a little "Her." She pointed to the dragon,
warmer. I hobbled my horse there, and curled up behind us.
patted her nose. There would be enough "Oh," I said. "I... I fed it– her, gold." I
grass for her if I didn't return. I secured couldn't help the grin creeping up my
the sword at my side, and made my way face, the triumph was still too close.
down on foot. She was on me in a flash, grabbing the
As I got closer, the heat became almost front of my shirt. "You stupid fool."
unbearable. I knew my skin would burn She brought her face close to mine. Her
and my clothes would catch fire if I got breath smelled like ash. "Did it ever
too close. I turned right, skirting the occur to you that I don't want to be
aura of heat. I tried to imagine what it saved?" She let go and stepped back,
would be like to touch the dragon's visibly quelling her anger.
scales. I'd be dead long before I got to it. "I don't understand," I said. "You were
But still, I wondered how they felt. taken. Father has made a good match
She was waiting for me at the mouth of for you at home. He's handsome and
the cave. "You," she said. "I should have kind. He's from Ringwood, in the west.
known." On the coast. It's beautiful there. You'll
She looked at me with a baleful, almost be able–"
bored expression. It reminded me of "So that's why you came."
when we were children, and I'd tell her "What?" I said.
tall tales over dinner, at our father's giant "Father needs me for a match. Is that
dinner table. She'd look at me just like right? Only willing to spend the gold
that. That piercing, fiery stare, brow when I'm needed. What, is it to form
furrowed. In fact, she looked thin as a some alliance?"
blade, and malnourished. Flat. Her skin "I'm rescuing you," I said.
was slick and shiny with sweat, herBydark She crossed her arms, staring at me.
Anton Chekhov
hair drawn back in greasy mats. Her clothes were no better than rags, her
"Annika," I said. "You look well." boots clearly worn right down. I stood
She crossed her arms, staring at me in quiet, not moving. She stared at me, the
cold silence. anger on her face fading a little.
I continued. "I don't know why the "How is our lord Father?" she asked.
dragon took you." "He's..." I hesitated. "The same.
She didn't move, just stared at me. I Mother died."
could feel myself fidgeting. She softened at that, but only a little.

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I'd grown up with Mother. Annika had shifted. A rock split open, releasing a
stayed at the capital with Father. burst of steam. Annika stood up, staring
"I'm sorry," she said. me down. "I wasn't kidnapped. I wasn't
"We need you to come home," I said. taken. I don't need an idiot prince who
"I don't know what you're doing here–" thinks he's a hero to come rescue me.
"I'm living here," she said. "I'm never I've already been rescued! I called for
going back." escape. I whispered in the dead of night
"I don't understand." to be freed from my prison. I dreamed
"Of course you don't," she said. "You of a dragon, and a dragon came." She
went off with Mother, to the beautiful turned away from me, walking towards
south. And then you went off to war. I the cave. "Begone," she said. "I don't
got to stay home. To serve Father. To be wish to see you anymore." She disap-
paraded out in front of his allies. To peared into the blackness.
dance with every man who might enter- I stood there, stunned. I turned, look-
tain the idea of marrying me. To endure ing at the dragon. She was on her stom-
his endless abuses." ach, eyes closed. Her belly glowed with
"His abuses?" I asked. molten heat. One eye opened. She
"Of course," she said. "Were you looked right at me. I felt her light on me,
blind? Everyone at court knew. He and the barest brush of some strange
demanded perfection, and I was never mind on mine. And then the eye closed.
perfect, so corrections were in order. "Wait," I said, turning and following
That's how I grew up." her into the darkness.
I remembered it, if I was being honest.
Some of it. But I also remembered The cave smelled like burnt stone. I sat
learning the sword, and playing in the across from her. She was in a wicker
yard with my friends. Annika always chair, nursing a pot hanging over a low
seemed so dour, even back then. It was fire. The smoke trailed upwards,
easy, as a child, to turn your back, to tell through a chimney that the dragon must
yourself a story that wasn't true. What have carved or melted out of the stone.
was I to do? In the corner there was a pallet, on
"But that'll be over if you come back," which sat a straw mattress. The walls
I said. "You'll marry this man, and you'll had been gouged so that there were
never have to see him–" shelves, on which plants and books and
"I'm not doing it. It's his plan. His candles sat. It was more comfortable
need. His order. I'm never doing than I expected. She was ignoring me. I
anything he tells me to again." chose to exercise patience, letting my
"This is no place for a princess," I said. gaze wander over the cave, marvelling
"I'm safe here," Annika said. over the workmanship. The walls were
"With... with that thing?" I said. so smooth, the shelves so carefully
As if it– she heard me, the dragon placed. Perhaps these creatures are more

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intelligent than history books suggest. light from outside the cave was fading.
She handed me a wooden bowl, filled "You knew," she said. "But you didn't
with a spicy-smelling vegetable broth. I want to."
smiled. "You have two bowls," I said. I wanted the silence between us to last
She sat down across from me, in the longer now. I felt like whatever I said
wicker chair. "You never know." next would be the wrong thing. I didn't
We ate. The broth burned, that have the words to make things right. I
surface-level burn, the one that makes felt like I was in the middle of a battle
you feel like your tongue's on fire rather without a sword or armour. By Judson Blake
"I should
than the back of your throat. It was have stopped him."
good, though. When we were done, I sat "You couldn't have," she said. "You're
back and watched her. She stared just just as much under his thumb as I was.
past my head. He might not have hit you, but–"
"Does she speak?" I asked. "No. I could have."
"She has a name," Annika said. "Ma- She looked at me calmly, all that fire
thera." drained out of her. She was saying these
"Mathera," I said, trying the sounds things like they were the most boring,
out. "She speaks then." obvious facts. "Who sent you here?" she
"Of course," Annika said said. "Did you come because you
"What does she say?" I asked. wanted to save me, or because you were
She shrugged. "The things anyone told?"
says, I suppose. She likes for me to read I didn't know what to say. The embers
to her." popped, the fire leaping and shifting,
The world morphed in my mind. There changing.
was something fundamental to the idea "That's what I thought," she said.
that humans were the only ones who'd I looked down. I could feel her watch-
be able to take in the information in a ing me.
book. "How many people have you killed for
"What... What do her scales feel like?" him?" she asked. "How much of your
I asked. life has been spent working to please
She shrugged. "Smooth. Like river him?"
stones." I focussed on my hands, clenched
The silence grew and grew between us together between my knees. I felt the
as we sat, limply holding our bowls. weight of the sword at my side.
"What he did," I said. "I didn't know." "You couldn't have stopped him," she
She looked at me, and for a moment I said. "No one in the world could have
saw a great well of hurt on her face. stopped him."
Then she pushed it down, like she Something caught in my throat. I was
always did. Whenever she fell, as a child, shaking. My vision blurred. Ghosts
she'd never cry. The fire was low, and the crowded the edge of my mind, visions

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of blood on stone, and fire through battles. "I don't think that's your deci-
glass. Tears escaped from my eyes, slith- sion to make," he said. "The King has
ering down and dripping on to my shirt. given orders. Orders we need to follow."
Her hand, on my fists. Her palm so I knew that would be what he said. I'd
smooth. "Brother," she said. "Brother." always known it. I stepped up to him,
And she hugged me. I stayed there, grasping his shoulders, trying to transfer
rigid, for a long time. Then, finally, I let all the tenderness in my heart at that
my hands unclasp, and wrapped my moment. "It's not about that," I said.
arms around her. "She's my sister. If I say–"
"I am loyal to the King."
"You don't have to come back," I said. I saw violence in his eyes. I half-heart-
"I'll tell him something." edly reached for my sword, but I knew I
We were outside again, looking at the could never fight him. He jabbed my
dragon. The sun was setting, orange stomach with the butt-end of his spear.
glow seeped through the clouds like an I doubled over. I felt the snapping sting
infection. She glowed softly, the dragon. of the shaft against my cheek. There
A red heart in the orange. was a gap and I was on the ground,
"Tell him what?" she asked. blinking, trying to clear my vision.
"That you're dead," I said. I heard Owen's voice. "You can either
I saw someone scrabbling along the come willingly, or I can drag you."
hillside. Owen. My sister: "I'm not going back."
"You're still with him, then," she said. Owen: "The King requires your--"
I looked over. She had a grim little "I'm not going back."
smile on her face. "So be it."
"I'll deal with him," I said. "I'M NOT GOING BACK!"
I went to meet him, at the edge of the I dragged my head up. He had her
glow cast by the sleeping dragon. He lifted up by the neck. She was kicking.
was using his spear as a walking stick. He No. No. She was lifting him up. Rage
stopped, looking at me with those cold, contorted her face. He tried to jab at her
ice-blue eyes that so attracted me. Now, with his spear but she grabbed it and
I felt fear of them, a fear I didn't fully broke off the tip. She forced him back-
understand. wards. He kicked his feet at the ground,
"You're still alive," he said. trying to gain some purchase. Dust and
"Yes," I said. dirt flew up where his boots caught. He
"She's alive," he said. clawed at her arms, trying to break her
"Yes," I said. And after a pause, "she's grip, gasping for breath. Still, she forced
not coming back." him back, towards the centre of the
He stood there, studying me. He had clearing. Towards the dragon.
this way of standing so casually, even in Owen screamed. His skin reddened,
tense situations, even in the worst blisters popped out on his face and

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neck. His hair smoked and blackened. dragon magic. "Henry. I told you. I'm
His tunic caught fire. The skin on his not going back." She took a step
cheeks was melting. His belly burst from towards me, still too close to the aura of
the heat, steaming blood spurting heat for me to get close. Behind her,
through the gaps in his chain mail, burn- Owen burned. All of his flesh seemed
ing in mid-air, disappearing. His scream to catch at once, like straw when you
turned to a low, steady moan, an animal touch it with a torch. I gripped the
sound. Finally, I heard his lungs pop, the sword harder. My whole body shook
breath forced like a bellows through his with rage and disgust and sickness.
ribcage. His body dropped at the drag- "Don't you see?" she said. "He was
on's feet. Owen smouldered and melted Father." She gestured to the remains of
in his armour. Owen. "Just another way to control
Annika stood over him, her clothes you."
burning away. She turned to me, orange "No," I said. I could hear the crack in
sunset-light glinting against her skin. my voice. Like a child's whine.
Shining. The light refracted and danced, "Stay here, with me. When I'm... when
beads of reflected light like a cracked my transformation is done, I can help
mirror. Smooth. Not skin. Scales. They you. We can go back, and together, we
glittered individually, all over her body. can burn the palace to the ground. We
Her shape, too, was different. The can kill him together."
curves and dips one would expect were I looked at her in horror. "No," I said.
gone. Bumps and imperfections "We–you can't."
scrubbed off, like a painters version of a Her face hardened. The pleading
person. Her belly button was gone, and sadness was gone in an instant. She
her nipples. She walked towards me, stared back at me, and I thought I could
towering above me as I lay on the see an orange glow in her eyes.
ground. "I will," she said. "That place is rotted.
"No," I said. It wasn't logical, just the Rotted all the way through. And I'm
only word that swam into my addled going to burn it hollow."
mind. She walked towards me, eyes locked
She smiled a magnanimous smile. It with mine. She sparkled in the
reminded me of Father's smile when he dusk-light. It reminded me of when we
was at court. "Brother," she said. "I'm were children, and we'd play in the pools
going to be a dragon." on the grounds, and our skin would
I got to my feet, swaying. My dinner sparkle like that, dappled with
churned in my stomach. I drew my sunlight-filled droplets. She came closer.
sword. "You killed him," I said. Close enough. I adjusted the grip on my
She held her hands up, placating, calm- sword, and took a step forward.
ing. That's why her palms were so Last night, I was up late reading. I saw
smooth. No lines. Scrubbed away by the Father shuffle past my door, trying to

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find the privy. He was going the wrong the patter of late night walkers, and the
way. I took his arm and led him. As I guards in their armour moving around
walked him down the hall, I realized below. My people. Every night, I pause
how thin he'd become, how small. I was in my reading and look up at the stars. I
so frightened of him. Now I just pity wait, trying to catch movement, trying
him. to see a shape black out the twinkling
I think it ended when I came back. I white lights. Listening for the sound of
laid Annika's burned, torn dress at his wings.
feet, and something went out of him.
He stood up, walking down the stairs to
his throne, and stood, nudging the dress
a little with his boot. I turned my face up
to look at him. He stared back at me, his
eyes two chips of flint. "So," he said.
"She's dead then."
I handle most of the Palace business
now. I feel the coils of royal life snaking
around me, never to let go. I am to be
married soon, before father dies. There
is so much I must do. So much I want to
do. My days are filled with my ambitions,
filtered through my obligations. It is
foolish, I realize now, to expect anything
of this life. We are only the obligations
we fulfil, the promises we keep.
The nights, though, are still my own. I
stay up late, reading and writing. I wish
to tell my own story. Perhaps, one day,
when I am old, children will read of my
deeds. Or perhaps not. My favourite
place to read is at my balcony, with
candles behind me and the windows
flung open wide, the ocean breeze waft-
ing in. Sometimes the candles are blown
out, but I don't mind getting up to
relight them. It's important to me to be
by the window at night. Although I'm
reading, a part of my mind is still in the
present, still by the window. I'm always
listening. I hear the sounds of the city,

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