Glimpse

GLIMPSE

A New World

A short story anthology

Copyright

Glimpse: A New World

Copyright © 2016

All rights to the anthology are reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Rights to individual works appearing in the anthology remain with the submitting authors. Each author has permitted the story to be used in this collection.

Because this anthology's authors hail from around the world, you may notice some spelling and vocabulary differences between the stories. This is intentional, as it was our wish to respect and maintain all the authors' voices.

Cover design by Sarah Dalton

Proofread by Michelle Lowery

Formatted by Christine Royse Niles

Table of Contents

Title Page

Index by Author

Index by Genre

Author note

Contents by Chapter

Chapter One: Paranormal — Honor in Death

by Michael Anderle

Chapter Two: Paranormal — The Gridlocked Guesthouse

by Mixi J Applebottom

Chapter Three: Fantasy — The Eve of Change Prequel to The Founders: Book 1 of the Sage Seed Chronicles

by Holly Barbo

Chapter Four: Crime / Suspense — Lewenda Gets Married

by Francelia Belton

Chapter Five: Young Adult, Dystopian / Sci-fi — A Moment in the End

by David R. Bernstein

Chapter Six: Sci-fi / Fantasy — Shades of Sam

by Amos Cassidy

Chapter Seven: Romantic Suspense — Flashpoint

by M.C.Cerny

Chapter Eight Young Adult Fantasy — Rebels and Thieves: A White Hart Story by Sarah Dalton

Chapter Nine: Historical Paranormal — The Shongololo

by Vered Ehsani

Chapter Ten: Dystopian Fiction — Switch (The Lords of Misrule: a short story) by Andy Graham

Chapter Eleven: Paranormal — Eclipse of the Missing

by J.L. Hendricks

Chapter Twelve: Speculative Fiction — Insecurity Complex

by Jade Kerrion

Chapter Thirteen: Young Adult Paranormal — Defender of Mankind

by HJLawson

Chapter Fourteen: Young Adult Sci-fi / Fantasy — The Rise and Fall of Chrissy Cantrell

by R. A. Marshall

Chapter Fifteen: Fantasy — A Soldier’s Debt

by TJ Muir

Chapter Sixteen: Young Adult — Last Breath

by CM Niles

Chapter Seventeen: Science Fiction Adventure / Space Opera Science Fiction — An Altercation in Rykkamon

by Robert Scanlon

Chapter Eighteen: Young Adult / Dystopian — Found

by C.B. Stone

Chapter Nineteen: Fantasy — The Call of the Sea

by Ashley Stryker

Chapter Twenty: Science Fiction — No Accidents

by W. Bradford Swift

Chapter Twenty-One: Young Adult Thriller/Sci-Fi — Instincts

by Nick Thacker

Chapter Twenty-Two: Dystopian — Nothing is Scared

by Angeline Trevena

About Michelle Lowery, book proofreader

Author note

Index by Genre

Crime / Suspense — Lewenda Gets Married

by Francelia Belton

Dystopian Fiction — Switch (The Lords of Misrule: a short story) by Andy Graham

Dystopian — Nothing is Scared

by Angeline Trevena

Fantasy — The Eve of Change Prequel to The Founders: Book 1 of the Sage Seed Chronicles

by Holly Barbo

Fantasy — A Soldier’s Debt

by TJ Muir

Fantasy — The Call of the Sea

by Ashley Stryker

Historical Paranormal — The Shongololo

by Vered Ehsani

Paranormal — Honor in Death

by Michael Anderle

Paranormal — The Gridlocked Guesthouse

by Mixi J Applebottom

Paranormal — Eclipse of the Missing

by J.L. Hendricks

Romantic Suspense — Flashpoint

by M.C.Cerny

Science Fiction — No Accidents

by W. Bradford Swift

Science Fiction Adventure / Space Opera Science Fiction — An Altercation in Rykkamon

by Robert Scanlon

Sci-fi / Fantasy — Shades of Sam

by Amos Cassidy

Speculative Fiction — Insecurity Complex

by Jade Kerrion

Young Adult — Last Breath

by CM Niles

Young Adult, Dystopian / Sci-fi — A Moment in the End

by David R. Bernstein

Young Adult / Dystopian — Found

by C.B. Stone

Young Adult Fantasy — Rebels and Thieves: A White Hart Story by Sarah Dalton

Young Adult Paranormal — Defender of Mankind

by HJLawson

Young Adult Sci-fi / Fantasy — The Rise and Fall of Chrissy Cantrell

by R. A. Marshall

Young Adult Thriller/Sci-Fi — Instincts

by Nick Thacker

About Michelle Lowery, book proofreader

Author note

Index by Author

Michael Anderle:

Paranormal — Honor in Death

Mixi J. Applebottom:

Paranormal — The Gridlocked Guesthouse

Holly Barbo

Fantasy — The Eve of Change Prequel to The Founders: Book 1 of the Sage Seed Chronicles

Francelia Belton:

Crime / Suspense — Lewenda Gets Married

David R. Bernstein:

Young Adult, Dystopian / Sci-fi — A Moment in the End

Amos Cassidy:

Sci-fi / Fantasy — Shades of Sam

M.C.Cerny:

Romantic Suspense — Flashpoint

Sarah Dalton:

Young Adult Fantasy — Rebels and Thieves: A White Hart Story

Vered Ehsani:

Historical Paranormal — The Shongololo

Andy Graham:

Dystopian Fiction — Switch (The Lords of Misrule: a short story)

J.L. Hendricks:

Paranormal — Eclipse of the Missing

Jade Kerrion:

Speculative Fiction — Insecurity Complex

HJLawson:

Young Adult Paranormal — Defender of Mankind

R. A. Marshall:

Young Adult Sci-fi / Fantasy — The Rise and Fall of Chrissy

Cantrell

TJ Muir:

Fantasy — A Soldier’s Debt

CM Niles:

Young Adult — Last Breath

Robert Scanlon:

Science Fiction Adventure / Space Opera Science Fiction — An Altercation in Rykkamon

C.B. Stone:

Young Adult / Dystopian — Found

Ashley Stryker:

Fantasy — The Call of the Sea

W. Bradford Swift:

Science Fiction — No Accidents

Nick Thacker:

Young Adult Thriller/Sci-Fi — Instincts

Angeline Trevena:

Dystopian — Nothing is Scared

About Michelle Lowery, book proofreader

Author note

Paranormal

CHAPTER ONE

Honor in Death

By Michael Anderle

Chapter One

The draw of the blood was agonizing. Michael had not suffered from an affliction to test his honor in his life as he was suffering now.

The unquenchable need blinded his ability to think, to feel, to reason.

To live as a human.

He wiped at his face, the blood from his mouth now on the back of his hand. He looked down in disgust and wiped it off. He staggered away from the two horses and three bodies. A few short minutes ago, the three young adults had greeted him with open arms and carefree smiles. For their generosity, he paid them back with pain and death.

He needed to die. Again.

Oh, he had tried dying once already. When his body overruled his mind and reached for the young girl to open her neck with his teeth, he heard the sword leave the sheath. He was just able to keep his body focused on draining the girl while he waited for the youth to release him from his affliction. The need for blood overwhelmed his need to protect himself. A sword erupting out of his chest should be enough.

All the sword succeeded in doing was driving him insane.

The pain, the need for energy, overwhelmed his senses. A few dark minutes later, his mind rationally thinking again, he was horrified to find himself draining the third youth of the group.

Dead! All dead except the one who wished Death would visit him and do his job.

Michael stumbled into the trees away from the reminder he was no longer a man

Staggering through the brush, he headed toward the tinkling sound of a brook, a shallow stream where the water wound through the rocks. Some distance away, he heard the sound of a fawn and her mother drinking. The pungent smell of a boar was annoying his nostrils.

He bent at the stream, reaching down to cup water and bring it to his face, rinsing the blood off. He considered his bloodied shirt, but left it on. He looked up the stream where the trees opened to the sky for him to see the Carpathian Mountains. It was up there, in a metal cave, where this was done to him.

Never, he whispered. Never again will you do the wickedness to another that ye have done to me! Reaching down, he grabbed a stone the size of his hand and stood up to throw it toward the mountains. For a second, it didn’t register how far it flew, before crashing high into a tree some hundred and fifty steps away. Michael looked down at his hand and then peered toward the tree. It had a large chunk of bark stripped clean where the stone had crashed into it.

My Lord, he gasped, What is done to me?

He peered around, paying attention to the sights, the smells, and the sounds within the forest. All were now clean and clear as if all these sounds were right beside him.

He looked down to the large sticky and bloody rent in his tunic. Pulling at his shirt he found the blood already clotting the wound and shirt together. Michael grasped both items of clothing with his hand and pulled, stripping his shirt and vest off. He grunted with pain, the wound reopening. He touched it, feeling around the edges that were almost closed. In fact, closing slowly in front of his eyes.

He dropped the shirt on the ground and held his head in both hands while tears made their path down his face.

He couldn’t die, it seemed that Death had no hold on him.

He looked up to the sun, the warmth annoying to him at the moment. Before, he had loved to be out, to soak up the energy the sun gave him. Now, it made his skin anxious, annoying but bearable.

Turning around, he followed his path from the brook back out to the small horse path where he had met the unfortunate trio. He heard the horses long before he could see them through the dense undergrowth.

When he made it through the last thicket, he bent over to run his hands through his hair to push the leaves out.

Michael sighed heavily. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t the mark of someone in his right mind, but the evidence was clearly in front of him. Three dead bodies and the two horses grazing nearby.

He started toward the nearest horse, a nice roan with white hairs mingled amongst the black. It caused the horse to look like someone had painted it with gypsum and water. It flicked its tail toward Michael, and started to jump away as he came over.

Hold, Michael called, only to feel it said twice. Once out loud, once in his mind.

The roan stilled.

Michael came up and stroked the truly magnificent animal. He examined the saddlebags and pulled out a gem-encrusted hair brush. Something the young woman had no doubt cherished. It was worth a large sum of money, so she was the daughter, or perhaps very young wife, of a nobleman.

Honor. Michael wanted to spit on himself. Honor had been what had defined him before his curiosity had taken him to a fateful turn.

He had seen a mystery and had followed it. A metal rock, somewhat like a wheel turned on its side, had come down from the sky. Michael had watched it stay aloft, then slowly descend beyond a mountain some two days’ ride away.

He had finally found a way, a path through a cave hidden behind a boulder the size of a small barn. He had left his horse behind and carried only his dirk. It took him at least a full day, mostly in the dark with his hand against the wall to keep him on track. Eventually he felt a cool, clean breeze that heralded an exit.

Then, it was there. In front of him, sitting on what looked like metal legs.

There was an opening, with a light and a voice in a language he couldn’t understand, then pain. So much pain. He awoke, thrashing around in a hard coffin, barely able to catch his breath. There were things like straw, but bendable, stabbing him in his leg and in his neck. He bled as he yanked them out heedless of the results. He searched until his hand found a protuberance he could grip. He first pulled on it, pushed on it, and finally turned it and felt it give.

Twisting harder, he heard a noise and then a sound as if a blacksmith had used a small hammer against a rock and half of the coffin which held him started opening. There were noises sounding and lights flashing in this white room. He found his clothes and grabbed them as he fled the strange place. The rest of the memory, until he was halfway down the mountain, was shadowy.

He wasn’t sure if he remembered seeing a small human, one with no hair and large eyes, or if it was his mind playing tricks with his memories.

It was a day later when he came across the unfortunate and naive trio. He called them children, and compared with his experiences in war and fighting, in hard work and daily toil, they were. But in age, the difference was closer to three or four summers’ difference, at most.

They were the first victims of the savagery that had been injected into him.

Michael put the hairbrush back in the saddlebag and considered what to do. He had thought just to pass on through, but what of his honor? He would not run away from making the parents aware their children were dead.

If he told them, would they be able to kill him? Would the darkness come? Would he find himself awakening, savagely gnawing the neck of another in his blood lust?

How many would die before he found peace?

Michael looked around. The forest continued, if he remembered correctly, another half a day to the south. There was a large town down that way. Back to the north was a small fort. Important, but probably not where these youths had lived.

Michael grabbed the reins to the roan and within a few minutes, he had been able to catch the other horse. He laid the bodies across their saddles and managed to find enough material to cover them. He had not failed to notice the bodies weighed as if they were but little children. Nor had he missed the five claw marks on the body of the one who had held the sword.

He considered his clothing and went through the saddlebags until he found enough to wear, then made a small fire and burned what he could, and finally buried the rest. Finding money pouches he left them closed ... there would be no stealing from the dead.

Michael had a destiny, and if it took him an eternity to figure it out, that was fine. He would learn how to control this madness in him. Even if controlling the madness took a thousand years.

Chapter Two

Michael spent the remaining time until sundown walking the horses as far as he could to the south.

It took him fifteen minutes to organize his camp. He wasn’t hungry, and he used the fire to keep the predators away. After taking care of the horses, he laid the bodies off to one side and then decided that he would prefer to take himself up into the lower limbs of a tree. He climbed high enough so no beast could grab him from below before weaving a couple of the thinner branches together to bring the leaves close enough to cover him.

Then, he was asleep.

The fire drew down to coals when Michael’s hearing alerted him to a change in the noise of the night. His eyes, popping open, took in the surroundings without a muscle moving.

He inhaled deeply.

Bandits. From the stink and the sweat, they had been on the road for a while. It wasn’t the stench that screamed bandits to him. It was that the men were trying to sneak up on the camp in the early hours of the morning when they should have been calling out to those around the fire.

Michael considered what he needed to do. If he attacked, would he find that he couldn’t control his body again?

For bandits, did he care? Those without honor should die as they lived.

He could see two men in the dark underbelly of trees trying to sneaking closer. He could hear three others in an outer ring. Michael figured at least two must have crossbows. They would be ready to attack whoever tried to get to the horses.

Well, that made the decision easy for him.

He turned his head to the left, looking down, and noticed a leg sticking out from behind a tree some ten paces away. He turned to look to the right and found a bandit’s arm and crossbow poking out beneath a tree.

He stopped to listen, the quiet of the woods telling any who paused that something was wrong. Violence was here, striding amongst the trees. All the little creatures, for whom the night was their time, burrowed into hiding places.

As he strained to listen, Michael was overwhelmed with the many voices of the men beneath him and those further away, as their inner thoughts assailed his mind. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to reach out and steady himself. This cacophony in his mind was overwhelming!

He fell from the tree, crashed to the ground and alerted everyone around that someone else was moving.

There!

Michael rolled to his left as a crossbow bolt impaled the ground where he had fallen, trying to get his mind back to himself.

What tha … !? Another voice in his head exclaimed.

Better to be a moving target, Michael pulled his knife as he surged to his left, jumping over the bodies he had stacked like cordwood and plunging into the brush. He could hear the crossbow being cocked and readied to fire again.

He jumped toward a tree and shoved off it with both feet, hearing an arrow slice through the air where he had been a few moments before. The accuracy of the bow shot, Michael felt, was poor indeed. Grabbing a limb, he swung round to land four paces away from the crossbowman. The man heard Michael land but seemed to be moving in slow motion as Michael gripped his knife and ran toward him

It was but a second to stab his neck through, the arterial spray coating the limbs the bandit had been using for covering.

This allowed Michael almost a straight path toward the archer, who had notched another arrow. The archer was trying his best to aim where he felt the fast figure would be.

He released.

Michael watched