All Destiny MoON Fiction: A Mix of Old & New Short Stories Read online

  All Destiny.com MoON Fiction: A Mix of Old & New Short Stories

  Edited by Ceri Hughson

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2011 Ceri Hughson

  Visit http://CeriClark.com for information about the author

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  About the Editor

  Ceri Hughson is the pen name of Ceri Clark. Ceri has compiled and published short stories and articles on All Destiny.com since 2002.

  Contents

  Preface

  About the Authors

  The Midshipman by Dean Warner

  An Unfinished Race by Ambrose Bierce

  The Price of Genius by Debra Grace Khattah

  Charles Ashmore’s Trail by Ambrose Bierce

  Daemons, Dragons & Infants by Alanna Blaney

  Ligeia by Edgar Allan Poe

  The Leather Funnel by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

  The New Catacomb by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

  The Witch by Anton Chekhov

  The Spectre Bridegroom by Irving Washington

  Love is an Empty Space by Russell Turner

  The Gipsy Prophecy by Bram Stoker

  The Merodian Revolution by Sarah Gallah

  Green Eyes by Ceri Hughson

  A School Story by MR James

  Cygnus Loop by Michael L Thal

  Madam Crowl’s Ghost by Joseph Sheridan LeFanu

  The Haunted House by Charles Dickens

  Schalken the Painter by Joseph Le Fann

  Present at a hanging by Ambrose Bierce

  Preface

  MoON is a mixture of old and new fiction in the science-fiction, fantasy and horror genres published in the All Destiny magazine over the years. They appear in the order they were published in the issues.

  A note about editing

  The authors of these short stories are from different countries, for example Britain, Canada, Ireland and from the US. As such I have tried to stick to the English language native to the country of the author’s birth. Therefore if you see color and colour used in different stories, it is as the author intended. Similarly some of the stories are written in older English forms, think of it as adding to the ambience of the story.

  About the Authors

  Dean Warner

  Dean Warner won our 2004 short story competition. Originally from Reading, just outside of London, UK, he worked in the Post Office from the age of 18 and studied accounting for 4 years. Taking a chance he moved to Thailand where he found employment as an investment broker.

  He has been writing since very young but had never submitted anything for competitions or publication until the Post Office launched an annual compilation of short stories, in which one of his stories was published.

  Ambrose Bierce

  Ambrose Bierce wrote several books and short stories. He was a journalist, satirist and novelist. He died in 1913.

  Debra Grace Khattah

  Debra Grace Khattah comes from Berkeley in Canada.

  Alanna Blaney

  Alanna Blaney won a short story competition with Writers News for her short story, ‘Sophia.’

  Edgar Allan Poe

  Best known for the ‘Fall of the House of Usher’, Edgar Allan Poe was a writer poet and editor. He died in 1849.

  Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

  While Sherlock Holmes is the most famous of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s creations, his other works included the Challenger series and historical works.

  Anton Chekhov

  Anton Checkhov is said to be ‘the greatest short-story writers in the history of world literature.’

  Irving Washington

  As well as an author, Irving Washington was also a historian. His most famous stories are ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’ and ‘Rip Van Winkle.’ Irving Washington died in 1859.

  Russell Turner

  Russell Turner sent his story in to an All Destiny competition from his home in Scotland.

  Bram Stoker

  One of the best gothic authors in history, Bram Stoker’s most famous work was Dracula. He died in 1912.

  Sarah Gallah

  Sarah Gallah sent her great story in to an All Destiny competition in 2005. This is surely a talent to watch out for.

  Ceri Hughson

  Ceri is the Editor of and has written various articles for the All Destiny Magazine. She published ‘Children of the Elementi’, a teenage fantasy novel in 2010.

  MR James

  This classic horror tale was written by MR James, an English author who died in 1936. He was noted most for his ghost stories. However he was a medieval scholar as well as a celebrated author.

  Michael L Thal

  Michael L Thal has written over fifty articles. He has also written the ‘Legend of Koolura’ and ‘The Light: An Alien Abduction.’

  Joseph Sheridan LeFanu

  Two classic horror tales in this collection were written by Joseph Sheridan LeFanu, an Anglo-Irish author who died in 1873. He was noted most for his ghost stories and mystery novels, of which these are two of his best.

  Charles Dickens

  One of the UK’s best known authors, he wrote masterpieces such as ‘The Adventures of Oliver Twist’, ‘A Christmas Carol’ and ‘Great Expectations.’ He died in 1870.

  The Midshipman by Dean Warner

  1872

  November 18th

  For those who may cast their eyes upon this journal, William Richard Sumner is my name, a non-commissioned midshipman and officer of His Majesty’s Navy assigned to my second crossing of the Atlantic Ocean, aboard a merchant vessel.

  As in accordance with my duty roster, and as the Articles of War convey for a midshipman: in the occasion of fatality or incapacity of all officers that I precede in rank, I am to commandeer the vessel on which I am aboard and administer all duties necessary to maintain captaincy of the said vessel. Therefore in the unfortunate absence of Captain Benjamin Spooner Briggs due to his passing at mid-day, on the 15th day of November 1872, I inherit the task of continuing to update the ship’s log and captain’s journal. I have undertaken all responsibilities of the captain’s position, and give my best efforts to meet the expectations of a senior naval officer. Our current position at this time is yet to be determined, although the captain’s last journal entry stated us being three hundred and seventy miles due south-southeast of port.

  Those of us left aboard the vessel honoured the captain in his committal to the seas that he’d sailed for decades of a distinguished career, followed sadly by his wife Sarah, and young daughter Sophia.

  He was a courageous seaman admired and respected among the crew, and I’m sure I also speak on behalf of the officers that he’d previously sailed with, and those with whom he were acquainted with onshore.

  In resuming captaincy, it is my duty to investigate the cause of death of those concerned, and in doing so I have eliminated the possibility of mutinous intention, and established that no unscrupulous misdeeds took place, and in consultation with the ship’s surgeon, we arrived at the assumption that an anonymous ailment said to be initiated by tainted pork was the appar
ent source.

  Hence, I have seen to it that the stock of pork was jettisoned with haste. Yet, the master and master’s mate, and the senior midshipman are evidently infected with the same virus having eaten the pork in the captain’s quarters beforehand, and are unable to perform any physical tasks aboard the ship.

  The symptoms of the virus, according to the ship’s surgeon include the inability to stand or walk due to frailty, headaches, vomiting, and a watery discharge of mucous from the nose and eyes, all of which the said officers of the crew are experiencing. Aside from sickness and death, the ship and its active crew are in splendid order.

  November 19th

  The infected members of the crew-master, master’s mate, and the senior midshipman respectively passed at various times during the night, and the remaining crew held the necessary funeral procedures for the men. This misfortune officially confirms me as captain of the ship and commander of its crew until it reaches its final destination.

  Two weeks have passed since we left New York Harbour on a course to Genoa, Italy with cargo of 1,701 barrels of grog and industrial alcohol, and due to the shortfall of crew, arrival will be delayed by a considerable yet immeasurable amount of time. The crew now consists of the surgeon, quartermaster, three able seamen and myself. However, winds and tides remain in our favour for now and supplies are in surplus. Following the weekly assessment of the cargo, I conclude all cargo to be present and of an undamaged condition.

  November 22nd

  As indicated by our quartermaster, we appear to be running at least two hundred miles parallel to our proposed course due to the contrary winds of the last two days, but have successfully resumed correct path to Genoa. In erring so recklessly, I considered ordering the quartermaster to spend the night aloft at the mast’s head as punishment, but for the sake of the fortitude of the crew, I faltered.

  Thomas Ratner, able seaman, complains of headaches and weak legs but continues duties as instructed. Gables, the optimistic surgeon attributes his symptoms to common seasickness, but I fear that the man may have acquired the same ailment that saw the captain and his family perish. To fuel the crew’s morale I allowed double rations of grog and salt beef, and onboard merriments. I also assumed night watch in place of Ratner.

  November 24th

  Following committal of able seaman Ratner, and by ill temperatures, the ship’s progress is thwarted further, and the spirits of the men are dampened. For the record, I note that Thomas Ratner was known for his eloquent and gentlemanly manner despite being an uneducated common seaman.

  I have seen to it that twenty-four hour watch is enforced in order to attempt location of passing vessels that may aid us, and that the remaining crew members double their efforts in order to avoid the extreme conditions and frosts of mid-Atlantic winter. Gables approached me this calm afternoon and claimed that Captain Briggs had once stated with seriousness, that he had feared the vessel to be cursed with demons. It was apparently the reason he’d had it repainted shortly after he had purchased it. I mocked Gables for pursuing the notion, and asked if he’d been drinking seawater.

  December 1st

  I have been confined to my quarters for several days, as I am this evening, with symptoms of influenza. I leave all petty-command and navigational duties in the hands of John Stewart, the quartermaster.

  While below deck I feel a state of repose, despite my infirmity, that I’ve not experienced since before assuming captain’s duty. I hear the ghostly creak of the hull as the ship sways to and fro over the muffled cries and shuffling of the men above, and contemplate Gable’s unusual account.

  The mind wanders in such a state, and I speculate how she could possibly be accursed-a mere twelve years of age and not a scar to disfigure her in any way. As small as she is, I recall remarking upon her beauty during my time as a common seaman a year after she was built in Nova Scotia. I stood and watched as she left Portsmouth on her third Atlantic return crossing. A one hundred and three foot, two hundred and eighty ton, double-masted merchantman brigantine. Lightly armed but heavily stocked, she sailed into a dense bank of fog and away to some mysterious land. I had envied the men aboard her, and aspired that one day I would have the opportunity to command a ship of her magnificence. It is ironic and unfortunate that in this manner, I have commandeered the very boat of those aspirations.

  It is nigh, and I hear something resembling cheers from the men on deck.

  December 3rd

  Two nights ago, the night watchman spotted a man-o-war from the mainmast, approximately a mile off portside, but visible by moonlight. From what I could ascertain with the aid of a telescope, I deemed the ship to be a pirated vessel for lack of a flag or form of identity. Without a full crew and stock of armaments, I made the decision not to pursue or signal the boat in regard to the safety of our crew and completion of its mission. Despite the contending opinions of my men, with mutiny and piracy as rife on the high seas as it currently is, I give the order that the course to Genoa be maintained.

  December 4th

  Shortly preceding sunrise, able seaman and ship’s carpenter Mr Finkler was the subject of an unfortunate fatal accident. He fell overboard while conducting maintenance of the starboard taffrail that was damaged by unfastened kegs in the night. Being the only witness to the event, I conclude his death to be purely of accidental occurrence.

  Gables the surgeon is of ill health, although he seemed to be of good spirits while we messed together in the captain’s quarters yesterday evening. During the meal we had consumed salt beef, bread, butter and three varieties of cheese, which appear to have been gnawed at by rodents. In spite of the shortage of food, the doctor has seen fit to discard all beef and cheeses without consulting me, leaving only salted cabbage, bread and butter. His claim is that he holds authority over all matters of health, being the only member of the crew of a medical disposition.

  December 5th

  The doctor dies in the night and I see to his committal myself before the men rise for duty. The numbers have now been reduced to two seamen and myself. Therefore I order alteration of course by six degrees, toward the Azores-from where I estimate arrival in eleven days-in order to restock, employ new crew, and subsequently resume course as projected toward Genoa.

  Meanwhile I am resigned to depend on the incompetence of officers Charles Winter and John Stewart, who consistently criticize and object my authority. It is captain’s duty to maintain discipline aboard his ship, and I do so with a will. It is evident that the men on deck feel a great level of contempt towards me that they are at no pains to conceal. If not for the seriousness of the circumstance, I would call for lashings to be given to the insolent rascals, but I myself am not yet acquainted with the use of the cat-o-nine- tails so the threat of a court martial upon reaching shore is enough to keep them about their duties.

  December 12th

  With the arrival of the twelfth day of the twelfth month, the morning brings a thick screen of mist sweeping across the deck augmenting the feeling of seclusion. Since I had not rationed any food to Winter and Stewart for the last three days, their deaths prove evident the contagiousness and lethality of the disease. They had previously complained of rheumy eyes and noses, and weak limbs. I determined that their whining was an attempt to seek clemency in their idleness, and their symptoms were nothing more than those of a common cold in the changing temperatures.

  Emerging towards me from the bank of mist like a phantom gradually materialising, four miles off bow, is an armed Spanish merchant ship with every square inch of its sailcloth spread. As I look yonder, I see its colours hoisted, and watch the crew man the masts and tend the rigging in the most elegant and organised fashion. tall, rigid bow aggressively parts the ocean and bounces through the waves before it.

  I ponder, and envision myself at the command of such an intrepidly vigorous frigate with a fine arrangement of men at my command, and then I reflect upon the irony of how my own mutinous, gluttonous ways have left me alone and guilt laden aboard
this plagued chamber pot. The ability and worth of the old bible-reader Captain Briggs had long expired before I poisoned him and those other pompous fools with the pork, but the deaths of the captain’s family, and the good souls that would sweat and bleed in the interest of a simple grog transport errand was not my wish. All I wanted was to feel the liberty of command on the high seas, and have a whole ship at my disposal, even if it were not a vessel of His Majesty’s fleet. Then after gaining passage to England, I would have duly received honours, and promotion to master’s mate at the least, and invitation to sail aboard such vessels.

  Murder was indeed my intention, and the pork I may have tainted, but the disease that claimed the lives of the other crew, save Finkler and Gables, was no doubt something brewed by the evil curse that lingers aboard. I can feel it. From stern to bow, starboard to portside. From the depths of the hull to the head of the mast, and through every length of timber its malevolent existence thrives, and lingers like the odour of a fresh corpse.