"Ghostly Things." A Samuel Light Junior Story By John Pirillo. Their intent was to eat the girl. His intent was to save her and them!
A Samuel Light Junior Story
By John Pirillo
"Sammie." Jimbo's voice hollered.
The underground tunnel opened up, allowing him to move more safely through the stinking corridor of waste and disposal that ran beneath Vegas. It was low now. Winter was the slower month through the seepage, but if it had been summer, they would have been to their knees in the stinking sludge.
He found Jimbo eyeing a side corridor. The walls went straight up for about ten feet, where they met a semi-lit ceiling with deeply recessed fluorescents every hundred yards, leaving deep pools of shadow between them. The walls were coated with a softly glowing green light. The floor was free of flow; it was higher than the one they currently stood on. Stacks of crates lined the walls on the right and seemed to go endlessly up the corridor towards some distant loading platform.
"What do you think it is?" Jimbo asked, his thick eyebrows surged together in a storm of perplexity.
Jimbo was his huge Texan friend. They had grown up together. He lived mostly in Vegas and Texas. His parents were ranchers. They spent half their time in Vegas. Half at their ranch. Mostly, they let Jimbo stay in a boarding school. A private school where he terrorized the teachers and chased the girls. He also went to Samuel's high school, where he was on the football team. Not many wanted to go up against him. They usually got stomped.
To look at him you'd think he was death on wheels, but he had a heart of gold and no better friend was possible for Samuel. Likewise Jimbo saw his gangly, think friend the same. They were batter buddies. Veterans of the occult and the paranormal and even the occasional gang war as well. What they couldn't finesse with their brains, they sometimes resorted to other things...like Samuel's ability to raise powers that could drive an opponent into their own past to see why they had become such jerks.
"You think they took her this way?" He eyed Jimbo.
"Look there, Mister Detective Man." Jimbo sneered.
Samuel spotted what he had overlooked at first because of the floor being so clean. Footprints. Next to the right side. Not that so much caught his attention as the occasional mark on the wall, which was like a "Hello, I went this way."
"I guess they must not be paying much attention." Jimbo commented.
"Let's hope not. Remember the last time you said that we almost got our asses kicked."
Jimbo smiled. "Yeah. Those were the good times."
Samuel shook his head. "Not really."
"Okay, partner. Let's agree to disagree and go kick some ghostly butt."
"Agreed." Samuel grinned.
They rushed along the new corridor, their flashlights scoring the walls and floor for clues as they ran. It felt good to Samuel to be moving again. It had been a long year at school. One final after another. Late nights up. Early mornings up. He was tired, but not hurting when they found a twist in the corridor that branched into four different directions.
"Holy crap." Jimbo cursed.
"Nothing holy about it." Samuel said.
Samuel looked at Jimbo. "You still have her scarf?"
"Never leave home without it." He said, plucking it from his thick cotton shirt pocket. He handed it over.
Samuel touched it and...
Eyes. Big eyes. Much bigger than they should be. The eyes were hungry. Very hungry. So hungry she could feel them savoring the thought of ripping into her soul and tearing her apart. She looked around. It was a very dark room, but the door to it showed a very, very bright light and there was one word on it...Superintendent."
Samuel staggered and dropped the hanky. Jimbo deftly caught it and stuck it back into his shirt pocket. "Well?"
"Wait a second while I come back into my body." Samuel urged.
Feeling stable again, he eyed the four different corridors. He pointed to the middle one. "That way!"
"What did you see?"
"How we're going to catch them." Samuel said in a grim tone.
Samuel swept his blonde hair out of his eyes and smiled at Candace, the cheerleader he was friends with from 7th grade. They lived on the same street and used to walk to the same elementary school together. She was a fun girl to be with. He remembered when she used to weight quite a bit more, but then she read up on some diets and found one that was healthy and applied it. She never put a stray pound on again. She usually scalded Samuel when he ate sweets or drank a Coke, but he ignored her friendly jibes. He knew what his body needed.
Somehow, it was like an inner voice was talking to him all the time. It wasn't scary like those ones you hear in the movies, or get when you're about to do something really dumb. No, it was warm and friendly, like you were holding hands with yourself kind of. That voice always pointed him at what he needed at any exact moment. It might be asparagus. It might be an apple. It might be a hamburger, which he didn't really like. But when the voice pointed, he complied.
And each year he grew stronger, taller and brighter. Least that's what his Mom always told him. The only reason why he believed the first two parts was because he and Candace had been the same height in 7th grade, but by the time they reached 9th, he was a foot taller and he could lift her without any effort, when she wanted to practice some of her cheerleader work.
They hung out together after school, using the after school activities to have some fun and wait for their respective parents to come home. Her Mom and Dad both worked for the Water Company and his Mom...well, she worked wherever she could now that Dad was gone. That thought always brought a twinge of unhappiness in his heart, so he would quickly dart in another direction so he didn't dwell on the past.
"I hear a new Indiana Jones movie is coming out next week." She gossiped.
He nodded, eyes on the book in front of him. He was studying for lit. She put a hand over its pages. He looked across at her. The library was quiet, except for the sound of keyboards by computers where kids were surfing the Net, or doing homework of their own. One printer was singing its humming song as it nicely printed out sheet after sheet of homework.
"I need to do this."
"You need to talk to me, Samuel. You haven't been yourself all week!"
He sighed, and then shut the book. "Okay. Jimbo's moving."
"Holy, Mother Mary, Son of God and Lord of Heaven, that just can't be!"
He laughed. "Candace, Mary was not the Son of God."
"You get it."
He sighed again. She was agnostic. And didn't care what she blurted out. But he loved her anyway. Not in a boyfriend girlfriend kind of way, but as you might a sister or brother. "It's killing me."
"Don't worry, Sammie, it'll be fine. It always is."
And that's the last thing he heard from her mouth as she got up to leave. "See you at Nina's?"
She smiled, gave a circular wave, and then exited the library.
School flew by and he wandered over to the B section where Jimbo was unloading books into his locker as a loudspeaker urged everyone they only had two minutes until the buses left.
"Hey!" He said.
"Right back at you, little buddy." Jimbo shot back.
Samuel actually was taller than Jimbo, but he didn't argue with it. They were pals. Pals could and do stupid things like that.
Jimbo eyed Samuel. "Sure. Best fries in town. When?"
Jimbo looked worried a moment, then nodded. "Sure anything for my little pal." He put an arm around Samuel's shoulder, then let go.
Samuel snapped back into the present. Ahead, he could see the lights brightening. "We have to slow down here. We don't want them hearing us?"
"Do they do such things?"
Samuel nodded. "They might be dead, but they still have ears."
"Sammie, I still find it hard to believe that dead people could hold Candace hostage."
"They're not. They plan on eating her."
"By shoving her out of her own body."
"That's not very sporting of them."
"You'd rather they actually ate her?"
Jimbo squirmed under Samuel's gaze. "Uh. It would make more sense. You know how hard it is for me to believe in all this ghost stuff."
"Even after all these years?"
"Especially after all these years." Jimbo admitted.
Samuel shook his head, put a finger to his lips, and then moved forward.
They sneaked to the side of a huge shack built in the corridor. Above the shack was a huge opening with the scoop of a mechanical digger hanging in plain view. "That's the Superintendent's Office." Samuel pointed out. "She's in there."
"Where's the construction crew?"
"Hey, it's Sunday, remember?"
"Oh yeah. Right."
They flattened against the shack and Jimbo looked to Samuel. "Now what?"
"Now you're going to close your eyes and when I say run. Run!"
"Run, but we're supposed to be rescuing her!"
"Just trust me."
Jimbo shrugged, made a sigh of disapproval, and then shut his eyes. "The things I do for God and my country."
Samuel kicked him.
"That's not playing fair."
Samuel pressed his hand against the wall of the shack and shut his own eyes.
Inside the shack Candace sat up suddenly, her eyes alert. The four figures that were hard to focus on gave her a sharp look. "Man, you guys are in one helluva lot of trouble now!" She shut her eyes.
The interior of the shack lit up brighter than the sun a moment.
Unearthly screams of dismay.
Candace jumped to her feet, flung open the shack door. Samuel was there. He grabbed her into his arms. "You okay?"
"Now." She said.
Then the four figures inside stopped screaming. They rushed the doorway.
Samuel nodded and pulled Candace aside and from view along with him. Jimbo burst into view and ran like the football hero he was for the ladder which stretched upwards into the fresh air above.
The ghostly figures burst outside and chased after him. They suddenly stopped. They turned around. Samuel shut the door they had come through and put a hand on it. It glowed for a moment, then the building.
The ghostly figures rushed towards him, howling like demons.
Candace, behind Samuel, screamed in terror.
The ghostly figures were within inches of Samuel when they bounced back as if striking an invisible barrier. They looked confused a moment, then rushed him again. The same thing happened once more.
They realized they couldn't touch him and turned around. Jimbo stood there with a huge work light, which he switched on. The ghostly figures screamed again.
Samuel stepped into their midst and hugged them to him. They struggled to break free, crying out over and over, as if in the worst of pains, then suddenly they relaxed and went limp. Samuel stepped back. Jimbo stepped back. Candace stepped back.
A huge tunnel of white light opened up before the four ghostly figures. They turned to look into it. What looked like a small group of normal folk stood in the light, smiling and waving. The four ghostly figures rushed into the light and it vanished with them.
Jimbo shook his head. "How in the world do you fake those illusions, Sammie?"
Samuel didn't answer. Jimbo just didn't want to believe his own eyes. He turned to Candace. "Ready to go home?"
She wiped tears of relief from her eyes and nodded. Jimbo stepped up and took her right hand. "Then let's get you home, you sweet bundle of joy."
She giggled, gave Samuel a grateful look, and then leaned into Jimbo as the two of them went to the ladder and the way back up to the surface.
Samuel smiled, if a bit sadly. His friend always got the girls. Always. But you know what, he thought to himself. I get something much better. He didn't know what it was just yet. But that voice inside him told him it was what most people would have gladly given their lives to have. Peace of mind. With that thought floating in his mind, he went to the ladder, grabbed the middle rung and began hauling himself back up to the open air, knowing that four souls were no longer lost in the darkness.
I don't normally like gory horror stuff, but the Walking Dead has been so riveting in its portrayal of human interactions and how they deal with a bizarre reality that I had to post this.
DC's Legends of Tomorrow...Hero Evolution...New Superteam coming in 2016 video preview! Looks awesome.
They awoke at death's door on a strange planet that was once their own. Crash "A Jules and Wells Story" By John Pirillo
"A Jules and Wells Story"
By John Pirillo
A great writer, H.G. Wells, once wrote that in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is King. But that is only half the story. Here is a tale of love and friendship caught at the gates of hell itself with two authors whose adventures in real life far exceeded their tales of wonder and fantasy on the written page. Jules Verne and H.G. Wells!
Wells lifted himself on his elbow, his face strained with great pain. Jules lay to the left of him, flung from his chair by the violence of their crash. Wells didn't actually see that. At that particular moment, he couldn't see a thing. Not a blasted thing, bloody hell and all! He thought to himself, ready to snap off a turtle's head, so angry he was at the co-ordinates he had fed Jules to put into the Strings navigator.
The forces hadn't been kind to either him or his best friend, he suspected. By the smell...acrid and bitter...he realized that the Master of the World was at best a wounded animal.
Another moan. This time louder and with more pain in the sound of it.
"My legs are crushed."
"Oh Jules. I'm so sorry." Wells croaked, his voice cracking as his emotions surfaced. They were both probably about to die.
"It is I."
"I can't lift the weight from my legs. I am flat on my belly and it is behind me."
He felt Jules, rather than saw him strain to see Wells. "You're hurt!"
Jules moaned again, but not because of his own pain. "Oh, dear friend, what a fine pair we are."
"I cannot walk. You cannot see."
"Think, Jules, what happened?"
"The String Space rejected our drive and flung us from it."
"That is impossible."
Wells hurt in every inch of his body, but nothing appeared to be broken. He sat up, inch by inch, by drawing himself upwards with the strength of his hands upon the command console, which was obviously broken in many places. It was a miracle that either of them had survived the crash, let alone with such small physical loss.
"I am glad you find this amusing."
Wells grinned, and then felt blood spattering his lips. He wiped it away. "Not at you, or us, but this whole bloody thing. Here we are in the middle of...bloody hell, I don't know, maybe God does, but here we are. Two cocky young rogues who have had more than their share of close calls and managed to squeeze by."
"Not this time, Mon Frere. Not this time."
Wells heard the agony in Jules voice. "Keep speaking. I will see..." He laughed.
"You're laughing again."
"I see nothing."
Jules was silent. He mourned for his friend, but he could do nothing. He strained to break free from the weight on his legs, but could not turn or move. "Then do the best you can."
"Do I not always?"
Again, Jules was silent. Wells dragged himself across the debris between them carefully. Without eyes he had no idea what might be in his path and didn't need to skewer him on some bit of compromising metal by accident. His knee struck something hard. "Jules?"
"That would be my head."
Wells laughed again.
"I am growing tired of this laughter."
"And I." He laughed some more.
Jules laughed as well.
"We are such a sorry pair of fools." Jules finally was able to gasp out between laughs.
"Yes, we are." And Wells burst into a new line of laughter.
Finally, they both settled down, exhausted by their physical pains and the fear of the unknown. Wells used his right hand to probe along Jules body, and finally stopped when he felt something hard and unyielding. "It is the arms panel."
"But it has my legs." Jules remarked.
That sparked another burst of laughter from the two friends. When that subsided, Wells managed to maneuver himself closer to Jules and position himself so he could wrap both arms about the panel. "If I remember correctly, we had bolts holding it in place. It weighs about five hundred pounds."
"Yes. And we both nearly got broken by lifting it."
"Yes. And my wife thanks you for the design."
"As does mine, it gave her relief for almost a month."
They both burst into laughter again.
Finally, Wells stopped. "Do not move, I am going to try lifting it, then shoving it to the right."
"Oh trust me, Wells, move I shall not."
Wells almost laughed again, but when Jules let out another involuntary gasp of pain, the laughter fled from his lips. He strained with all his might, but the panel would not move.
"Well, that is good and proper." Wells finally croaked, gasping for breath.
"Yes. You can't see. I can't walk."
"I have not given up." Wells stubbornly replied.
He slid past Jules. "Can you see the closet door? Is it open or shut?"
"I cannot turn my head that far."
"No problem. I shall see to it myself."
They broke into laughter again, and then subsided as Wells slid to the position of the closet. He felt along the floor for its base, felt its edges, then slowly got to his feet, even though every muscle in his body screamed with pain.
Something made a loud whooshing sound in the back of the Master of the World.
"Wells, I suspect we have another problem brewing."
"As always, you are right, my friend." Wells responded, even as his hand sought the latch of the closet and sprung it. Another miracle. The compartment was whole. He felt the rod within it. He had stored it there from their last trip. It was some kind of artifact they had found on an abandoned version of Earth. Neither could figure out its function, though it generated an enormous amount of chronic energy.
"Have it." Wells grunted, as he allowed himself to slide down to the floor again.
He began to sniff the air. "Smoke."
"Mon Frere, where there is smoke..."
"...There is fire. I know. I know. I'm hurrying as fast as I can."
Well managed to get over to Jules again. He felt around and found a slightly rounded slab of metal that was near the panel fallen on Jules' legs. He slid the rod between the slab and the panel. "I don't know if this is positioned properly. You must let me know if anything is going wrong."
"Trust me; I will be the first to let you know."
They were both silent a long moment, then Wells slowly applied pressure to the rod, which was acting as a fulcrum to moving the panel. He heard grinding and screeching. Was the panel mixed with some other fallen object?
"Ow!" Jules cried out.
Wells started to lower the rod.
"Non, non, Mon Frere. The pain is a good one. Keep on. I can feel my legs loosening."
Wells grunted as he applied more pressure.
There was an explosion in the rear of the ship and the blast wave knocked him to the left. His rod flew from his hands to the right.
Jules cried out as if he had been crushed to death.
Wells recovered himself and scrambled to help Jules, but instead of finding Jules' body, he discovered only a mass of metal. "Jules!" He cried out.
He felt two hands clasp his shoulders and slowly raise him to his feet. "Mon frère." Jules whispered to his dear friend.
They gave each other a long hug, and then Jules turned Wells. "We must hurry while there is an exit from the vessel. As Jules walked, he stumbled on the rod. He started to kick it aside, then thought better of it and stooped to pick it up with his free hand, allowing Wells to lean against him as he did so. Finally, he was able to stand again.
"What is it?"
Jules eyed the rod. "Either our salvation or our destruction."
Another explosion. They were both slammed into a wall.
Jules hurriedly recovered and grabbed Wells to his feet. He used the rod to help push fallen and crushed debris from their path, and then reached the emergency exit. He kicked the control box at the base of it. It had three boxes like such. One at the top. One at the middle and one at the bottom in case someone was unable to reach the other two.
The door made a loud groaning sound and didn't want to open.
"Oh damn it to hell anyway!"
Wells kicked with all his might. His aim was true. The door made a loud protesting sound, and then swung open.
Jules practically flung them to the ground as the Master of the World gave one loud rumbling sound after another. "We must run!"
"I will trust your eyes."
"That is good, for I trust little else."
"Then lean on me, and guide us both."
Jules did so.
Wells bolstered his friend as they both ran from the debris of the broken ship. Its beautiful golden lines of radiant beauty were marred by debris from its crash and from the fires that now raged throughout it. They had gotten about twenty yards away, when a wave of explosions rippled the rough the vessel, sending debris showering them and the land about them.
Jules threw himself and Wells down and covered Wells with his body.
The explosions stopped.
Jules rolled off and gasped for air.
Wells did the same, not because he was relieved, but because Jules had crushed the air from his lungs.
"Safe." Wells said.
"But for how long?"
Jules surveyed the land they had crashed into. It was late. The sun barely peeked above the craggy mountains that ringed in their crash site. On the horizon was a thick forest. It seemed a livable place. And then he saw something move in the forest. It moved temporarily into the light. It was enormous. At least ninety feet in height. Jules could see very long teen in its mouth.
Wells stomach grumbled. "I can't believe I'm hungry at a time like this."
"You're not the only one." Jules whispered.
"Why are you whispering, blast it?" Wells almost hollered.
Jules clapped a hand over his friend's face. "Something is coming our way."
"Something very, very big."
Wells clasped the rod that lay between him and Jules. "Well, worst comes to worse, we can always use this as a club."
"I don't think that's going to work." Jules said as the huge beast stomped towards them, closing the distance with huge steps that covered yards of ground at a time.
Jules let go of Wells. "From the kettle into the fire."
Wells stiffened. "Death yet again?"
"Yes, Mom Frere, it would appear that the Old Man enjoys playing with us."
Wells drew himself to his feet, leaning on the rod. He reached a hand out and Jules took it, and then rose to stand beside him.
"I think I could run now." Jules remarked in a forced casual voice.
"I think our time of running has come to an end."
Jules looked at his friend. "Perhaps so."
Jules grabbed the rod from his friend's grasp, causing him to fall to the ground.
"What kind of madness is this, Jules?"
"The only kind that has ever been our friend." Jules uttered back, his face resolute and fixed. He turned to face the beast, which now towered over the both of them.
"I shall not go out without a fight." Wells uttered, forcing himself to his feet.
Jules nodded. "Then as always."
"We live together. We..."
Jules raised the rod over his shoulder to strike the beast in the face as it opened its massive jaws, revealing row after row of jagged teeth. Its gigantic bloodshot eyes swirled with delight as it eyed its easy snack.
"For love." Jules hollered, and then swung the rod.
It struck the beast in its nose as it reached for them.
The creature gave the two of them a stunned look for a moment, and then it raised itself up on its hind feet and prepared to crush them with its front.
"Farewell, dear friend." Jules said calmly and with great clarity.
"Forever friends." Wells agreed, taking Jules free hand.
"Forever." Jules repeated.
Then as the beast's massive front feet dropped to crush them, the rod in Jules' hand lit up brighter than the sun for a moment. Both men were seared by its intensity. The beast cried out in fear, but continued to press downwards. When its feet had crushed into the bright light, it felt nothing but soil.
It lowered its great head to look at the spot it had crushed. Nothing was there, not even the stick that had struck it. The beast groaned angrily, then turned to retreat back to its forest, where maybe another meal could be found.
Jules stood in the cockpit of the Master of the World, the rod raised before his face. Wells lay at his feet next to the navigation controls.
"Mon Frere. I think dinner has been avoided."
"Where are we? This sounds like..."
"The Master of the World." Jules finished for him.
Jules hurried his friend to the small infirmary in the back and even though he was unsettled still by the abrupt transition to an intact vessel, devoid of any human life, he didn't forget his friend's injuries. He carefully cleaned his friend's face, then his eyes, using medicated solutions to cleanse the cuts and bruises. He had laid his friend down on the small cot there and sat beside him. He placed a strip of thick gauze over his friend's eyes.
Wells fell into a deep sleep, which Jules would not disturb. He only rose the once to check on their navigation headings, then satisfied with them, returned to keep watch on his friend. It must have been many hours later that Wells groaned and rubbed at the gauze over his eyes.
"What the blasted, bloody hell have you put over my vision? I can't see a thing! Bloody hell, Jules!"
Jules pressed a hand to the gauze to stop him from removing it. "It's for your own good, Mon Frere. Your eyes were hurt badly."
"Like bloody hell they were!" Wells said, and then swept Jules' hand and the gauze from his face. He looked at Jules, who gave him a startled look, then smiled. "I can see you are quite disturbed."
"You would be too if you had been through what I had with you." Jules countered.
They both broke into peals of laughter.
When they had landed the Master of the World, their wives were waiting for them. They rushed to them and held them close a long time, saying nothing. Both women were used to such conduct from their men and knew when they were ready; they would speak of what had happened, though they couldn't tell a thing by looking at the state of the Master of the World, which was perfect and untouched by flame or explosion.
That night both men gave their women more attention than usual, but neither wife complained. They loved their men, even though they often times were gone in their explorations. Love is a most bounteous and generous energy, and the love between these four was enough to satisfy them all.
But as both men went to sleep that night, comfortable and warm against their wives, the one thought they had in common was...What had triggered the rod to activate? What had caused the erasure of time itself?
Even though that thought weighed heavily upon both men for a time, they could not hold it for long, for weariness now claimed its own and they descended into the blissful ignorance of sleep and dreams well earned.
Cold Light by Capt. S.P. Meek, an audio story from Astounding Stories, March 1930 Human body splintered into sharp fragments like broken glass.
S. P. Meek From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia (Redirected from S.P. Meek) Sterner St. Paul Meek (April 8, 1894 in Chicago, Illinois – June 10, 1972) was an American military chemist, early science fiction author, and children's author. He published much of his work first as Capt. S.P. Meek, then, briefly, as Major S.P. Meek and, after 1933, as Col. S. P. Meek. He also published one story as Sterner St. Paul.
When the United States entered World War I in 1917, Meek joined the military as a chemist and ordnance expert. He served as Chief, Small Arms Ammunition Research, in 1923-1926, and Chief Publications Officer, Ordnance Dept., in 1941-1945. He retired a colonel in 1947, at which point he became a full-time writer.
Writing career Meek sold his first fiction story, "Taming Poachers", to Field and Stream, where it appeared in September 1928. Between early 1929 and January 1933, he published over 20 science fiction stories and short novels in pulp science fiction magazines like Astounding Science Fiction and Amazing Stories, most of them in his popular Dr. Bird and Operative Carnes series. Meek left the field in early 1933, with only one further science fiction story published in 1939.
Like many early pulp science fiction writers, Meek used fiction to give detailed descriptions of current and projected scientific advances. He utilized many contemporary science fiction tropes, e.g. the notion that atoms were miniaturized solar systems in his stories "Submicroscopic" and "Awlo of Ulm".
Meek quickly became popular with pulp magazine readers and was eagerly sought out by editors. In the first issue of Astounding Science Fiction in 1930, its editor Harry Bates listed Meek among "some of the finest writers of fantasy in the world", alongside Murray Leinster, Ray Cummings and others. However, Meek's stories were crudely executed and the higher standards introduced with the Golden Age of Science Fiction soon made them of strictly historical interest. Science fiction writer and critic Samuel R. Delany later called Meek's writing "unbelievably bad"
After leaving science fiction, Meek published over twenty children's books between 1932 and 1956, starting with Jerry, the Adventures of an Army Dog, usually about dogs or horses. Many of these books drew on Meek's experiences in the military.
Pat: The Story of a Seeing Eye Dog, written in 1947, became a much-loved children's story.
Works Science fiction
Who will be in jeopardy today? Cliffhanger endings. Scary stuff. Chapts. 5 & 6 of Buck Rogers, Classic Golden Age Movie Serial.
"Dying to the Light" Find crimes enough, love enough, adventure enough, monsters & action enough to satisfy any appetite you might present.
Dying to the Light"A Sherlock Holmes Collection"
From the Baker Street Universe
By John Pirillo
A collection of short stories from The Baker Street Universe that center around the exciting, sometimes paranormal, or science fiction adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. Whether they're investigating monsters or human monsters, there's always adventure, romance, excitement and danger in a parallel Victorian London where authors and their creations are all alive at the same time.
Purchase now at Amazon and Smashwords for 99cents!
Dying to the Light is homage to Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, but because the stories take place in an alternate reality, the Baker Street Universe, you will also find many other fun and exciting characters. Some are famous from literature. Some are the author's own. But all are fun to write and imagine. Oh, and did you know there's monster. Lots of monsters.
Enjoy this collection of fabulous stories for only 99cents at both Amazon and Smashwords!
You will find crimes enough, love enough, adventure enough, and action enough to satisfy any appetite you might present. But most of all you'll have a joy ride of pleasure with hours of reading about some of the most exciting people of all: Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson.
Hours of reading pleasure can be yours for just 99 cents at Amazon and Smashwords!
Battling a Genie is one thing, but a horde of demons...well, that could be a bit tough. The Magic Lamp. A Cartoon Story by John Pirillo
The Magic Lamp
"A Cartoon Story"
by John Pirillo
"Stuff it!" Johnnie told the Genie hovering over Aladdin's lamp. "I am not going to build you a duplex inside that ugly thing."
The Genie waxed his long mustaches with wet fingers he had just dipped in wax and gave Johnnie a loathsome smile. "It's the deal. Either you build me the duplex, or I vanish your girlfriends for the next thousand years!"
"You can't do that!" He screamed at the ugly being who pretended to be a nice man. "You're friggin' crazy!"
"No. I am just...me."
The Genie vanished into his ugly lamp and it shook around a bit.
Cartoon glanced at Johnnie, where he stood in the antiquities store, still stunned by what had happened. "You can't let him do that to Koomay and Laurie."
"I won't, but I just don't get it. I never touched any comic book with a genie in it. Never. Not in this life or any other!" He exclaimed angrily, his face flushed with anger.
"Maybe." Cartoon said soothingly. "But are you absolutely certain?"
Johnnie gave her a scrutinizing look. "You're up to something."
"Always." She said with the glint of a smile on her lips.
"From the day you tricked me in to rescuing you as a young girl in that high rise fire, you've been manipulating me."
He started to explode again, and then caught himself. "Okay. Mostly for the better, but you've never once....once explained the rules of this power I've been given."
Cartoon picked up the lamp.
"Ouch! Don't be so rough!" The Genie cried out from inside.
The Shop Owner glanced over at the two arguing, and then came over. "Is there a problem?"
He said it to Cartoon, thinking that Johnnie was abusing her. He hated abusive people. His father had been abusive to his mother and he was ready to knock anyone down if they even hinted at such. He stood over Johnnie by a good foot. He was an extremely tall man, and there was something oddly familiar about him, though he couldn't place it at the time.
"No problem. We'll take this lamp. Just a bit of a disagreement as to...how." She said with an amused look on her face.
Johnnie was stewing with anger at the way he was being manipulated, but inside of himself he knew it wasn't what it appeared to be. It never was. He just hated always being on the wrong end of the eight ball.
"Yeah. How much?"
The Shop Owner gave him a blank look.
"I said we'd take it." Johnnie said again, starting to lose his temper. He really needed to learn how to meditate. The stress was starting to really scramble his brain and his temperament.
"Take what, sir?"
Johnnie gestured to the lamp in Cartoon's hand. The Shop Owner looked that way. "She does have lovely hands, but you don't need my permission to take them."
He laughed, thinking his joke was quite amusing.
Johnnie slouched on the sofa, his brains scrambling to figure out what had just happened in that old store. He could clearly see the lamp. It would shake every once in awhile on the coffee table and he could even hear the Genie taking a shower. Taking a shower! Of all the ungodly things to do inside a lamp.
"I can't build a duplex." Johnnie muttered angrily to himself.
He felt a pair of arms slip around his neck, and Cartoon nuzzles his right ear. "Sure you can."
She came around and sat next to him, sliding against his right shoulder with the warmth of her glowing body. She usually dimmed the glow in public, otherwise people would wise up, or be extremely frightened, but sometimes she'd let it all hang out, like when they were battling zombies, werewolves and vampires.
"What's really eating you?" She asked finally, after giving him a chance to say it for himself.
He slowly turned to look into her eyes. "Rules."
"You're stubborn, Johnnie. You know that, don't you?"
She smiled. "When I need to be."
"Rules!" He asked again, more firmly.
She got up and began pacing the small living room. "When you saved me, you allowed your genetics to blend with my own, with my universe. All the laws that is true there are now latent within you."
"You mean you can turn into any cartoon character you want?" He asked, a bit surprised at her answer.
"No." She answered sadly. "For some reason it only works one direction. You can become us, but we can never become you."
"Why do you think that is?"
"Our ancestors when they first slipped into that universe were like yours. Desperate and hunted by creatures from your worst nightmares."
"Very." She answered. "We figured out a way to open a doorway between the universes. At first we were frightened when our bodies became light bodies, but then we got used to it. And as we did, we learned to blend with the other cartoon beings that dwelled within the realms."
"Superman, Batman, Daffy Duck...?"
She laughed. "No, silly. Those are your creations. Not ours. The cartoon world has rules just like your own and those who lived there before us were a kind and loving race. They never knew violence or despair. They welcomed us with open arms and hearts."
Johnnie held a hand up. "So how come every time I draw upon your world's energies everything gets so..."
"Screwed up?" She answered with a giggle.
"Yeah that too."
She gave him a somber look, her eyes piercing his own with a stare he hadn't seen before. For a moment he felt like he stood on the precipice of Eternity, everything gone around him, but the vastness of the Universe, and then that strange feeling vanished, replaced by the warmth and security of her closeness and her voice.
"We don't control Creation, anymore than you here of Earth can. Its rules align with a Higher Source."
Johnnie rolled his eyes, but accepted her words for the moment, until he could consider the better. "Well, time to get to work, I guess."
He stood up and headed for the front door.
He turned back. His face lit up. "Oh, my God! I know why I recognized that Shop Owner. He's the same man who I met as a child when my parents went shopping in his store. At the time I didn't think anything of the illustrated book he pressed into my hands. When my parents weren't listening he said. I can still hear them as clear as day, someday this will be important to you. Remember that."
At that given moment the magic lamp began to shake and smoke. Cartoon stood up and hurriedly backed away from it. Johnnie put an arm around her shoulders.
"I remember now, Cartoon. I remember."
The Genie hissed out of the lantern in a huge cloud of magical dust, each fist clenching a gigantic scimitar. "Prepare for battle!"
Johnnie turned to Cartoon. "Ain't it always the same? Teen finds cartoon, cartoon finds boy, everything becomes all crazy and there's battles and cries of despair and the hero has to save the day."
Cartoon laughed. "Come on, Hero. Afraid of a little adventure?"
"Not this time." Johnnie said, waving a hand. A gigantic scimitar shone in his left fist. His clothing turned into silk garments with a bow over his right shoulder and a loop of rope at his waist, caught in a red sash.
"Lead on, Genie!"
The Genie gave Johnnie a fierce look. "You will build my duplex!"
"Okay. Okay. If you say so. So what's the problem?"
At that same moment the front door vanished and they were staring into another world where giant demons were storming a palace. Civilians were screaming and running for their lives.
"Gotcha!" Johnnie said, and then he and Cartoon ran through the door opening and vanished into the world of the Genie.
The Genie roared behind them, and charged through like a gigantic diesel engine truck blasting its horn. It soared past Johnnie and lit into the first swarm of giant demons. "For Baghdad and the Nile! It cried.
"Ah, that's so corny!" Johnnie sighed as he and Cartoon rushed the same swarm.
Cartoon didn't have time to answer, because Johnnie had to hack at a giant demon that was about to clobber them with a mace the size of a small SUV.
Such was the life of a Comic Book Commando!