BestsellerBound Short Story Anthology Volume 3 Read online

BestsellerBound Short Story Anthology

  Volume Three

  Copyright © 2011 BestsellerBound.com/Darcia Helle

  All rights to this anthology are reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the authors. This book contains works of fiction. The characters and situations are products of each author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Rights to the individual works contained in this anthology are owned by the submitting authors and/or publishers and each has permitted the story’s use in this collection. Individual copyright information is listed with each work.

  Cover design by Jaleta Clegg

  Contents:

  Winter Blues by Maria Savva

  Skins by Jess C. Scott

  Whisperer by Jaleta Clegg

  The Wars Within by Jaime McDougall

  The Old Bookshop by Julie Elizabeth Powell

  Scale of a Dragon by J. Michael Radcliffe

  Counting Blessings Along the Horseshoe Canyon by Sharon E. Cathcart

  Eve & Ian’s New Love Life by Cynthia Meyers-Hanson

  Laundry Day by Stacy Juba

  The Day the Lights Went Out by Cliff Ball

  Winter Blues

  by Maria Savva

  Copyright © Maria Savva

  For as far back as she could remember, Adele had suffered, on and off, from a lack of motivation, feelings of anxiety, tiredness, mood swings, and a general sense of depression. Years ago, her doctor had thought she was run-down and advised her to take a few weeks off work. It didn’t help. The following year, her doctor said she could be suffering from a virus, then the year after that he said she might be a manic-depressive; he prescribed some pills: they didn’t work. Over the years, she had been for countless examinations and tests, scans and X-rays, all of which revealed that nothing was wrong with her. Finally,Adele was diagnosed as a S.A.D. syndrome sufferer: “Seasonal Affective Disorder”.

  ‘What does that mean?’ she asked her G.P., bracing herself for the news that she had a terminal illness.

  ‘It is quite a common condition these days, I’m seeing more and more cases of SAD syndrome,’ replied Dr. Ivory, as he typed something into his computer. ‘It means that when there is less daylight, you are prone to feeling a little down. So, in the winter months you are not as motivated as you are in the summer. Looking back at your history, all your anxiety related episodes have occurred during the winter months. It’s the lack of sun; that’s what causes your bouts of depression.’ He smiled sympathetically.

  A sense of relief washed over her. There was nothing really wrong with her; well, nothing that a bit of sun couldn’t cure.

  ‘So, if I go on holiday to a sunny country, that should help?’ she asked, thoughts of beaches and crystal clear blue seas filling her mind.

  ‘Well, yes, that would be a short-term fix,’ said the doctor, ‘but you need to concentrate on finding something that will alleviate your symptoms all year round. With the British weather, this type of syndrome can be prevalent throughout the year, which is what makes it hard to diagnose.’

  Adele wondered if she could ask for a villa in Spain on the NHS, a smile played on her lips as the thought crossed her mind.

  ‘But it’s not as bad as it sounds,’ continued Dr. Ivory, studying some notes on his desk. ‘There are some preventative measures you can try which have been effective for some of my patients. If you make sure you get out and about in the daylight as much as possible during the winter months, you’ll find that you feel much better. Some people need more natural light than others. It’s the way your brain responds to light. Artificial lighting, like the type we use to light our houses and offices can actually have a detrimental effect.’

  ‘But I work in an office,’ said Adele, frowning. ‘How can I get out and about during the day? And by the time I go home it’s dark already.’

  ‘Well, I can see how that could be a problem; being indoors for so many hours a day, going to work in the dark mornings at this time of year and going home in the dark might in fact be contributing to the way you feel. However, there are lights you can buy now: sun lamps. They are specially made so that they give out a natural light and can make you feel brighter.’

  After returning from her G.P.’s surgery, Adele thought about what she had just been told and it began to make sense. It was all beginning to fit together like bits of a puzzle that had been scattered about but were now locking tightly into place. Although most people are happier on sunny days, Adele was aware this went much deeper for her. She began to notice that the sun had to be out for her to feel happy; and her symptoms had been getting increasingly worse. Last winter she had become a virtual recluse. She had made up various excuses as to why she could not attend Christmas parties or meet up with friends. She had locked herself away at home, hardly venturing out even to the shops to buy food. She told everyone who phoned her that she was sick with flu and that they should stay away in case they caught it too.

  This year, Adele was determined to make a change; things would be different. The sun lamps which her doctor had told her about were very expensive, but she bought two; if they could stop her “sad” syndrome from rearing its head, they were worth every penny. She put one of the sun lamps in her bedroom, so that she could switch it on first thing each morning as soon as she woke up. The other lamp, she put in her office, to help cheer herself up during the working day. She slowly began to feel a bit better, as if she had more energy.

  Adele began to read up about S.A.D. One Internet article had said that S.A.D. sufferers often felt more cheerful around Christmas time when streets and houses were decorated with lights of different colours. The lights and decorations in bright, vibrant colours, all helped to lift the spirits and alleviate feelings of gloom and doom.

  She bought plenty of decorations: gold, silver, red, blue, green, yellow; glittering balls, sparkling stars, and shimmering tinsel. Strings of multicoloured lights now decorated all of her rooms at home and even outside the house, to welcome her home after a tough day at work.

  ‘But it’s only October,’ commented her friend and work colleague, Julie. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit early for Christmas decorations?’

  Adele explained everything to Julie over a hot cup of tea.

  ‘Well, now I understand your reasons, I’m all for it,’ said Julie. ‘I wish you’d told me about this “sad” syndrome earlier. I really believed you were ill last year. I must say I am disappointed that you were feeling so depressed and that you felt unable to confide in me; it makes me feel like a bad friend. Promise me that in the future you’ll let me know when you’re feeling down.’

  ‘I promise,’ said Adele.

  Julie kept a close eye on Adele throughout the winter months; concerned about her state of mind, looking out for any signs of depression.

  Christmas came and went and Adele was able to enjoy it with her family and friends. She felt like a different person, bubbly and joyful, full of life. When it came to Twelfth Night, she did not want to take down the decorations. She asked Julie for advice.

  ‘I think you should leave them up until the weather improves,’ said Julie, thoughtfully.

  ‘But won’t that bring me bad luck?’ asked Adele.

  ‘I didn’t know you were superstitious,’ said Julie.

  So, Adele left the decorations up throughout most of January, and far from feeling as if she had bad luck she continued to feel optimistic about life and was hardly ever down in the dumps; it
was as if her S.A.D. syndrome had been finally conquered. Her whole life had been turned around thanks to a few colourful strips of tinsel and bright Christmas lights; if only she’d known about this years ago.

  Towards the end of January, Adele decided to throw a “Taking-down-the-decorations” party. She invited her family, friends and colleagues from work. They all had great fun pulling down the hundreds of sparkling lights, trimmings and embellishments, drinking wine and listening to music.

  ‘Your house looks a bit boring now,’ commented Julie, as she left the party.

  ‘Yes, it does, but I think the decorations have served their purpose for this year.’ Adele smiled.

  A few days later, Adele didn’t turn up for work. Julie phone her.

  ‘I’ve got flu,’ said Adele.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll bring you some soup later this evening after work.’

  ‘No, don’t. I think you should keep away in case you catch flu.’

  ‘I won’t catch it,’ said Julie, ‘I’ve already had flu this year, remember?’

  ‘Well, don’t come over, Julie, I’ll probably be asleep.’

  Almost a week later, Adele was still off work. Julie decided to pay her a visit. After she had knocked at the front door a few times with no response, she became concerned. She called Adele’s number from her mobile phone as she stood outside the door, peering through the front window for any sign of movement in the house.

  ‘I can’t come to the door, Julie. I’m not feeling well,’ said the little voice on the other end of the phone line.

  ‘Have you been to the doctor? We’re all worried about you at work,’ said Julie.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, the doctor said I’ll be fine in a few days,’ said Adele, unconvincingly.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘I’m just run-down,’ said Adele. ‘The doctor says I should get some rest. I’ll be back at work when I’m feeling better.’

  ‘It sounds like this “sad” syndrome might have returned.’ Julie’s brow furrowed. ‘I’ve been thinking that maybe we took the decorations down too soon.’

  ‘No. I wish I’d taken them down a lot sooner,’ said Adele, grumpily.

  ‘But you’re obviously feeling under the weather and it’s been cold and grey these past two weeks.’

  ‘I’m feeling low, but it’s not because of my S.A.D.,’ came the reply.

  ‘Well, let me in, so we can talk about it.’

  Julie sat next to Adele on the sofa in the lounge.

  ‘It all started last Tuesday,’ explained Adele, her head resting on her hands as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees. ‘And I’ve been feeling depressed ever since.’

  ‘Why? What happened?’

  Adele sighed and leaned back on the sofa, still unable to meet her friend’s eyes. She fiddled with her nails as she spoke: ‘Well, as you know, I’ve had decorations up, including lots and lots of Christmas lights indoors and outdoors, for the past three months... and my sun lamps. Remember I bought extra ones for the lounge and kitchen last month?’

  Julie nodded and shrugged her shoulders. ‘What has that got to do with your mood? I thought they were supposed to help.’

  ‘Last Tuesday I got my electricity bill,’ said Adele, her face glum.

  ***

  About the Author:

  Maria Savva is a lawyer and author from London. She travels on the London Underground by day and then, by night, writes stories about the people she sees on there... Of course, her imagination likes to add a little extra. You can read excerpts and find links to purchase her stories, by visiting her website: https://www.mariasavva.com

  ###

  Skins

  by Jess C. Scott

  Copyright © Jess C. Scott

  Skins features “Laer,” the dark elf antagonist from The Darker Side of Life (the second installment in Jess’s Cyberpunk Elven Trilogy). Hence, there’s a little bit of dark fantasy thrown into this story.

  This is an incident that occurred in his younger days...

  P.S. The interior décor in this story is all real.

  “Welcome to Paradise!” Aleksandra Nikolic sailed into the main sitting room of the $30-million yacht she and her husband had recently purchased.

  Really? 15-year old Laer looked around at one of the dwellings his good friend’s relatives called “home.”

  “Nice crib, huh,” Stefan murmured.

  “Don’t speak that way,” Aleksandra said sharply. She turned around, striking a pose in her impeccable Carolina Herrera gown. “You don’t come from the ghetto.”

  Stefan didn’t argue with his step aunt.

  Laer nervously ran a hand through his spiky hair. He wasn’t quite sure how to politely put across that the lavishness was quite, quite suffocating.

  The two teenage boys stayed close to each other, seeking comfort in each other’s presence. Both of them had come from backgrounds that were vastly different from the world of the super-rich.

  Aleksandra’s husband, Andre, gave a quick nod and smile to the boys as he continued chatting over the phone with one of his lawyers. Customs officials had just seized several trophies made from the skins of endangered animals from the couple’s Miami beachfront estate. The discovery of the exotic skins had resulted in a $30,000 fine, a fee which his lawyer was working on reducing.

  The yacht, named the Mystère, also contained a host of similar trophies.

  Aleksandra trotted out statistics like a shopping list, running through the various materials on the walls and floors as they went along. “That’s bamboo, that’s oak, that’s eucalyptus, that’s crocodile…”

  Laer was getting giddy from the zig-zag pattern of zebra-skinned beddings. There was a jaguar skin rug, complete with the head, open mouth crying out in perpetual silent pain. The tiger and lion heads on one side of the wall eyed the Mystère’s guests too, with their cold lifeless eyes forever frozen in time.

  Laer leaned against the dining table for some balance when he saw a cigarette holder made from python skin, next to a cigar box wrapped in elephant hide.

  “Andre is spending $10 million on a gallery for his world-class collection of ivory,” Stefan had mentioned to Laer earlier that week.

  Laer had heard of the Nikolics’s taste for collecting exotic animal skin clothing and furniture, though he questioned whether Stefan had been telling the truth or grossly exaggerating. It was nauseating to discover that Stefan had not embellished any facts at all.

  “Andre had a strong idea of creating something…modern,” Aleksandra explained to the boys. “He said he wanted both details and clean lines. It’s genius.”

  She put a hand out to the walls of one room, which were covered in ghostly white stingray hides, while the walls in the next room were covered in hand-stitched calf’s leather.

  The main deck featured two Michel Haillard chairs made from alligator hides and sienna-hued horns from a deer-like animal called the kudu.

  “I love beauty,” Aleksandra yattered on, “and I don’t understand ugliness in fashion, so I admire all the people who are making this world more beautiful.”

  “Beautiful,” Laer repeated absent-mindedly, taking in the gruesome décor. Please explain, how spilling the blood of animals for vanity is beautiful?

  Aleksandra took the indifferent silence that chilled his heart as speechless admiration.

  When no one was looking, Laer tested if his magic could work on the high seas by conjuring a basic flame spell in the palm of his hand. The pale blue flame lit up in his hand without any trouble.

  Laer’s boyish good looks contradicted the seething rage hidden below the surface.

  Amidst all the carnage he had thus witnessed in what the Nikolics termed “luxurious details,” he knew which one made the biggest impression on him. It was the exotic Michel Haillard horned chairs covered in crocodile skin with the tails that slunk out onto the floor, like the distended tongues often seen in persons hanged on the gallows.

  “While most me
ga-yachts are ‘vulgar’ statements of wealth and power, the interior design of the Mystère was designed to be in harmony with the sea and nature,” Aleksandra went on. “This boat has elegance and intelligence. It is not trying to show the money.”

  Laer’s attention was fixed on the crocodile-skinned chairs. He thought he saw one part of the chair rear back and take the form of the crocodile’s head, as he heard the screams and cries of the animal as it was bludgeoned and skinned alive. The animal’s eyes were glistening.

  The vivid image played out in Laer’s mind. No faking it. Those crocodile tears are real.

  “Do you like animals?” Aleksandra asked. She admired the trophies on the wall when her teenage guests didn’t answer. “I do—nothing screams wild and luxe like exotic animal hides.”

  Laer was close to throwing up, and it wasn’t because of the ocean waves.

  “It’s…a…abuse,” he managed to stammer.

  Aleksandra tossed her golden honey blonde hair back and tilted her chin up slightly, observing Laer from the tip of her nose. She gave a little shrug and a cold smile. “It isn’t animal abuse if the animal is dead.”

  But that isn’t the case. A blinding anguish scorched Laer’s mind and seared his soul. You bloody well know it!

  “I have a true passion for exotic-skin footwear and fashion accessories.” Aleksandra was proud of her fashion sense, as proud as she was of the floating paradise she and her husband loved to show off and throw parties on. “I love alligator and crocodile shoes and boots, belts, and wallets, as well as luggage, bags and furniture. Eel-skin is nice, ostrich as well, and stingray, sure...but my favorite is real, proper, sea turtle skin. My custom boots made of sea turtle belly hide—with a lambskin lining for summer and detachable mink lining for winter—is one of the crown jewels in my footwear collection. I can show it to you later.”

  Aleksandra had a look her perfectly pedicured feet, before adding, “The bar lounge in the Mystère—bar stools, tables and lounge furniture—is upholstered entirely of alligator belly skin. I was included in every step of the design!”