Plugs

Trent Walters, poetry editor at A&A, has a chapbook, Learning the Ropes, from Morpo Press.

Read Daniel Braum’s story Mystic Tryst at Farrgo’s Wainscot #8.

Jason Fischer has a story appearing in Jack Dann’s new anthology Dreaming Again.

Jonathan Wood’s story “Notes on the Dissection of an Imaginary Beetle” from Electric Velocipede 15/16 is available online.

Archive for the ‘Daniel Braum’ Category

The School of Seven Bells: Prelude

Monday, July 26th, 2010

“I don’t think the octopus likes you very much,” I said to Terrence.

“Of course it does,” he said.

Terrence was always embroiled in some crazy adventure. He was smart enough and rich enough to make his impossible schemes happen but he certainly didn’t have time for a pet.

The octopus sat in a massive tank in the living room of Terrence’s Hampton’s estate. Flags, a Ouija board, waterproof maps, and chess pieces littered the gravel and coral. Next to the tank was Terrence’s big work table, which today was full odd bells, the largest one two foot high and wrought from iron.

“Isn’t that the Octopus that guessed the outcome of every world come match,” I asked.

“Yeah,” Terrence said. What a waste of money. “It’s been wrong on every other thing I’ve asked of it.”

“You could try being nicer to it.”

“Forget about the octopus, Doug,” he said. “I’m leading an expedition to find the School of Seven Bells. Once I pin down the last of these troubling locations, I want you to come with me.”

The School of Seven Bells, a mythical band of mystic pickpockets, was folklore. Besides being the name of one of our favorite local bands, they did not exist.

“Stop being such a sulking grump,” Terrence said.

 He rang the iron bell.  The sound was hollow and disappointing. After a second, shadows of butterflies danced across the table. Nothing cast them. The octopus jetted to the corner of the tank nearest us and looked as interested as an octopus could.

“Neat trick, huh,” Terrence said. “All the bells have neat tricks. But I finally figured out the Seven Bells aren’t bells at all. Not at least those kind of bells. They are the seven steps to take to find the Prince of Peace.”

I hated when he went off on supernatural mumbo jumbo. I much preferred his expeditions for shipwrecks and buried treasure.

As we spoke the octopus was spelling out “Die Terrence” on the Ouija board.

“Seriously, Terrence,” I said. “I don’t think the octopus likes you.”

Just then Terrence’s butler wheeled a library cart full of old tomes into the room distracting him from any reply.

The octopus began arranging the items in its tank. It marked locations on the map with pawns and spelled out names on the board. It was telling us the School of Seven Bells was in Argentina. It was marking dozens of specific locations. Of what I couldn’t be sure.

But I was right about one thing. The octopus didn’t like having Terrence around after all. Argentina was halfway around the world and we were going to be gone a long time.

 

-TO BE CONTINUED-

PIRATES OF THE CARRIBEAN: IN: THE PERIL OF PLUNDER

Tuesday, June 1st, 2010

Captain James and the Red Cassandra bore down on a merchant vessel reported to be carrying a King’s ransom in Spanish gold. Ever since they had retrofitted Cassandra with parts of the strange ship that fell from the sky, the seas were full of easy pickings and pirate life was good. The royal navies of Europe were no match for Red Cassandra’s new armor and firepower. James knocked back a swig of rum. His pirate ship was invincible.


He was almost ashamed at how easy plundering had become. Why had the occupants of the flying ship abandoned it? And where were they now?


The merchant vessel drifted into range. Easy. Too easy, James thought.


Ten navy ships crested the horizon. He could have given the order to fire on them but he wanted them to be close enough to see.

He waited till they approached and then gave the order.

Fire !

Beams of red light shot from Red Cassandra’s new cannons. The navy ships wooden hulls were neatly sliced in two with a series of satisfying hisses. Then the seas were alive with the sounds of panicked men, burning wood, and frigates filling with water on their way to Davy Jones’ locker.


“Aw, that was too easy, Captain,” first mate Rudolph said. “At least they could have fired on us. I like the sound of cannon balls bouncing harmlessly off Cassandra’s hull.”


As Rudolph spoke a shadow fell over them. The sky was cloudless and the rest of the sea was bathed in afternoon sun. James looked up. A giant sphere of shining metal hovered above.


Cassandra’s cannons shook in their casings and lifted into the air, ripping planks from the deck along with them. The new hull plating followed into the sky and disappeared into a hatch in the belly of the floating craft.


The strange spherical ship rose into the heavens.


James ordered the Cassandra to sail back into hiding. The navy was defeated today but they’d be back. He knew without their new weapons and armor the days of easy pillaging were numbered.


James watched the flying craft until he could see it no more.


Who were they, he wondered. Was life the same for a pirate up in the sky? Maybe somewhere, among the stars, there still was a place where a man could be free.

-End-

« Older Posts | Newer Posts »