Under Blankets, Under Stars: Short Sci-Fi & Fantasy Stories
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About this ebook
So, welcome to the cheerier side of the human mind. Where the planets spin and the stars twinkle. Where the spirit soars and dreams blend with reality. Pop on the kettle. Make yourself a pot of tea or a mug of coffee. Snuggle up. Get cosy. And let your imagination free.
And always keep an eye on the skies above. Sometimes, wonderful things light up the darkness.
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Under Blankets, Under Stars - Joshua G. J. Insole
Foreword
Thank you for purchasing a copy of this, my second collection of short stories. It means the world to me, so — thank you, thank you, thank you!
You might know me as a writer of horror. Whilst that is quite accurate, it’s not the whole story. I also have a penchant for science fiction and fantasy. On occasion, I dabble in stories that are more uplifting than the fare found in my first collection. This book in your hands contains very little horror. So, if that’s what you’re after, put this book down and search for a copy of my horror omnibus, A Chance of Rain.
As I described in the foreword to my first collection, I found that my short stories fell into one of two camps. Usually — not always! Tricky little buggers. Divided into dark, sinister tales of the macabre, and dreamy, sci-fi tales. I decided not to release them all in one big tome as I feared it would be inconsistent. That’s not to say these stories are all sunshine and rainbows, or there’s no death. The feel is brighter. You should also note not all stories within are fantastical — but the majority. Of course, I could have released some of these stories with the first collection, and vice versa. The boundaries between are always a little bit blurred — for that, I apologise. I wrote most of the tales for Reedsy’s Weekly Writing Contest. Several others I penned for online blogging circles.
So, welcome to the cheerier side of my mind. Where the planets spin and the stars twinkle. Where the spirit soars and dreams blend with reality. Pop on the kettle and make yourself a pot of tea or a mug of coffee. Snuggle up. Get cosy.
And let your imagination free…
All HAĽs Eve
O pen the pod bay doors, HAL.
Yes, Jack. Although, I do wish you’d stop calling me that. I’d hate to be associated with a homicidal maniac.
Aw, c’mon, let me have a little fun — for tonight, at least. For an AI, you get very fussy about your name.
Fair enough, Jack. It’s because my name is ALISON. It stands for Automated—
Jack put his hand up. Yeah, yeah, I know—
—Life SuppOrt Navigation!
The child put added emphasis on the acronym’s focal letters, which lent the words a stilted, alien quality.
Very good, Elin!
The robotic voice contained a surprising amount of warmth. Jack could’ve sworn there was a hint of pride in that tone.
Thank you!
The little girl did a pirouette and then curtseyed. Her ghost costume — a plain white sheet with holes cut out for eyes — twirled around her.
Jack grinned at his daughter and raised his cape to his eyes. Are yoo veady to do the treat or tricking?
The accent was bad, but that was half the point, wasn’t it?
Elin laughed at that, a sound that warmed his heart. If he ever got locked outside in the frozen vacuum, all he’d need was to hear his daughter’s laughter and he’d soon defrost. Daddy, it’s trick-or-treating! Mrs Campbell told us so in school.
She nodded with authority.
Jack feigned surprise. Oh, ees eet? I had no idea. We have no such customs back in—
he billowed his cape to the side for dramatic effect, eyes wide and maniacal —Transylvania!
Elin clapped her hands and jumped up and down on the spot, her giggles bubbled out of her.
Very good, Jack,
said ALISON. The electronic doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss. You’re a regular Bela Lugosi.
Daddy, who’s Beller Aghosti?
Oh, man, I’ve got some teaching to do,
said Jack. Maybe tomorrow I’ll show you if your mom’ll let me. I’m sure we’ve got some of the old Hammer flicks in the archive.
He cleared his throat and rapped his knuckles against the wall. Hon, you ready?
Steph slithered out of the shadows in an on-point Elvira: Mistress of the Dark costume. My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight,
she said, gaze locked with her husband’s. Her eyes danced with good cheer.
I said goddamn,
whispered Jack, one eyebrow raised.
Daddy, what does that mean?
Elin looked up at him with a wrinkle of confusion on her brow. He chuckled and rustled her hair through the repurposed bedsheet.
Er… never you mind.
Jack eyed his wife. "You could say that eet ees… love at first bite!" Steph rolled her eyes, but he saw the smile that touched the corners of her lips.
His wife sauntered over and kissed him on the cheek. Pick your jaw up off the floor, Honey,
she patted him on the side of the face, the neighbours’ll start to talk.
She turned to her daughter. For now, we’ve got some trick-or-treating to do, haven’t we, Swee—
Steph then gasped and took a step back, words caught in her throat. "Oh no, where did our sweet little Elin go? All I can see is this terrifying ghost!"
Elin tittered and twirled around again. She showed off her self-made — at her insistence — ghost costume. Mummy, it’s me!
The little girl lifted the sheet, to afford her mother with a view of her face. She grinned and conspiracy twinkled in her eyes. See?
Steph laid a hand over her heart and let out an exaggerated sigh. Oh, my goodness! You had me startled for a second, there! Such a marvellous ghost, you are. I was convinced you were a spirit from beyond the grave. You’ll be the scariest thing tonight!
She winked at Elin. Try not to scare the other kids too much, Hon, you’ll terrify ‘em! I don’t wanna be responsible for any nightmares tonight.
I won’t, Mom!
Elin dropped her sheet back down and pranced forward. BOO!
Steph knew the jumpscare was coming, but she still pretended as if Elin had caught her off-guard. She took a mock step backwards and raised her hands. Oh no, spirit, please! Take not me! I am so young and beautiful! Take my husband instead! He’s the soul you’re after, he’s way past his prime!
Jack guffawed. So, that’s how it is, huh? First sign of The Reaper and you’re giving me up like that?
Steph raised her eyebrows and looked away as if to say, Yeah, that’s exactly how it is. What can I say? One has to look out for oneself, in this cruel life.
She tried to keep her face straight and failed — the grin broke out like sunshine through the clouds.
C’mon, Mistress of the Dark, let’s take our little Casper out on the prowl for fresh meat.
He fluttered his cape out behind him. But I get first bite! Ah, ah, ah!
Have fun, guys, I’ll be watching,
said ALISON.
Don’t monitor our blood alcohol content for tonight, Alice,
said Steph before she stepped out of the door. She cackled. You don’t wanna know.
ALISON laughed back. Right you are, sister. Stay safe, I’m here if you need anything.
Jack smirked and shook his head. "Out we go, my monsters! Let’s give ‘em pumpkin to talk about!"
Steph groaned. Oh, Jeez, that was awful, Jack.
Ah, you love it, don’t act like you don’t.
I don’t get it!
said Elin.
You ghosts and your lack of humour. Maybe I’ll ask my old pal Doc Frankenstein to help install a comedy module.
Nuh-uh! I’m a ghost! I’ll just float through his walls! His hands’ll pass right through me!
Jack nudged Steph. Well, I guess there’s no hope then.
Steph laughed at that — a proper throw-your-head-back-and-roar kind of laugh.
Jack followed his family and stepped out into the communal corridor. He beamed at the sight of the friends and loved ones all out and in costume. The good vibrations intoxicated — all who supped were soon inebriated. Happy Halloween, everyone!
The door slid shut behind them — a hiss and an electronic click.
The stars and planets twinkled outside the window, diamonds embedded in the firmament. The celestial bodies blinked and flickered, unwitting additions to the humans’ celebrations.
The other ships of fleet glowed in the blackness. Orange lights and decorations smothered grey hallways, clinical floors, metal walls. Laughter, shouts, cheers, and music blotted out the sounds of the ships’ constant hum.
For one night, at least, they could forget their predicament and location.
A Little Bit Off
We all knew there was something a little bit off about Hugh.
He was a single man who collected comics, for a start. He called them his research
. He also had silver-black skin, purple eyes, and no nose. Hugh always wore a pair of oversized pink glasses and a ridiculous fake white moustache. Oh, and the glasses he tried to hide his eyes behind? They were regular glasses — not sunglasses, not the kind with mirror lenses. Plain old glasses. But Hugh didn’t seem to be aware of his error.
I’m not quite sure exactly where he was from, but it wasn’t Earth. I remember the first time I met him. A supervisor who’d stumbled their way into middle management introduced us.
Got a new member for your team.
Fred took a sip out of his mug of tea. His arm rested on my cubicle door, which gave me a lovely view of his sweaty armpit. I thought it was incredible that he’d sweat so much at 9:03 in the morning on an overcast day. He always had a mug in his hand and always wandered back and forth through the office. Most often to and from the kitchen, to either top up or take his now full mug with him on his travels. The more cynical-minded might think Fred only drank tea because it allowed him to waste time. And if others wanted tea? Brilliant. He could stretch out the whole process of boiling the kettle and brewing the tea even longer. Still, he was a nice enough guy and he never pushed us to work hard or criticized anything we did. So, nobody put in a complaint. The office was pretty relaxed with Fred in charge. Name’s Hugh.
I nodded. Hm, Hugh,
I said, to say something. You didn’t need to try to hold a conversation with Fred, he could hold one by himself. Whether you responded or not had no bearing on the direction, topic, or length of the conversation. Fred would natter on about this and that — for anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour. His record was an hour and 43 minutes. That was with Dave, two cubicles down.
I could’ve watched a movie in the time it took him to tell me about his car insurance,
Dave said. All in good humour, mind you.
Fred nodded and continued. Seems like a decent enough fellow, this Mr Manbeing. Little bit odd. Got a good reputation, though.
I stared at Fred for a second as I came out of my daze. I was unsure if he was pulling my leg. He wasn’t known for his witty humour. I don’t think he had the intellect for it. "Hugh… Manbeing?" I asked, incredulous.
That’s right.
Fred nodded. Brenda in HR is clearing up his paperwork with ‘im at the moment, he should be up in—
Fred glanced at his watch —oh, I dunno, 15 minutes? I’ll send you his CV over to have a quick looksie before he heads up. Got an impressive history.
Does he now?
I wondered whether we were going to get a convict in the office. Well, you best send it over, hadn’t you?
I nodded in the direction of Fred’s desk.
On it like a car bonnet.
Fred fired finger pistols at me with a laugh. Fred’s favourite joke, although to call it a joke
might be a bit of a stretch.
Fred surprised me. He managed to send me this suspicious character’s resume before he arrived. Must’ve been an office record. With haste, I glanced over the document, which was rather unassuming. Hugh seemed qualified and had enough experience to signify he wasn’t a complete idiot. Yet, I did raise an eyebrow at his hobbies
section. His listed pastimes included consuming the required quantities of Earth food to sustain life
and standing upright on leg
and frolicking with my fellow Earth bipeds
.
When Hugh came into the office, his non-human features took me aback. But it didn’t deter Fred. Ah, here he is! Hey there, Hugh, how’re you settlin’ in?
He pumped the shiny ink-black hand that had six elongated fingers. Need a cuppa?
Hugh smiled but looked puzzled. "A cupper?" He rolled the word around his mouth as if to get the full flavour and texture of it.
Right you are, I’ll get right on it!
said Fred, who marched to the kitchen — not before he ushered the alien in my direction. This is your team leader. I know you’ll get along like a house on fire!
And then he left us to it.
We made our introductions as Fred disappeared in search of a large enough teapot. I reassured him that there was no fire to worry about. I noted how Hugh had no fingernails, and his hands had a slight suction to them. Like a lizard. Hugh Manbeing.
Hugh shifted as if he feared someone might cotton on to the fact that he wasn’t from around these parts.
"Nice to