Survival of the Freest: Short Fiction

“I have to admit, being dead isn’t nearly as boring as I feared it would be,” I said.

“I’m so glad to hear that, Dane,” Jenny replied. “But could you maybe save the life updates for after we’ve defeated the horde? Thanks.” With that, she squeezed the trigger of her sawed-off shotgun. The zombie in front of her barely had time to scream before its head exploded into a gooey mess. The body collapsed to the floor. Its legs twitched piteously before it fell silent for good. She repeated this process twice more, until the floor of our house, if you could even call it that, was obscured by heaps of decaying flesh.

“That’s the last of them,” I said, tucking my Louisville slugger into the waistband of my jeans.

Jenny holstered her weapon and slammed the door. “Gee, y’think?”

I plopped myself down on the couch, which mercifully avoided most of the splatter that coated the walls. The same could not be said of the dust that covered every inch of the damn thing. In life, that would’ve been murder on my sinuses. Heh. Murder. “Why you gotta be like that?” I asked.

“Like what?” She grabbed a bear from the mini-fridge and took a seat next to me.

“It’s the fucking apocalypse, and we’re both deceased. I’m having a pretty shitty week, man.”

“I thought you said this was fun.” Jenny took a long pull on her beer.

“No, I said it wasn’t boring. Big difference, there.”

“What’s your point, Dane?”

“My point is that you don’t have to pile on all the time. I’m having a rough enough time of all this without all your negativity.”

“Tell me something,” she said.

“What?”

“Before you died, were you a woman?”

“That’s offensive for the both of us.”

“Whatever. Stop whining so goddamned much. Everybody else is mindless. You gotta live a little.”

I looked at her sideways. “Really?”

“You know what I mean. Lighten up. Have fun.”

“Kind of hard when, again, we’re both dead.”

“Yeah. We left the drudgery of life behind. We’re dead, man. We’re free.”

I snorted. “Your lower jaw is rotting off.”

“I’ll get a new one from this guy,” she gestured to the corpse closest to her feet. “It’s cool. Everything’s cool.”

“For you, maybe,” I said.

She twisted around to face me, so that she was sitting Indian-style on the couch. “What were you doing before all this?”

“What?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I was a code monkey in Silicone Valley.”

“Really? What are you doing here in Nowheresville, Kentucky?”

I shrugged. “I heard on the radio that there were survivors here.”

“Guess you got screwed there, huh?” Jenny did her best to avoid staring at my empty left eye socket, but she wasn’t fooling anybody.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Whatever. That’s not the point. Did you like your job?”

I shrugged again. “It paid the bills.”

“See? That’s not enough. Now you don’t have to do that boring shit anymore. You’re free, goddamned it.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know if freedom is better than not having to worry about a steady food supply.”

“It is, man,” She said wistfully. “It totally is.”

“Your turn, then,” I said. “What did you do before this?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.

“No way. You’re not getting off that easy. I answered all your questions. Now it’s your turn.”

“Okay, fine. I’m only seventeen.”

I looked her up and down. Most of her skin was gone, revealing the rotting bone underneath, but she didn’t strike me as that young. “What? No way.”

“Yeah, way.”

I glanced at the can of beer in her hand. “Should you be drinking that?”

 Oh, please. We can’t get drunk anymore. And anyway, I think I deserve this.” My home life was pretty bad.”

“Bad how?’

“Angry, abusive father is how.”

“Oh, shit,” I said. If I could still breathe, I would’ve sucked in a breath right then. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Dane.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have made you talk about it. I should’ve let it go.”

“Too late now.”

“I guess.”

“That’s what this is for me,” she said after a moment of intensely uncomfortable silence. “A second chance. A do-over. This is freedom. From dad, from the nightmares, from everything.”

“Do you think that’s really it?” I asked. “A second chance, I mean.”

“Huh?” She sipped her beer again.

“As far as I know, we’re the only two zombies with functioning brains. Do you think we were chosen? Do you think we were saved?”

“I don’t know why this happened, and I don’t care all that much, to be honest.”

“You don’t?”

“No. The way I see it, we’re alive again, and we don’t know for how long. There’s no point in wasting time wondering why. We just gotta live a little.”

“We gotta be free,” I said with a smile.

“Exactly,” she answered.

Suddenly, there came a thunderous pounding on the door, accompanied by several ghoulish groans. The door shook as a new batch of the undead swarmed outside our home.

“We’ll do that later,” I said. Then I got up and hefted my baseball bat. Jane followed suit, cocking her shotgun.

 “Right now, we’ve got company,” she said.

Items Found on the Corpse of a God

Items Found On The Corpse of a God

Item 1: Darkness.

Item 2: Firmament.

Item 3: Sticks.

Item 4: Corn husks.

Item 5: Small handheld mirror.

Item 6: Clay (dried).

Item 7: Spyglass (collapsible).

Item 8: Wooden box (unopened).

Item 9: Copy of the Holy Scriptures of the Highfather (heavily annotated).

Item 10: Prayers from the faithful:

--Subject: "I have a question about..." (1,082,334).

--Subject: "Thank you for..." (4,127).

--Subject: "Please give me..." (42,881,458).

--Subject: "Help, [insert monster here] is attacking us!" (11,240).

Item 11: Packet of biographical information on local warriors.

Item 12: Address of war hero Esper Agomar

Item 13: Legendary Flaming Sword (well--used).

Item 14: Collection of severed heads offered up as sacrifices by the war hero Esper Agomar: 

--The Mawbeast of Rogal Fenn.

--Kell Baruch, King of the Giants.

--Glomfreet, Ice Dragon of Splinterstone Peak.

--Various unnamed horrors of questionable infamy (18).

--Innocent bystanders (14).

--Various priests the of Highfather (7) and attendants (10).

--Filia Agomar. (Missing Head)

--Esper Agomar, Jr. (Ashes)

Item 15: Lightning bolts (infinite).

Item 16: Charred remains of the war hero Esper Agomar (cause of death: lightning bolts).

Item 17: Paternity test results.

Item 18: Bottle of antidepressants.

Item 19: Bottle of whisky.

Item 20: Letter of resignation (unsent).

The Woman In White: Short Fiction

The Woman In White

 Chris Costello

The church was an odd affair, all spires and stained glass and gothic arches. It looked more like the temple to some long-forgotten demon lord than anything else. Needless to say, that didn’t exactly inspire confidence in me.

“Jason!” I looked up to see Mark bounding down the steps of the church. He was clad in an ill-fitting tuxedo that made him look like a particularly tall child. “You made it! Just wait ‘till you meet her. She’s the loveliest, most wonderful-”

“Whoa.” I cut in, putting a stop to this gushing. “Who are you and what have you done with Mark Lambert? Hell, you used to get pissed if there was a single kiss in the action movies we watched.”

“Evelyn’s changed all that. She’s touched the romantic nature in my soul.”

Offhand, I wouldn’t have said Mark had a soul, never mind one with a romantic side. I figured this girl must be something pretty special to make him act like such a buffoon. I shouldered past him, filing into the church before all this talk of true love made me vomit.

All the while, Mark continued to rave about Evie. I tuned him out, or at least tried to. From what I could gather she was some kind of angel. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. His face was flushed, his hair eschew, his eyes wild. He looked like an addict. It was almost as though-

No. I wouldn’t even let myself finish the thought. It just wasn’t possible.

At that moment, Mark’s “Evie” Came down the stairs, meeting us in the middle of the foyer. She moved with an almost feral grace. If Mark was an excited puppy, she was a wolf on the prowl. I tried to judge if my former best friend had made a good choice, but I couldn’t get a good look at her through the veil. Something about her seemed familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Nor did I have time to try to figure it out. An impatient usher was insisting I sit down.

Finding a seat, I tried to chat up the little redhead in front of me, but she shot me down. The music started. It struck me as rather too similar to the tunes they play at funeral marches.

The procession of flower girls and bridesmaids and whatnot made their way down the aisle, and I yawned. At long last, the bride approached the alter.

Suddenly, a tingling sensation sparked at the base of my skull. The feeling that something was off only got stronger.

When the bride stood beside him, Mark lifted her veil.

“Matilda?” I cried in shock. The spectators around me shot me some frankly disturbing looks, but I ignored them, focusing on her instead. I saw a faint smile tug at the bride’s scarlet lips. Those bright blue eyes, the misshapen nose that I’d never apologized for breaking. Why hadn’t I seen it before?

I leapt to my feet. “Wait!” I shouted. “This can’t happen!” Everyone looked at me again, their expressions even angrier this time. Mark glared daggers, knives, and swords at me.

“And why is that?” The minister asked.

“She’s...already married.” This was not strictly true, but it definitely got results. Everyone started talking at once, clamoring excitedly as they all shared their theories on this new development. I think Mark was trying to tell the minister to go on regardless. 

Matilda merely flashed one of her white-toothed smiles at me. She gave me a haughty look, and her emerald eyes morphed into burning golden orbs. A second later, her mortal facade reasserted itself.

How can Mark not see that? I wondered. Either he was the dumbest person alive, or her magic was seriously powerful. I wasn’t sure which option I detested more.

“Please.” I said. “Can I just have five minutes alone with the bride?”

The minister turned to Matilda, and she nodded at him. Then she closed her eyes, muttering an incantation. The air around us began to shimmer, and the chatter of perplexed guests halted abruptly. Their animated gestures stopped, giving them all the appearance of statues

“C’mon, that spell will wear off soon.” She said, breezing out of the room.

Once we were standing in the parking lot, I turned to the woman in white.

“Dracovious.” She said before I could get a word in. “No, wait, you’re going by Jason now, aren’t you?” The smug grin never dropped from her face.

“I hear you’ve taken a new name as well, Evie.” I shot back.

“Only temporarily. Fear not, I’m still your Matilda.”

“What are you doing with Mark?”

“Marrying him, what does it look like? I thought your kind were supposed to be observant.”

“No shit you’re marrying him.” I said. “I want to know why.”

She looked me up and down, and then, “You wouldn’t answer my letters.”

My jaw sagged open. “You did all this to get to me?”

“No!” She bellowed indignantly. “Get over yourself.”

“So why are you here then?” I demanded. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop my face from burning up.

“It’s Lord Gregor.” She said.

“You mean Dad.” I said, spitting out the words like they were poison. Knowing him, they very well could be. “You don’t have to use his real title, no matter what he says.”

“He requirers a meeting.” She replied, far more evenly than me. “With both of us.”

I thought it over. Going back to the Coven was out of the question, but she didn’t know that. Maybe I could use this as leverage.

“I won’t even consider returning until you remove the spell.”

Matilda was silent for a moment. Then, in a low voice, “He needs you, Dracovious. He’s been cursed.”

“What else is new?” I scoffed. “Dad gets cursed by somebody, like, every other week. He’s always bounced back before.”

“This is different. He’s in bad shape.”

I chuckled. “What help could I possibly be, then?”

“I’m not asking you to cure him.” She said. “Just be there for him. We are family, after all.”

“What has he ever done for me?” I said. “You know, aside from the emotional scarring. And if you’ll recall, we didn’t exactly part ways on the best of terms. If I go back, he’ll probably have me killed. You know that.”

“Please. In his current state, he can’t even move on his own, let alone cast a spell. And besides, you know how Dad operates. If he wanted you dead, you’d be underground right now.” Matilda paused, then continued when I made no move to reply. “And besides, this isn’t where you belong.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The empty feeling in the pit of my stomach grew.

“Do you think you’re really friends with Mark?” Matilda snapped.

“Of course I am.” I said, nodding tersely.

“Why were you at the back of the room-at your best friend’s wedding? Why weren’t you up front with the other important people in his life?”

I tried to interject, but she silenced me with a look. “It’s because he knows there’s something different about you, something not quite right. One of these days, he’ll cast you aside. He’s already started.”

“That’s a lie.” I said, more to myself than to her. “I’ve let go of magic.”

“No, it’s not. Think about it. How many long-term romantic relationships have you had since you turned your back on us?”

I didn’t reply.

“See? You know I’m right. You’ve made no real connections with any of these people. No matter what happens, you belong at home, with your family.”

“The charm.” I said, fighting to get the words past the lump in my throat. “Take it off.”

Matilda grinned, pulling me into a bear hug. She let go after a moment, and I heard my sister murmur the invocation. Her words were quiet, but oozing authority. 

Then there was a flash of light, and the big chapel doors burst open. The mortals spewed out onto the cracked pavement. Their faces were flushed with crimson, but they didn’t seem angry. Just confused.

“You know where to find me.” Matilda said, beginning another spell. “I’m so proud of you.” She vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving me alone with a bunch of perplexed mortals, each talking excitedly to one another. Again.

I wiped the tears from my eyes. “So like a wizard, taking off just when the shit hits the fan,” I muttered, stalking towards my car.

“Wait!” One voice rose above all the others. It sounded wounded, like its owner was clinging to his last shred of hope. I halted, turning to face the source of the noise. Goddamned conscience.

Mark came hurtling towards me, tears streaming down his face. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his cheekbones sunken. He reminded me of one of the demons my father kept as servants. He came to a stop in front of me.

“What happened?” He pleaded. “One minute everything was fine, and then you screamed. Then everything just...stopped. You left with Evie.”

I tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace.

Mark gasped, eyes widening in horror. “You’re in love with her.” He said. “She’s running away with you.”

Me and Matilda...together? The idea struck me as funny, and before I knew it, I was laughing. A great, booming guffaw that I’m sure they could’ve heard on Mars.

Mark looked appalled, and a second later he burst into tears again. Maybe the spell hadn’t worn off just yet.

“No, Mark, listen. It’s not like that.” My voice sounded scratchy and alien, even to me. “She left for your own good.”

Mark sniffled, stopping the flow of his tears. “So she ruined my life to protect me. Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?”

Hearing it like that, it didn’t make as much sense. But I couldn’t very well take it back now. I had to make him understand. “That’s exactly it!” I shouted, waving my hands about frantically. Sweat clung to my face, and I probably looked insane. Come to think of it, I felt crazy, too. Mark continued to frown at me, and I sighed. “You’d never believe me if I told you.”

Rage flashed in Mark’s eyes. He turned on his heels and stormed off.

I shook my head. “Way to go, Jason. Another friendship ends. My perfect losing streak remains intact.” I rummaged in my pocket for the car keys. “Time to go home...Dracovious.”

The Truth About Magic: Short Fiction

The Truth About Magic

 Chris Costello

The shop was a curious little place on the outskirts of town, far away from anything that could reasonably be called a part of civilization. The store was a ramshackle cottage with no windows, and there wasn’t even a sign out front. Gary supposed that was intentional. Wizards liked solitude. At least, that’s what everybody had said.

He crossed the street and paused outside the shop door. His palms were slick with sweat, but he still managed to hang onto the dusty old tome in his hands. He shifted so that the book was tucked under his arm and rapped on the wooden door with his knuckles. His heart sent a steady drumbeat thumping through his ears.

Gary waited for about ten minutes, but nothing happened. He looked down at his feet. The boy considered turning around and hoofing it back home, but then thought better of it. If the book was the real thing, it would be too good to pass up. And if it wasn’t, well, at least it’d gotten him out of the house.

Suddenly, the door whisked open. “Heya, kid.” Said a voice, clearly male.

Gary took a deep breath and looked up. There was nothing there. The space within the doorway was empty. He snapped his head around, searching for the source of the noise. The streets around him were all but deserted. Maybe he was just hearing things. He spun on his heels and prepared to walk away. His friends had been right. This was stupid.

“Hey, kid.” Said the voice again. “Where’re you goin’?”

“Where are you?” Gary asked, not bothering to turn around again.

“Down here.”

That piqued Gary’s interest enough to give in. He paused and faced the direction the sound had come from.

There was someone standing there, but Gary didn’t think he was human. For one thing, he was only about three feet tall. For another, he had dull, watery eyes and a thick head of bright green hair. There was a small goatee jutting out of his chin.

The guy, noticing Gary’s expression, smirked. “Expecting somebody different, were ya?”

Gary nodded, making a vain attempt to close his mouth.

“S’okay.” The guy said. “They usually react this way. Come on in, we’ll see what ya got, okay?” The little man stepped aside, ushering Gary into the shop.

It looked exactly like Gary would expect a magic shop-a real one-to look. There were two huge armchairs in the center of the room, and the unpainted walls were lined with shelves which, in turn, were stuffed to the gills with books. These were all leather-bound tomes with yellowed pages and strange lettering on the spines. Just like the one Gary was carrying. He allowed himself a modicum of hope.

The little guy eased himself into one of the chairs. His feet didn’t even touch the ground. If he was bothered by this fact, he did a good job hiding it.

Gary stood dumbly in the doorway, taking everything in. He was struck by the fact that there was no lightbulb anywhere, and yet he could see everything clear as day.

“Sit down.” The guy said. “I’m a busy man, I don’t got all day.”

Gary looked around. Apart from him, the store was empty. Still, he was in a magic shop, and it was never a good idea to piss off wizards. Or so he’d been told. He nodded and took a seat in the only other available chair.

“All right.” The guy said, crossing his stumpy legs. “What do you have for me?”

“It’s probably nothing.” Gary mumbled. “Stupid book, is all.”

“Hey, I make a living off of stupid books. Fork it over, will ya?”

Gary spread the book across his lap. The guy stood and turned it over in his hands. After a cursory inspection, he handed it back. “Where’d you find this, kid?”

“It was in a trunk in the attic.” Gary said.

He nodded. “These kinds of things usually are. Either there or in the back of an old library.”

Gary’s heart soared. “So it is a spellbook!” He pumped his fist in the air triumphantly. “I knew it! Suck it, Steve.”

The guy chuckled. “Don’t get too excited. You didn’t find the Necromicon over here. It’s a remedial tome. Think of it like a third grade textbook, but for magic.”

Gary scowled.”Oh.”

“Hey, now. I could always use more of these. You willing to sell?”

Gary thought of the empty fridge at home. “Sure I am.” He said without much hesitation. “How much is it worth?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Have you opened it yet?”

“Yeah. Couldn’t make heads or tails of anything inside, though.”

The little man frowned. “Damn.”

Gary’s heart picked up speed again. “Is that a problem?”

“It’s the biggest problem.” The little man replied. “See, spellbooks are personalized. They’re all made with a specific person in mind.”

Gary gestured to all the books in the room. “Why do you have all these, then?”

“I run a matching service. Somebody finds a book they can’t open, they bring it to me. I help them find a rightful owner. If you’ve already accessed the thing, it’s basically useless to me now.”

“Oh.” Gary said again.

The little man put a sausage finger on his chin, clearly deep in thought. “I’ll tell you what.” He said after a moment. “What if I taught you to cast the spells inside. Nothing serious, just little charms. Self-tying shoelaces, telekinesis, that sort of thing.”

Gary sucked in a breath. “You’re serious?”

The guy shrugged. “Yeah, why not? I need the money.” He paused, glancing down at Gary’s scuffed sneakers, two sizes too small. “And, clearly, so do you. I could teach you a few conjuring spells, and you could mind the store. Work for your keep. What do you say?”

“Sure.” Gary sputtered. He resisted the urge to ask the little guy to pinch him. “But I don’t even know your name.”

The guy extended his hand, and Gary shook it. “I’m Rico. Pleasure to meet you.”

“My name is Gary.” He said. His head was filled with visions of the future. The giant castle that would be his home, the hundreds of servants he would hire, the velvet robes he would wear.

“I know.” Said the man.

They sat in contented silence for a moment, and then Gary spoke up again. “So you’re really a wizard?  I mean, a real wizard?”

Rico narrowed his eyes. “Sure am. Why? Do I not look like a wizard to you?”

“I mean, sure.” Said Gary. “I was just-”

“Expecting something a little more typical?” Rico interrupted. “The long white beard, the pointy hat, the robes?”

Gary nodded, unable to speak.

 “That’s just how they play us in the movies. I’ve never met anyone like that in real life. Also, I’m pretty sure that’s racist.”

“No, no.” Gary said, perhaps a little too quickly. “That’s not what I meant.”

Rico barked out a laugh. “I know, I know. I’m just screwing with you. Relax, kid. We’re cool.”

Gary let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah. Jesus Christ, I was just having a little fun.”

“Okay.”

The silence took over again. This time, it was Rico who broke it off.

“There is something you need to know about magic.” He said. A shadow had fallen across his eyes. “Before we get down to business.”

“I know.” Replied Gary, eager to show off what he’d learned from the Internet. “It always comes with a price.”

Rico stifled a laugh. “What? That’s not even close. Who told you that, kid?”

Gary suddenly acted as though the stain on the carpet was the most interesting thing in the world. “Everybody.”

“Well, everybody is wrong.” Rico said.

Gary recalled something he’d read on a message board somewhere. He doubted the information was correct, but it was worth a shot. “But what about the laws of thermodynamics? Isn’t magic bound by them?”

“If magic followed the rules of thermodynamics, it wouldn’t be magic, would it?”

“But surely there must be some grounding in physics.” Gary tried to recall the stuff he’d learned in science class. He was beginning to regret sleeping through all of Mr. McKinley’s lectures. “Quantum mechanics, maybe.”

“That stuff only works on a tiny scale.” Rico grumped. “If we were trying to conjure a teacup the size of an atom, maybe it would apply. But who would want to do that? What purpose would it serve. That’s what magic’s all about. Purpose.”

Gary’s sense of regret vanished, replaced by a grin that looked as though it would meet in the middle of his forehead if left unchecked. “All right. Thermodynamics, quantum theory, all that goes out the window. Got it. But there must be some kind of cost. Do I have to sell my soul? I don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of commitment.”

When Rico didn’t reply, he ventured another guess. “Does it only work if I really, really believe it?”

Rico didn’t even try to mask his amusement this time around. “What have you been reading, kid?”

Gary crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, just every story ever written about somebody casting spells.”

Rico waved his hand dismissively. “That’s all fiction. This, my friend, is the real thing.”

“All right, then. What exactly do I need to know?” Gary asked.

Rico snapped his fingers, and a small dragon materialized in his lap with a puff of smoke. It curled up like a cat, swishing its tail contentedly as he scratched between the horns. “Magic is fucking awesome.”