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    Blood Picnic and other stories
    Blood Picnic and other stories
    Blood Picnic and other stories
    Ebook119 pages1 hour

    Blood Picnic and other stories

    By Tony Noland

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    About this ebook

    In this diverse collection, the versatile writer and blogger Tony Noland has gathered some of his best flash fiction and short stories. These twenty eight stories range in style from fantasy and horror to magical realism and literary fiction.

    *When the god of love is furious, you’d better hope it’s not you he’s gunning for.

    *The most powerful magic ring in the world is defeated... by bad dental work.

    *A preacher’s sermon will soften the heart of anyone except the one person who matters most.

    *The funniest man in the world is asked to reveal his secret, with deadly consequences.

    *A midlist author finally has a runaway bestseller. Too bad that’s the *last* thing he wanted.

    Whether you’re looking for potent true-to-life tales or you want your fiction full of zombies, flying carpets, deals with the devil and superheroes in trouble, this collection will amuse, delight and surprise you.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTony Noland
    Release dateApr 21, 2011
    ISBN9781458141927
    Blood Picnic and other stories
    Author

    Tony Noland

    I'm a writer, poet and blogger living in the suburbs of Philadelphia, PA. My writing is funny, sad or exciting, depending on how much coffee I've had. I own a lot of power tools, a few firearms and so many books that I've given up counting them. I now measure them by the linear foot.

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      Book preview

      Blood Picnic and other stories - Tony Noland

      Blood Picnic

      and other stories

      by

      Tony Noland

      Smashwords Edition

      * * *~~~* * *

      Published by:

      Tony Noland at Smashwords

      Blood Picnic and other stories

      Copyright © 2011 Tony Noland

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Dedication:

      To M

      Blood Picnic

      and other stories

      Table of Contents

      Chapter 1: Fantasy - Tales of the Heavens

      Truly, Deeply, Endlessly

      Time’s Arrow

      Comes the Witching Hour

      Romeo and Juliet are Dead

      Adventure!

      Straight and True, My Arrow, Fly

      Chapter 2: Literary fiction - Tales of the Earth

      The Green Fields of Home

      Shirts and Skins

      This Little Light of Mine

      Cutting

      Aspirations

      Intervention

      The Killing Song

      A Levelheaded Man

      Chapter 3: Horror - Tales of the Moon

      Ridi, Pagliaccio

      Leeds Darts Champion of 1974

      The Way of All Flesh

      Long Story

      Simple Geometry

      Complex Geometry

      Chapter 4: Magical realism - Tales of the Sun

      Blood Picnic

      Blood Picnic: Origins

      Third Shift at McSweeny’s

      Reconciliation

      Grey Ghost Gone

      What the Wind Knows It Cannot Tell

      I’m Telling You Why

      Up North

      Afterword

      Chapter 1: Tales of the Heavens

      Truly, Deeply, Endlessly

      He stood as she approached. Bundled against the cold, carrying her hat in her left hand rather than wearing it, she came closer, a slightly hesitant look on her face.

      Richard? she said.

      Yes, it's me, Richard Tollofson, although maybe I should call myself ZombieFanBoi.

      Her face split into a wide smile. She laughed as she shook her head.

      Thank God! I had this image of walking around asking guys in the park, 'Excuse me, I'm FleshBiterMama...are you ZombieFanBoi?'. I guess I should introduce myself properly. I'm Melinda, Melinda Jackson.

      They shook hands, and then stood, awkward in a sudden silence. Across Lake Shore Drive, a few hardcore joggers and walkers moved along the paths near the frozen beach. Lincoln Park itself was pretty empty.

      Um, so... she said, should we go get a coffee or something? I'll be honest, this is the first time I've ever met one of my online friends in real life for a... you know, a get-together. She blushed slightly. He looked at the ground.

      Yeah, it's a new one for me, too. Actually, I thought maybe we could just walk, you know? Talk a bit?

      She looked around the park, at the ice on the shore, the joggers, the stilled and silent tourist booths by the marina.

      Um...

      We could go somewhere with more people around. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just would rather be outside on a day like this. Do you want to go to the zoo?

      Are you kidding? It's freezing out here! She laughed again, pulled her hat on. This isn't going to be much of a lunch date if we're incompatible right off the bat!

      He smiled slightly. The cold doesn't bother me much. Tell you what, I think I saw a lunch vendor up on Lincoln. I'll buy you a cup of coffee. Between that and the walk, it'll be almost as warm as being inside.

      Her eyes glanced over his shoulder, at the Starbucks sign on Clark Street, across from the park. His sunglasses were the wrap-around kind, mirrored. Her own face, stretched and distorted, was reflected back at her.

      Well... OK. But let's get moving, Richard, it really is kind of harsh out here. It smells like it's going to snow.

      Does it? He drew in a long, deep breath, let it out. Hmm, I'm not getting anything. What does impending snow smell like? Like impending rain, only colder?

      She laughed, her breath a fog between them.

      You goon. She dug her hands into her pockets and they set off, faces into the wind.

      So, you live north of the Loop? she asked.

      Yeah, he said, I live over in Wicker Park, not too far from here.

      How do you like it? I hear it's getting pretty gentrified these days.

      Yeah, but it kind of goes through cycles, you know? Bad, then good, then bad again.

      How long have you lived there?

      He didn't answer right away. For more than a minute, they walked in silence.

      A long time. A real long time. Look, Melinda, I guess that kind of brings me to what I really wanted to say.

      Uh... OK.

      The fact is... well, I don't meet many people. In real life, I mean. The internet is great, lets me have lots of friends online, but real life is a whole different matter.

      She didn't respond, but only dug her hands deeper into her pockets as they continued to walk.

      It's not that I'm shy or antisocial or anything. I like people, like to be around people. It's just that I have a ... condition that keeps me kind of isolated. Very isolated, actually. It's not a medical thing, he said quickly. I mean it's not a disease or a sickness or anything. It's just ... part of who I am.

      They walked in silence.

      Jeez, he said, this is hard. I didn't think it would be this hard to, you know, to tell you. It's just that... well, look, I like you. I mean I've come to like you a lot, and I just don't think it's fair to you for us to keep chatting and sending e.mails and tweets back and forth without you... knowing.

      She stopped, turned to face him.

      Without me knowing what, Richard?

      He stood, looking at the ground. After a moment, he reached up and removed his sunglasses. Dead gray eyes, rimmed with bruised purple flesh stared out at her.

      She took two steps back, her body rigid.

      I can dye my hair, he said, and rub tanning solution onto my skin. I can even paint my nails a normal flesh tone. But my skin is always cold and I can't do anything about my eyes. They just don't make contact lenses for zombies, Melinda. I ... I'm sorry. He looked back down at the ground. I was hoping you might... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have tried this. It was stupid, and I'm sorry. Christ, I'd weep if I could. I should know by now not to... I'm sorry. How could I hope that you'd understand when -

      Richard.

      He stopped, looked at her.

      I do understand. I've suspected this for awhile. Now that I know for sure... I just wanted you to know that I think it was a brave thing you did, coming out like this.

      At her words, his expression of despair slowly turned into one of rising hope. She drew her hands from her pockets and held them out to him.

      Twin cracks erupted from the HK 9mm pistols she held, small flashes licking from the barrel shrouds. Richard's head exploded, sending a spray of dried flesh backwards in a gray cloud. His body dropped to the ground.

      She leaned into the button mic on her collar.

      Got him, she said.

      * * *~~~* * *

      Time's Arrow

      The first arrow was less than two feet from his chest when he pushed it aside with the edge of his sword, just a slight upwards thrust to the barbed tip. He'd learned a dozen lifetimes ago not to try to catch arrows or to stop them completely. Less than an eyeblink later, as men felt time, the arrow rotated around its middle and the wooden shaft slapped broadside on his armor. It snapped and fell, and he rode on toward the archers and warriors. The rest of the first wave of arrows was tightly spaced as it closed on him; these men knew their business. Probably four fifths of them would have hit his torso, even though he was mounted. It took him a moment to see his way through the cloud of arrows, but there was plenty of time. They were still seven feet away.

      As they came within reach, he pushed a few of them on the tips, others at the fletching; they parted like a flock of sparrows. Tips of iron, knapped flint

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