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    Mnemosyne Anthology
    Mnemosyne Anthology
    Mnemosyne Anthology
    Ebook154 pages1 hour

    Mnemosyne Anthology

    By Alexandra Elliott, Erin McKee and Heather Valentine

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    About this ebook

    The Mnemosyne Anthology collects ten stories from up-and-coming writers in science-fiction, fantasy and horror. The curated stories encompass a wide range of what the genres have to offer - from heartwarming to horrifying, serious to funny, fairytales to zombies - but are united by their solid writing, strong original ideas and overall high quality.

    Features stories by Luke Belcourt, M.R. Cassells, Kerry-Ann Kerr, Morgan Lane, Stephen LeSieur, Jonathan Sim, Marty Sinclair, Conor Smart, Martin White and Olivia Vítazková.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMnemosyne Anthology
    Release dateApr 4, 2014
    ISBN9781311952882
    Mnemosyne Anthology

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      Book preview

      Mnemosyne Anthology - Alexandra Elliott

      Mnemosyne Anthology

      Edited by Alexandra Elliot, Erin McKee and Heather Valentine

      Copyright 2014 Mnemosyne Anthology

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright for all work appearing in this anthology remains with the authors. No material may be reproduced without prior written arrangement.

      For more information about Mnemosyne, visit mnemosyneanthology.wordpress.com

      Layout by Heather Valentine

      Original cover illustration by Adrianna Ver Wierucka sticksandsharks.tumblr.com

      Mnemosyne

      1. In ancient Greece, mother of the nine muses.

      2. The personification of memory.

      3. An anthology of new,

      extraordinary works

      of science fiction

      fantasy, and

      horror.

      Table of Contents

      Notes from the Editors

      We’re Not Dead by Kerry-Ann Kerr

      Outside the Tower by Luke Belcourt

      In the Cosmic Waiting Room by Martin White

      Tiny Scars by Olivia Vítazková

      Carbon Clad by Jonathan Sim

      The Criminal Cried as He Dropped Him Down by M. R. Cassells

      Roll Up, Roll Down by Marty Sinclair

      Dragon Letter by Stephen LeSieur

      Origin of the Sisters by Morgan Lane

      Quintessence by Conor Smart

      Author Biographies

      Notes from the Editors

      Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Horror. Discuss.

      Alexandra Elliott

      If it weren’t for young adult fantasy novels I probably wouldn’t be a writer. I might not even be a reader. The first book I ever loved was a fantasy novel and I’ve been hooked ever since. There’s nothing like reading good fantasy (or sci fi, or horror). These are genres that push the envelope, that bend rules, that take you somewhere new. Reading becomes an exploration of a new world - getting to know new creatures, learning the rules of a new place. This might be a place where dragons talk. It might be a place where gravity is overrated. Where humans are the minority. Where electricity doesn’t work. Where magic does.

      I read all sorts of things now, but I come back to fantasy and science fiction over and over again. I never want to underestimate the power of magic to transform us, to illuminate us, to educate us. Because I think sometimes at the heart of a great fantasy story we can find a lot of truth. We just needed to step outside the box to see it clearly.

      Erin McKee

      For me, science-fiction, fantasy, and horror have never been periphery genres. The first novels I remember reading were fantasy and sci-fi, and I waited to discover horror until a few years later. Some of the first writing I ever remember doing was also grounded in sci-fi and fantasy. So when I see these genres receive less attention than they should, I get somewhat confused, as they have always taken up very significant space in my literary experience.

      Because of my experience with these genres, I continue to be fascinated by works of literature that push and blur the lines between the realms of reality and fiction, works that provoke questions of what it means to live and love regardless of their world it is set in. It is with this sentiment that I am pleased to present to you this anthology.

      Heather Valentine

      When I was younger, I mostly read Young Adult Fantasy, so while I branched out as I got older, for me there will always be something comfortably charming about fantasy, science-fiction and horror – the adventure, the highly drawn emotions, the magic, the mysteries. As an adult I also appreciate the intellectual possibilities of the genres – the ability to ask what it would be like to live in this different world or be this person with a very different existence. By pushing a work into the realms of the fantastical, the author is free to push their idea or allegory, or just have fun with the setting.

      Fantasy, science-fiction and horror are genres that do often need defended, as they are so often seen as less serious than literary fiction, but for me part of the charm of the genres are their scope – that under the umbrella are both charming adventures and serious psychological studies, both equal and beloved among different fans of the genre.

      Kerry-Ann Kerr

      We’re Not Dead

      Juliet crouched behind a bin that smelled like rotting fruit and tried not to gag. The shadows would hide her, and the bin would mask her scent, but nothing would drown out her heavy breathing in the silent street. She covered her mouth with a dirty hand and tried to control the violent rise and fall of her shoulders.

      A shriek at the mouth of the alley had her trying to push herself even further into the shadows. Her shoulder was wedged uncomfortably between the brick wall and bin, her bag digging into her back. Thanks to a touch of malnutrition, Juliet was small for her fifteen years. The thought brought a wry smile to her face. Sometimes she just had to appreciate life: that she could actually be grateful for not having something to eat every night.

      There were three people standing only feet away from the bin now. Well… infected. Once upon a time they’d been people, with jobs and families and the preference for cooked, non-human food. Now they were shells, a basic instinct that saw a human and wouldn’t rest until it lost sight of them or bit their face off. They were drawing closer. Juliet could hear the gentle breath, the light footsteps as they tried to work out why her scent had suddenly been replaced by something repulsive.

      Her fingers tightened around the Molotov. They were close, but not close enough. She waited, and just when she thought she might lose the feeling in her legs from being so still for so long, she saw the top of a head. They’d reached the bin.

      She had seconds. She unearthed the lighter from the front pocket of her jacket, flicked it open, and set the rag stuffed into the mouth of the bottle alight. There was a loud hiss from the other side of the bin, the infected had heard, but it didn’t matter. She was already throwing the bottle at the top of the head. There was a smash and a whoosh as the figure was engulfed by flames, which was almost drowned out by the scream. Her bin rattled, and debris showered around her, bouncing on the concrete and rolling away.

      Juliet scrambled to her feet and ran, knowing what would be happening even though she didn’t turn to look. A second scream joined the first and – moments later – a third followed. Infected were fast, almost nimble, but they weren't intelligent. Fire amazed them and, even seeing one of their fellows writhing in agony, they’d still reach out to touch.

      At the end of the alley, the path opened up into a long-abandoned residential area. The buildings were crumbling or boarded up, cars dotted about haphazardly. Nature had taken over, forcing its way through walls and windows. Listening out for the sound of approaching feet, Juliet slipped to the right, where a fire exit stood ajar, a splintering desk keeping it open. She hopped onto it and slid into the building, her feet crunching on dead leaves.

      She flicked on the torch that was always attached to the front of her jacket. With the way lit, she followed the corridor to a set of stairs. Most of the doors, leading into flats, were open. Some of the doors were gone completely, the material stolen for something else a long time ago. Juliet had stopped looking into the homes, trying to imagine what they’d looked like only eleven short years ago, before all of this happened.

      It was difficult to imagine, a world without infected and evil. Her dad had said the world had always been evil, that wherever humans existed, there would be evil. He’d been an adult when it had all happened, so he’d had more memories than the fragments she had of what the world had been like before. Juliet accepted that there had been murders and rapes and torture. But at least then it was only what one human could do to another.

      When she’d climbed the stairs to the top of the building, she walked out to the roof and stopped. To the left was what had been London city centre. Before, the stars would have been extinguished by the hum of the city. Now the sky belonged to the stars and moon. To the right was Area London, one of the biggest human settlements in the south of England.

      Juliet crossed the roof to the very corner, where the wall had crumbled. She lowered herself down, letting her legs dangle for a second before dropping. She landed on another roof and stayed crouching, listening out. No warning alarm sounded, no shouts announced her arrival. She straightened up and walked quickly to the other side where a fire escape led down to another alley, lit only by the flickering light from the other side of the fence.

      The light glittered in the dark blue eyes of the man who watched Juliet jump the rest of the way down the fire escape. She let out a resigned sigh as she straightened up. Adam needed to shave. His stubble and collar length black hair was peppered through with grey, his eyes outlined by premature age.

      Have a good time? Adam asked gruffly.

      One of the first memories Juliet had of Adam was his voice, because she’d heard it before she’d seen him. His voice was deep and gravelly, but it took her a while to figure out why she liked listening to Adam talk. Her dad had explained Adam was from Atlanta in America. Juliet could never understand why he’d come all the way out to Britain when she’d seen a map

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