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    Golden Realm Stories Anthology
    Golden Realm Stories Anthology
    Golden Realm Stories Anthology
    Ebook275 pages3 hours

    Golden Realm Stories Anthology

    By John Pirillo

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    About this ebook

    A collection of fine stories guaranteed to give you hours of reading pleasure. Included are the novel, "The Dreamers Awaken," and the short stories "To Hell and Back: The Demon Lord," "Cartoon, Shades of Gray: The Portal is Opening," "Perihelion, Episode One: The Convolution," "A Baker Street Adventure Snippet: The Death of Conan," and the "The Nano Kid."

    This is a chance to sample the wide ranging fantasies, adventures and science-fiction stories that the very prolific author, John Pirillo, writes at a fantastic price.

    The stories range from two lovers reunited after lifetimes of romance that ended badly, a Special Forces Demon Fighting Unit, a trio of scientists who navigate pocket
    universes populated with characters from our fairy tales, the author Conan Doyle as an integral partner in adventures that involve Sherlock Holmes, and a young man who is made of nano particles and has an agenda that just might not fit well with some humans.

    Fantasy, Adventure, Science Fiction, Mystery and Detective stories all under one cover.

    Read and enjoy!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJohn Pirillo
    Release dateMay 29, 2014
    ISBN9781311277121
    Golden Realm Stories Anthology
    Author

    John Pirillo

    The author was born in Washington, Pennsylvannia. He loves animals and birds. Has two pet cockatiels that keep him company while he writes. He has a lovely daughter and a rascally grandson. He is rich in friends that matter and well adjusted to a life of challenges. He writes and draws every day. He loves anything science fiction, fantasy or extremely well written. Same goes for movies and TV. Not married currently, but has an eye and ear open to possibilities. :)

    Read more from John Pirillo

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      Book preview

      Golden Realm Stories Anthology - John Pirillo

      Chapter One: Dream Lover

      The street was long and deserted of cars. It was not atypical Broadway, usually loaded with honking cabs, throngs of people scurrying about, and noise everywhere. Not typical New York night time. Not typical at all.

      She sat in the car, revving the engine to keep it running properly. On her radio Bobby Darin was wailing out a sad song about a Dream Lover, wanting her to come back to him. Rusty smirked. Fat chance of that ever happening. You blow it. You blow it. You had to be tough with the guys, or they chewed you up and spit you out.

      A huge shadow fell across her car, and then moved past it.

      Oh God in Heaven! She muttered, clutching at a silver crucifix about her neck. It had been given to her by her grandmother before she passed away. She had told her that it would protect her in her hour of need. She had laughed at the time, not meaning to, and her grandmother had smiled gently and stroked her face.

      Not all is as it seems, dear child. She had whispered, before closing her eyes and sighing. Nearing her last breath. Suddenly she opened her eyes. They're so beautiful! So beautiful!

      She looked up at Rusty. They're coming for you, Rusty. They're coming....

      Her eyes shut and she was gone.

      It was the most miserable time of Rusty's life on a lot of levels. She had just broken up with the love of her life. A wimpy blonde with dropping whiskers with no future. He was a writer and a waiter, and not very good at either job.

      She sighed as she gripped the car wheel, tensing, for now the shadow was taking shape.

      It can't be. She choked out.

      The shadow was of a masted ship. Impossible. On Broadway?

      Then the ship passed her and as it did the music on her radio blared out even louder about wanting a Dream Lover, and then a tall man on the side of the ship waved a sword at her. She could hear him despite the distance. I will love you forever!

      Rusty woke up with the worst headache of her life. Her long red hair was wrapped around her forehead like spaghetti around a fork in a fancy restaurant. And it was soaking wet, just like her foam pillow and her pink silk sheets beneath her.

      She groaned. Rusty, Rusty, Rusty, your life is a nightmare and now your dreams too. What am I going to do with you?

      She sat up on her queen sized bed, stretched her slender arms upwards, practicing the yoga stretch she had learned from Danjani-ji in the asana class at the YMCA. She smiled when she remembered how patient he had been with her, when she screwed up for what seemed like the hundredth time, causing the whole class to make faces at her. Well, almost everyone, except for the love of her life. He was too busy visualizing his next expedition at the time to notice. And that, dear ones, is why Rusty feels both like the luckiest young woman in the world, and the unluckiest, both at the same time.

      She slid off her bed, still remember that day. Danjani-ji had seemed almost too friendly, but she had written it off as his Indian nature, they seemed very gentle as a people. Least the ones she'd met and she knew quite a few. She always ate several blocks from the Museum, and there was a whole strip of Indian restaurants and grocery stores, opposite a whole string of Chinese restaurants and grocery stores on the opposite side. It brought a smile to her face. She could still see Missus Lee brooming the sidewalk in front of her laundry, which was sandwiched between Hong Kong Shrimp and Pattie Cakes, a specialty rice store that made cookies of balls of rice and coated them with special sugars and flavors.

      Just the thought of those cakes made her mouth water, at least until she tasted the hair that was still wrapped around her forehead, some of it dangling into her mouth. She spit out the loose strands, and then shuffle with a great big yawn blossoming on cute mouth. She liked it. All the guys did too, except Danish, who never seemed to notice anything about her.

      She reached her closet-sized bathroom and stood before the sink and a somewhat clouded over mirror. I've really got to clean this thing. She commented to nobody in particular, and then as if to get herself fully awake, she scrambled below the sink, going through the double doors below to scrounge out a paper towel roll and Windex.

      Ta-dah! She exclaimed, making fencing motions with the Windex, as if she were a musketeer, fending off blows with her paper towel roll.

      It was great fun until a loud thumping against the bathroom wall awakened her to where she was again. A thin voice came through the wafer thin wall. Rusty, you ain't practicing with Elephants in there, are you?

      Rusty screwed up her lips in a pout, sighed and then said. Sorry, Missus Gromlich, I can't sleep.

      Neither can I. Mrs. Gromlich rumbled back, this time louder.

      Sorry. I'll be quiet. Rusty promised, and then stuck her tongue out.

      I bet she'd kill for a triple dip banana split! She muttered under her breath so low no one could possibly hear it.

      I heard that. I'm on a diet. Mrs. Gromlich roared angrily. You should be glad you pay your rent on time, or you'd be hearing from my husband!

      Yeah, and I'm a flying saucer. Rusty grumbled back. Makes a face. She thought to herself no way she could have heard that. Time to experiment. I think I'm going to trash the place, I'm so angry.

      Don't make me get my husband up. You know how much he hates getting up at 3am in the morning!

      Or ever.

      What did you say? Mrs. Gromlich roared through the wall.

      Nothing. Nothing at all. Love you... Rusty let out a silent whew. Mrs. Gromlich had read her mind. Talking about weird neighbors. Scary too, because she was the landlady.

      And don't you forget it, honey. Mrs. Gromlich hollered through the wall. "I've got your number!'

      Rusty sighed, tossed her hair back behind her shoulders, and then slumped on the sink. Right. Zipping my lips. Moans softly. Trouble is. Everyone's got my number. How much more weird can this world get anyway. She said to the wall.

      Wait till you get married. Mrs. Gromlich hollered back through the wall. Weird is only the beginning of it all.

      Rusty burst into laughter then. A mind-reading landlady. A sucky life. A dashing hero who didn't even know she existed. How could you ask for more from a Monty Python kind of life?

      She finished cleaning the mirror as quietly as she could, then put everything away, closed the bathroom door and sat on the edge of her bed again.

      What a rotten life. She moaned. I miss my life back home. I had a back yard that stretched for miles, the nearest neighbor was ten miles away, and I could walk to school... She paused. Everyone walked to school. No busses, idiot!

      She broke into laughter, and then stopped when she saw her reflection in the mirror of her dresser. You're really a sad, sad soul. She uttered quietly, and then slipped back under her sheets, fluffing the pillow, before rolling over onto her right side. Her favorite position. She could look out through the bedroom window and see the top of the Empire State Building.

      King Kong where are you when I need you. Help! Rusty said, and then grinning like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, she closed her eyes.

      Chapter Two: New York, New York

      Rusty shrugged on her beat-up jacket, the one with flowers all over the back of it that her best friend, Betty had found for her in a thrift store. Betty was a cool one. She never wasted a dime, and never lost a minute. She was a lot like Danish, but a hell of a lot more feminine, thank God. If Danish had been more like her, well...that brought pause to her thoughts. Then what?

      Anyway as she made her way towards the subway station, dodging paperboys, school kids, and Moms hurrying them off to school, waving at neighbors she recognized, and whistling back at Taxi Drivers who made kissing sounds and motioned at her jacket as they passed. They grinned. Everyone liked Rusty, but Rusty it seemed. Well, not that she hated herself, just the way her life had turned out.

      Sure it had started out wonderful enough. A spank on the bottom. A beautiful baby, Missus Cummings. It's a girl.

      She could still remember her mother crying for joy, and her father swearing that now he'd have to buy a shotgun to keep the guys away. Her mother was a real looker. Even the teens these days found her gorgeous. She never seemed to age, which sometimes made Rusty smile, and sometimes jealous, because she was noticing a few rogue gray hairs these days. And she wasn't even that old. She was barely over twenty. Still almost a teenager, which she absolutely felt like whenever she saw Danish. He always made her feel so young. Betty thought he was ancient and too old for her, but she didn't think eight to ten years older was that...ancient.

      She grinned. Professor Danish, the six foot tall plus hero of the football team, King of the Nerds in college, probably wouldn't like that image of himself, unless he found it buried in an ancient burial ground, or tomb of the Egyptians, then he was all cool with it. Her cell rang and she clasped it to the side of her face, as she took a turn from the sidewalk down into the subway station below. People hurried on all sides of her, off to work, school, play, stealing, adventuring, whatever it was they did.

      Sometimes she thought about all those people around her, but then she thought about where she grew up, and she didn't mind so much. She'd take people anytime. They might not always be the best, but they were a mix, and everybody knows a dinner is always best served that has a main course, a desert and a drink.

      Rusty. She announced as she dropped several floors into the subway station. She wrangled some change from her pocket, deposited it for her ticket, and charged for the subway train just loading up. As she did a rather small man with the strangest face and grin she had ever seen bumped into her. Immediately, she felt for her money and keys. Nothing was missing.

      He turned back to her, a knowing smile on his face, did a wink, and ascended the flights of stairs away from her, and into the hustle and bustle of upper New York City. His wild Einstein mop of a hair bounced from view.

      Rusty. She said again into her phone. Finally, disgusted with it, she shook it, put it to her ear, and then put it away.

      She managed the final leap onto the train and settled down into a corner next to a hobo, who was snoring his head off. He had a cup in his lap.Feed the poor. It said with a smallish, misspelled handwriting.

      She shook her head. A sucker for the poor. She shook her change into the cup, and added a five for good measure. He never missed a beat in his snoring. She smiled, and settled back. Who was phoning her?

      Chapter Three: Danish is Best Served Cold

      Professor Danish. He answered into the black phone on his desktop. A dial tone announced nobody. Nobody.

      He cursed. That's the seventh time this morning. Better not be that stupid secretary of mine, or I'll can her.

      Good morning, Professor. A cute Co-ed said as she dipped her face into his office and waved. We still on for Algebra?

      He nodded his head, not even granting her the grace of his full attention.

      She wriggled like a caught fish, and closed the door. Outside she giggled along with several other Co-eds, all watching her. I've got a date! She exclaimed.

      The door suddenly opened and Danish looked outside. He touched a finger to his forehead to the other girls, and then said. Melinda, it's not a date. Don't you go saying things like that about me. You'll get me in trouble.

      I'm sorry, Professor Danish. She said back coquettishly, her eyes blinking rapidly.

      He shook his head and re-entered his office on the words. Girls!

      Oh Professor! The Co-eds sighed and walked off, giggling.

      Danish sat down behind his worn desk, considering the carvings in the top of it. The one he had made when he was measuring an Egyptian skull with the latest laser calipers. They had been overpowered and blown a fuse, as well as part of his desk. It was amazing he only lost a chunk of his hand, instead of the whole thing. He examined the scars across the palm of it, and then shook his head again. Girls!

      On that cue Rusty entered, rushing inside, breathing hard. Her arms were simply buried in packages and mail. You couldn't even see her face.

      Not that he wanted to, she thought. I don't know how that man functions without me, she thought to herself.

      Put them on the desk. He said without looking up from a piece of scroll in front of him that he was unraveling.

      But...

      Just do it! He said in exasperation.

      Suppressing a scowl that threatened to ruin her day, Rusty did as ordered. Danish had to look up when his desktop was quite literally buried in mail. He threw some of it aside, and glared at her.

      You could have warned me. He snarled.

      You're impossible! Rusty exploded, tears ripping a messy course down her freshly made up face.

      She slammed the door as she exited.

      Danish shook his head. Now what did I do?

      Chapter Four: It's a Man's World

      Rusty leaned against the bathroom mirror, crying her eyes out. It had finally gotten to her. Not only did he not notice her. He didn't even care about her. She was so miserable she wanted to destroy herself and him. For a moment she smiled as she visualized him on his knees before her, begging her forgiveness.

      Then she broke down and began sobbing again. What's the use? I'm a total loser. She thought as she cried her heart out.

      Rusty. She heard a man's voice outside.

      Go away! She said.

      Rusty! I'm sorry.

      I don't care if you are. Go away! She hollered back.

      Suddenly, the door to the bathroom opened, and a dozen roses fell to the floor at her feet. The door shut with a slam. She could hear footsteps walking away.

      She kicked the roses into the first bathroom stall, grunting with anger, and then she squealed like a hurt animal and dashed into the stall.

      Danish was seated behind his desk, his mail on the floor around his desk in a very untidy manner, when his door opened slightly.

      Did you men it? Rusty's voice asked from outside.

      My office hours are 8am to Noon. Come back later. He replied without thinking.

      Before he could recant his words, the door slammed and he heard the sound of Rusty running away.

      Oh crap! He said. Now I've really done it.

      He looked over at a statue on one of his filing cabinets. It had a grotesque face and was eating a man's heart out. Don't you dare grin at me!

      Danish grabbed a cowboy hat he had on a hayrack near the door, and ran out. I'm really going to hate myself for this later on.

      Chapter Five: Resurrection

      Rusty tossed her jacket against her bedroom wall, then ran into her bedroom and threw herself upon it. She just lay there quietly, thinking. She had cried as much as she was going to. Time to make changes in her life. Everyone had a crisis. Right? She shook her head. Not everyone. Only her, it seemed.

      Her cell shook against her. She had failed to turn it off. She let it vibrate. Don't you dare try to apologize to me again, you big jerk. You big...gorgeous...

      Then she did begin crying again. As she did, she felt this kind of warmth spread all over her body, as if she were lifting from it and floating, then her eyes grew heavier and heavier.

      For an instant the image of a very kind and handsome face ignited in her consciousness. I love you. He said. Forever!

      She heard an incredible explosion, which spiraled downwards into an incessant pounding on her front door. Go away! She moaned. Can't you tell I'm dying in here? She complained.

      The pounding continued.

      Finally, she got up. She rubbed her eyes. Had she been dreaming just then? It was so real. It didn't make any sense to her. Then the pounding brought her back to reality again.

      She went to the door and opened it. There was no one there.

      She closed it and started back to her bedroom. The pounding started again.

      She ran to the door and flung it open. There was no one there. She'd had enough. She screamed down the hallway. I'm sick of your childishness. I've had enough and I'm not going o take any...

      Suddenly, a hand grabbed her from the other side, spun her around and a face came down and kissed her fully and sweetly on the lips. She struggled at first, and then relaxed into it, her eyes closed. It stopped. She waited for more. But it didn't come. When she opened her eyes, no one was there. No one at all.

      I've flipped my friggin' lid, is what I've done! She snorted and then went back inside, slamming the door behind her.

      She looked at her living room and snorted. It's a box!

      It was a box. Who could afford more in New York on a secretary's salary? She was lucky to have found this box. An older woman named Maryanne McFarthlin had rented it to her as a kindness, saying that she didn't need it while she was out of the country. That was five years ago.

      Rusty dutifully sent Maryanne updates on what was going on with her, thank yous, birthday greets, holiday ones, but no word back. She finally stopped sending them this year, though that made her a bit nervous to do so. She figured if the woman was dead sooner or later someone would come pounding on her door with an eviction notice. But so far, she knocked on the wood of her old sofa, and sat down. So far. Nothing.

      She flung her feet up on the small coffee table in front of the sofa, not the wood of it, but a stack of Architectural Digests she always got from

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