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    Baverstock's Allsorts Volume 1, Second Edition: A Short Story Collection
    Baverstock's Allsorts Volume 1, Second Edition: A Short Story Collection
    Baverstock's Allsorts Volume 1, Second Edition: A Short Story Collection
    Ebook175 pages2 hours

    Baverstock's Allsorts Volume 1, Second Edition: A Short Story Collection

    By Jessica Baverstock

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    About this ebook

    A trader on a distant planet discovers an impossible stone, an entirely pleasant kidnapping goes awry, and a young woman learns what it means to be a world nomad.

    Now with more than double the stories, this second edition of Volume 1 contains an eclectic collection of twenty-one short-short pieces.

    Showcasing the versatility, imagination, comic wit, and pathos of author Jessica Baverstock, this perfect companion to an afternoon tea break or a morning commute will tickle your funny bone and tug at your heartstrings.

    Baverstock's Allsorts Volume 1 draws together science-fiction, period fiction, comedy, poetry, romance, literary fiction, a children’s story, and even a newspaper article with a twist in a collection that has something for everyone.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJessica Baverstock
    Release dateFeb 28, 2018
    ISBN9781370734764
    Baverstock's Allsorts Volume 1, Second Edition: A Short Story Collection
    Author

    Jessica Baverstock

    Jessica Baverstock has been a storyteller since she learned how to talk, and dreamed of becoming a writer from the day she first saw a typewriter at age 3. She writes an eclectic mix of endearing stories, crossing from science-fiction to historical fiction and everything in between.She is an Australian author and blogger. In her early twenties she moved to China. Now she lives in the South West of Australia with her husband and a modest book collection. When she's not busy working on her next story or globetrotting across oceans, she's usually curled up watching a good movie.

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      Book preview

      Baverstock's Allsorts Volume 1, Second Edition - Jessica Baverstock

      Dear Reader,

      Welcome to the second edition of the first volume of Baverstock's Allsorts. (What a mouthful!)

      Let me take a moment of your time here to explain the premise of Baverstock's Allsorts and why there is a second edition so you can enjoy it to the full.

      From the time I started telling stories as a small child, it was apparent that I loved creating stories in just about all genres. One minute I'd be tinkering with a modern-day adventure tale, the next I'd be off in some futuristic world with spaceships and strange planets, and shortly after that I'd be deep into a new mystery story.

      That fascination with all types of storytelling continued on into adulthood. I kept thinking I'd finally settle down into one genre, but it just never happened. And so I have decided to embrace my eclectic nature and make it a feature of my writing.

      I have therefore started the Baverstock's Allsorts series, where I shall collect together just about all the short stories and small whatnots that I have created (and shall create in future) so that you can rummage through them and enjoy them as you please.

      Imagine the experience this way. You and I are sharing afternoon tea together, sitting at a round glass table in a conservatory on a bright spring day, surrounded by exotic plants and spectacular views through the nearby windows. As we sip our respective cups of tea (or perhaps yours is a coffee), I bring out a tin of assorted candies, filled with my favourites – from startlingly sweet liquors to bitter dark chocolates and everything in between. I offer them to you with direction on the flavours available and what you can expect when you bite into each one. From there you pick and choose as you like.

      That's the experience I am going for with this series. I have pulled together nineteen different stories, poems, and tidbits of mine for your enjoyment in this volume. You might pick through them one at a time during a commute or you might wish to devour them in one sitting. Before each story, I will give you a brief description of what is about to ensue and you can then skip around as you wish.

      I have arranged the stories so that the tone starts out rather serious, then heads into quirky-land, and eventually leaves you with a sweet taste in your mouth, hopefully looking forward to more in the next volume.

      As with any collection – be it fictional or confectionery – there may be options that are not to your taste. But there may also (hopefully) be favourites and pleasant surprises.

      While there may not be consistency of topic or genre in this collection, I can promise you that every story included in this book has been written with my characteristic passion and love of storytelling. These are all stories of the heart, each of which I greatly enjoyed writing.

      Now, as to why there is a second edition, here is my brief explanation.

      When I released the first volume of Baverstock's Allsorts, it contained eight items – five short stories, two poems, and a fictional newspaper article. At the time, those were the only short stories I had to my name. (I do have a few from my childhood which shall, naturally, not see the light of day.)

      Since then I have written literally dozens of short stories. Now that I have come to look at compiling a second volume of Baverstock's Allsorts, it has occurred to me that my short stories fall into several distinct time periods. Volume 1 contained a few of my early stories, but there were easily a dozen more that fell into that category. Rather than having a second volume with those stories, I decide to put all of my early stories into one volume and re-release it.

      And that, dear reader, is the explanation as to the creation of the volume you now hold in your hand.

      With that explanation complete, I invite you to begin reading my collection of early stories.

      I do hope you enjoy.

      —Jessica Baverstock

      Muswellbrook, Australia

      September, 2017

      Introduction to The Stone Trader

      We begin with a science-fiction tale, set on a faraway planet.

      This story takes place in my Stone Keeper universe. I have been dreaming of a series in that universe for over a decade now. This story gives a glimpse of a key element in that series and is hopefully only the first of many more stories about these stones.

      The Stone Trader

      THE TRADER PUSHED the oxygen mask over his face and inhaled. This stone had better be good. Shoving the oxygen bottle back in his pocket, he continued trudging through the rock-strewn desert. The thin air toyed with his head and stomach; the pain of drawing breath clawed at his lungs.

      Ice crystals mixed with dirt crunched beneath his feet, reminding him of the snow he used to play in as a boy. Long ago.

      Shimmering gray dirt stretched into the horizon, merging with the dim sky, the monotonous landscape only broken by dark rock formations in the distance and the white outlines of the two women walking in front of him.

      The rustle of his bulky jacket alerted the women to his lagging pace. The older woman looked back over her shoulder, flashing a harsh smile as if pleased at his struggle. He would have cursed her name, if he had known it.

      With humankind scattered among the stars in poverty-stricken colonies, only two things connected the last remnants of the race: a makeshift government, too busy arguing over a chain of command to be of use to its citizens, and traders, distributing necessities as they flew between colonies. Traders were always welcome, received with the traditional greeting, Peace to you and your colony; establishing connection, a glimmer of friendship, before trading began and a scowl eclipsed all.

      Here. The younger woman pointed into a jagged rift in the gray, the opening of a fissure. She turned and climbed down the rock face, disappearing into the darkness.

      He cursed under his breath. Walking was hard enough in these infernal conditions, but clambering down a fissure promised to be torture. Why couldn't they present the stone to him in warmth and safety, instead of setting off on this death march? Wheezing, nauseous and calculating the likelihood of injury, he was seriously rethinking his occupation.

      The older woman grunted, standing over him and pointing with her chin for him to descend

      He let out a sigh and immediately regretted releasing hard-earned air. The mist of his breath danced in front of him. Turning around, he swung a foot over the edge and clutched at the rock with his gloved hands.

      The fissure was not as deep as he expected, fifteen feet to the rock floor where the younger woman waited for him with a flashlight. He shivered in the shadows, the weak sunlight already unable to reach this far. He took another puff of his oxygen bottle as the older woman easily clambered down the rock face and then gestured for them to continue.

      This stone had better be spectacular. Tucking his face further into the folds of his jacket, he followed the younger woman through the winding crevice.

      He traded many things – ship parts, medical supplies, even specialty foods from time to time – but he'd discovered a lucrative niche in trading rocks. Among the tired, cynical colonists were a deluded few who still believed in beauty; who craved owning things that glittered, glowed or shone, and had the means to pay. But there was an even more elite market, one he had personally cultivated – the romantic scientist who believed the universe held the answers to as many questions as it asked; who believed that locked away in the rocks and minerals may be the panacea for all that ailed mankind. Connecting these men with their dreams was an amusing sideline – one that paid. He hoped this stone would appeal to those with funds to make his trouble worthwhile.

      He shivered constantly now, the cold penetrating his clothing. Neither woman seemed affected. Perhaps they were used to it. Or perhaps they were using warming pads and hadn't seen fit to share.

      Their message had interested him. A stone that glowed, perhaps even emitted energy – although they did not provide any evidence, not even their names, only a terse invitation, Come see for yourself. The thought of visiting this lonely colony, renowned for its cold and primitive conditions, had made him hesitate. But business was slow and he was curious. If he'd known the invitation included a trek past colony boundaries into the wasteland, he would have stayed on Evergreen Station and tried his luck at cards.

      The flashlight picked out an opening, the outline of a small cave and a glimmer of silver from a tent nestled within. The younger woman unzipped the tent door and stepped through. He followed.

      The warmth inside caused his frozen cheeks to sear with pain. For a moment he missed the icy numbness.

      The younger woman put down the flashlight, revealing the room from the ground up. The tent was fitted out for an extended stay, two beds, a heater and cooking facilities were the sparse extent of the provided comforts. Ropes and surveying equipment lay scattered on one of the beds while in a corner sat a desk with papers and rock samples strewn across it.

      The older woman stepped into the tent behind him and zipped the door. Both women removed their jackets. He followed, grateful to be free of the bulk.

      Well? he said. Where is it?

      The younger woman took off her gloves and pulled a key from her pocket. She unlocked the drawer of the desk. Watching his reaction, she reached in.

      A sudden hum tickled his eardrums and a green glow emanated from the drawer. Slowly she raised her hand, revealing the stone.

      He stifled a gasp.

      In her palm sat an equilateral pyramid. Three visible sides glowed like a dim light bulb; the base – a fourth triangle – rested on the woman's hand. As she brought it closer to him, the humming intensified.

      He had been wrong. Far from an amusing diversion, this stone promised riches beyond imagining. Scientists would scramble to outbid each other. He could retire, buy himself a little bungalow near a hot spring and never be cold again. It would be by far the most valuable treasure to pass through his hands. Unless...

      Unless it was a hoax.

      Sobered by this thought, he reached out to check.

      Don't touch it! the younger woman cried out, pulling away from him.

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