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    Pleidian Tales: A Collection of Short Stories
    Pleidian Tales: A Collection of Short Stories
    Pleidian Tales: A Collection of Short Stories
    Ebook112 pages1 hour

    Pleidian Tales: A Collection of Short Stories

    By Adam Lee D'Amato-Neff

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A collection of short stories by the best selling author of Za'Varuk's Stone. Barbarians, Bachus and Hecate, a mutant squirrel, and a cauldron of blood. Plus a special sneak-preview of Pine Tree Wind: Pleides Series: Book II & a minor adventure using the new Fantasy of Eight gaming system; play the stories you read!
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisheriUniverse
    Release dateApr 9, 2002
    ISBN9781469715667
    Pleidian Tales: A Collection of Short Stories
    Author

    Adam Lee D'Amato-Neff

    Adam lives in Northern Virginia with his wife and two children. He is currently working on several writing projects.

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      Book preview

      Pleidian Tales - Adam Lee D'Amato-Neff

      All Rights Reserved © 2002 by Adam Lee D’Amato-Neff

      No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

      Writers Club Press

      an imprint of iUniverse, Inc.

      For information address:

      iUniverse, Inc.

      5220 S. 16th St., Suite 200

      Lincoln, NE 68512

      www.iuniverse.com

      All characters and events are fictitious and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

      ISBN: 0-595-22531-4

      ISBN: 978-1-4697-1566-7 (eBook)

      Contents

      INTRODUCTION

      THE MAKING OF A SLAVE

      ORIGO MALI (ORIGIN OF THE EVIL)

      SMITTEN WITH FOLLY & BLOOD

      NIGHTMARES BORN OF BLISS

      THE STARLING WREN

      BARBARIAN WOES

      A PAIR OF GEMS

      About the Author

      A P P E N D I X

      Notes

      To all the people who still hold imagination in their minds though time and age may beg otherwise.

      To see a world in a grain of sand, and a heaven in a wild flower.

      William Blake, Auguries of Innocence

      INTRODUCTION

      This collection of short stories take place in the real universe, but with a magickal twist as things may perhaps be. It assumes the theory that Earth is a part of the Pleides, and together makes up a string of eight star systems around which there is one habitable planet. These stories take place on Earth and the furthest planet Alcyone. Future Volumes will incorporate the other planets. There are some ties to the Pleides Series and the Moonweaver memoirs written by the same author.

      THE MAKING OF A SLAVE

      So where are you going tonight, the swarthy young man questioned, whipping his long blonde hair out of his chestnut eyes with a sharp twist of his head? His clothing was disheveled and worn through in many places and he was in desperate need of a bath.

      Check it out man, his friend offered gleefully. He handed him a newspaper clipping with one hand and took a long draw off a large mug of dark ale. He seemed rather satisfied with both his stolen beer run and his newest adventure that was about to unfold. Dragons in warring flight battled silently on his pewter vessel as he fondly mused over what may transpire this evening.

      His friend chuckled after quickly perusing the clipping and handed it back. "Come on Jason, I swear you’re the biggest energy junky I ever met. Between joining one magical group or another, going to any and every festival within 300 miles, sitting in on every sweat lodge, drumming circle, and magical gathering that most people hadn’t even heard of, it’s a wonder you don’t either go insane or simply explode from all the wayward forces. Now you’re gonna hook up with another new coven? Man you give witches a bad name.

      I honestly don’t believe in any of that junk, but its hard to deny the rush one gets from merely standing around a drumming circle with the fire blazing high, and naked people dancing around under the moonlit sky. You’ve got to be up for some kind of award or something."

      Having perfectly maintained his image once again, Jason beamed forth the most toothy and fake smile he possessed, and summarily drained the rest of his large mug of ale. He was the epitome of the contemporary rogue, and while he usually only entered into situations that eventually proved profitable, he did have a fancy for the esoteric sides of society. It was just fun, plain and simple. He understood that on some level these events had a real religious and spiritual tone to them, but he honestly didn’t care. He went to kick up his heels, get up whatever choice skirts happened to be around, and play his thieving hands.

      Thankfully he was good when he did partake of free merchandise or empty someone’s wallet, for these types of settings there was a tight clique and if he had been found out about he would have quickly been blacklisted from any future events. His charm had brought him far in the world, certainly not by his less than opulent housing arrangements or furnishings, but well enough to live the life he chose and to be free of heart although perhaps tainted in spirit.

      Jason turned the volume up on the stereo where Stone Temple Pilots were jamming away. He quickly swung a crimson colored Fender guitar over his shoulder and started playing along. The strong ale kicked in and gave him a wave of euphoria. He played along for a few bars and then started ripping into a sweet solo, his fingers flying along like agitated little hornets stamping out their duress in melodies and triplet form.

      The solo ended and the lead singer came back in with a verse. He wanted to play some more, but knew he had to get going soon. He liked his friend Tobin, but he could also be very irritating at times. He knew as soon as he left he’d invite some of his druggy-friends in to party and they’d end up trashing the place, but he kind of liked having

      the guy around if perhaps for no other reason than to support his own ego.Well I guess you don’t have much time, his friend offered. The clipping said eight o’clock sharp.

      Riiiiight, he replied, drawing out the word for emphasis. How do I look?

      His friend gave him the once over. Jason was thin but well muscled and presently wore black jeans and a T-shirt that read, Surgical Technicians do it on the table! He sported knee-high leather boots that had more buckles than seemed tasteful. His dark ensemble complemented his shaggy raven hair, pale skin, and his sparkling cerulean orbs belied a mischievous nature and an easygoing demeanor.

      He clapped Tobin on the shoulder before heading out the door and then turned at the portal as if considering a warning before heading out. Don’t drink all my beer bro, or I’ll have to kill you! See ya. His roommate just gave him an oh I won’t kind of nod of his head and smiled wistfully before the door finally shut.

      Jason walked out past his Harley (a 65 Panhead), truly the only love he had ever had, and headed down the walk to the street. The night was clear and rather pleasant for August in Washington D.C. He skirted a few street people begging for a buck, though he knew that in all reality they made a better living than most. More often than not this was a business to them and their ratty appearance was nothing more than an elaborate facade. But, he truly had to applaud the efforts of another scam artist, although he saw such tactics beneath him.

      He came to the corner in front of a well-used convenience store and sparked up a Marlboro cigarette. He took a deep drag, savoring the warm smoke and the sudden increase in his heartbeat, then exhaled slowly, sucking the smoke up his nose. The street was dirty and broken, in desperate need of repair. Perhaps the taxation without representation, yuppie infested, political epicenter might find the funds to fix it, but Jason really didn’t think so.

      His wry and somewhat pessimistic view on reality was the comfort he enjoyed. The list of things that brought him happiness was short. It included strong brew, his guitar, the Panhead, a smoke, and whatever adventure and women happened to come his way. He supposed actually taking up a full-time job or going to college would be the respectable thing to do, yet respect was measured by a different kind of slide rule on the street. He had respect, and while certainly no kingpin or Mafia man, he enjoyed life his way and on his terms.

      This evening might so happen to supply more interesting tales for his memoirs one day. He would just have to wait and see.

      He didn’t have to wait long.

      Jason had only taken a handful of drags off the cancer stick before a brown Cadillac pulled up to the corner. The window came down instantly and a beautiful lady in her early to mid-thirties, sporting crimson lips and a sexy smile told him to hop in. He nonchalantly flicked the butt of his cigarette into the street and jumped in the back.

      You’re here for the ritual right, a burly man with a scruffy beard and a wild look in his dark eyes questioned? His thick knuckles were wrapped tightly about the steering wheel and the new passenger gulped at the prospect of those hands choked around his neck had he possibly vented the wrong response.

      Jason met his gaze in the rearview mirror. Yea, totally. He sat in the middle of the

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