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the Long Room and other Tales
the Long Room and other Tales
the Long Room and other Tales
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the Long Room and other Tales

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this is a collection of short stories and poems that some of my friends have liked; I hope that you like them too, so without further ado, let us take a walk into the long room, where reality is bent, and where our deepest hopes and fears are met.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherAndrew D Hunt
Release dateSep 24, 2010
the Long Room and other Tales
Author

Andrew D Hunt

I am a flabby forty three year old father of four, who has been writing for just over ten years, though have only been committed to the craft in the last five. I have written several short stories and a small amount of Poetry which has been yet to be published. Though I have had some praised upon "abctales".I have a love for science fiction and the macabre and would have to say that I am influenced by Ray Bradbury, Philip K Dick, Michael Crichton and of course, Stephen King. Though I have also read the works of H P lovecraft, and H G wells. At the moment, I am living in the magic town of Steyning in England; where I am working on a novel.

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    Book preview

    the Long Room and other Tales - Andrew D Hunt

    The Long Room

    by

    Andrew D. Hunt

    SMASHWORDS EDITION

    * * * * *

    PUBLISHED BY:

    Gerald M. Weinberg on Smashwords

    Jigglers:

    Aremac A Century Later

    Copyright © 2010 by Gerald M. Weinberg

    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 person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's words

    Contents

    1.The clouds of Venus.

    2.By the Dark morning sky.

    3..The cupboard.

    4.Her Wracked image rests... a poem.

    5.in the company of crows.

    6.Ode to Venus.

    7.The Long room

    8.the bobtail....a poem

    9.The woman in the wind

    10.Days that never happened in a childhood that never was

    11.Images of my Grandmother

    12And the sea is eternal.

    13.A pair of Angels wings

    14.learning curve

    15.sunrise

    By the clouds of Venus.

    The circular door to the holographic observation deck creaked as it half curled open before screeching then finally shuddering to a faltering stop. The sound made second commander Alex Brant slightly grimace, as he felt his teeth go numb in his mouth. Great, he thought sarcastically. His drew his narrow lips, into a tight thin line of disdain and frustration; as he silently added the door manifold to the ever growing list of secondary system’s, that he had yet to add to the corporate mainframe. With a sigh, he looked down at his holo-watch. He had received a call from Tysoe, almost two hours ago, that the daily conference had been reset for 1000hrs and it was already 1015. Late, he thought bitterly before adding as an after-thought. Not that it mattered.

    He stooped forward and slipped through the partially opened door and entered the semi-circular room. The strong sour smelling odour, similar to decomposing meat, forced him to look up. Above his head several members of the ship’s crew were standing on the ceiling, busily attending to the two long lines of large, slowly undulating cubes that curled the entire circumference of the room. The crew murmured deeply as the cubes shuddered violently; glistening with a silky sweat that shone in the half light. Brant felt his face pale and his stomach churn, as the cubes phased in colour from purple to blue and finally to sickly green; as a dark liquid -not unlike the colour of blood- he blackly mused- shuddered, pulsed through the cubes and then repulsed, rhythmically back into the walls of the ship once more. They were the latest phase of the computer revolution. Part machine, yet, not so much built from electronics, than created from human stem cells that had been genetically manufactured in biochemical labs on earth; first into neurones and later into living brain cells. And it was these that gave the machine a form of half life, known only as the corporate.

    The Corporate was supposed to send the nano-probes it manufactured within their cube core, through to the secondary systems that ran the ship. However, over the last three weeks, the corporate had become moody for want of a better word; which was why it stank and why half the crew were busy trying to fix them. He shuddered visibly, as he could feel the corporate detect him. So he decided to look away and towards the huge holographic projection in front of him. It filled half the room; and even now, one month later, it still stole his breath away, like an angel in the night.

    There were two images... one of the sun; already shaded down to well below its natural light, pulsing away into the night. Sending huge star kissed swirling gossamer strands, that curled and overlapped upon each other, like enwrapped lover’s, over, over and over again. Then slowly from the shadow it came. It curled into view like a huge milky green and ghostly thumbnail, eerily shining with a spectral, mystical yet ominous light. And as it shone, it reflected like a crystal flower upon his eyes; the planet Venus. Brant’s heart softened and his eyes slightly moistened as he looked at it. It seemed to beckon him -that huge thumbnail of milky green- to slowly curl him apart from the inside out.

    He made his way to the first available grav-chair that had been positioned about the shining white hexagonal mapping table and sat down. His thoughts full of dreams and desires, as he stared upon the darkening orb in front of him. How long have we been here? He thought. Six weeks... six pointless weeks we’ve been at standby with the payload in the hold... he looked away from the holographic image and with deliberate disdain painted all over his face; he turned right towards the mission commander Joseph Tysoe.

    I wonder what’s keeping him... Brant thought icily. There’s something going on he’s been quiet lately... he’s just too bloody quiet.

    Brant was brought back into the conference room, by the scratching, grinding hiss of the opening door once more. He turned in his chair and then smiled, to see second lieutenant Trisha Emhart enter the control room. She slowly walked towards Alex, and smiled secretly at him. Her auburn hair curled away from her elfin features, her wide set green eyes, shining with the promise of deep sexual expectation, tension and finally, blissful release..

    Alex returned a smouldering stare which shone from his oval dark brown eyes. He moved in his chair slightly to make space in his trousers; as his flaccid penis began to plump up. With the eyes of a predator, he stroked the four day old stubble on his narrow, though not overly pointed chin, while he began making mental notes regarding the positions of her protector straps and then the side zipper of her -just a little too short to be regulation issue- coral blue uniform. He had to admit that she wore it, both sexually and very naturally, as it extenuated the gentle curve of her well formed breasts’, her slender waist as well as extenuating her, very sexy, wide set hips; as she slowly, and very deliberately walked in front of him. She then slid by him, so close that their bodies delicately touched together briefly, making Brant’s heart race, before picking up speed to where the Commander sat watching them both impatiently. Tysoe took the sheet from Emhart, then looked down and studied the thin sheet of almost clear polymer; his face a mask of wrinkles from the afterglow of the mapping table.

    ‘Commander Brant...’ began a gentle disembodied voice. ‘...You must learn to temper your emotions a little better.’ The gentle voice of the corporate unnerved him, and forced him from his grav-chair.

    ‘Go screw yourself.’Brant said caustically, in swift reply. ‘By the way, I have another forty seven jobs to add to your list. So do what you’re supposed to do. ‘Commander Brant, we are of the opinion you no longer care for us.’ The corporate replied.

    Brant looked up at the cubes that shuddered pointedly. My God, he thought, was that actually a sarcastic comment. He thought before he replied. ‘Why don’t you do what you’re programm-’

    ‘That’s enough!’ Tysoe snapped.

    Brant shut up but stared towards Tysoe with cold hostility burning from is eyes.

    Alex Brant hated Joseph Tysoe with a passion. They were total opposites, in mode of approach, and in style. In times past, the difference could be put down to character. Tysoe had the classical, intellectual temperament, which Brant thought painfully involved study caution then debate... However Brant, being foremost a military man, was more physical.And being a man of flesh, he simply wanted to ...crap on all the god-damned intellectualisation, and get the job done! as he had put it one day a little over a month ago. That comment had ended with him both in a fist fight, with a man from operations, and a stint in the brig; but he didn’t care. He had one job on this ship -the Alcestis 1- and that involved the delivery of the payload, anything else, as far as he was concerned was simply a total waste of time.

    Brant seethed a flaming red inside, as the commander, whilst reading the report, abstractly rubbed his chin with the back of his knuckles, before he put it down. He knew exactly what that meant... postponement.

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