Strange Portals: Ink Slingers' Fantasy/Horror Anthology

Strange Portals

An Anthology

Presented by

The Ink Slinger’s League

First Smashwords Edition 2014

Copyright 2014 Ink Slinger’s League

All works copyright of their respective authors.

Compiled by Joleene Naylor

Published by Smashwords

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 hard work of this author.

Cover image courtesy of Nav and canstockphoto

Cover by Joleene Naylor

**********

One of the best parts of reading is being transported to another world and forgetting your cares for a little while. With the holiday hustle and bustle kicking into high gear, even a brief break from the craziness can help you keep on going when you’d rather drop into an eggnog-induced coma.

Within these virtual pages, you’ll find portals to twenty-two new worlds, full of all sorts of fantastic things. There are vampires, zombies, and ghosts (Oh, my!), not to mention werewolves and witches. Take a load off and escape into one of these holiday havens, or kick back for a couple of hours and visit them all. They’re our gift to you this holiday season.

Enjoy the stories. Enjoy the holidays. And enjoy the eggnog.

-Kay Kauffman

**********

Table of Contents

Christmas Spirit by Kay Kauffman

Northern Lights by Tricia Drammeh

The Best Gift I Can Give by DM Yates

Against the Evil Eye Adan Ramie

Henry by CG Copolla

Buried Alive by Rami Ungar

Verchiel by Joleene Naylor

Samantha’s Day by B.G. Hope

Another Family by Mark R Hunter

The Leprechaun’s Gift by Terry Compton

Becoming Harper by Meagan Provan

Artwork by Roger Lawrence

In the Beginning by Bonnie Mutchler

Werewolf by Roxanna Mathews

The Hole by AK Stein

Honor Killing JK Rosaline

A Bloody Story of Vampires by Barbara G. Tarn

A Couple of Dogsbodys by Roger Lawrence

Predator by Joleene Naylor

Travelers of the Loneliest Road by Rami Ungar

Paparazzi by Adan Ramie

Thank You

Christmas Spirit

By Kay Kauffman

It's the most wonderful time of the year, Karen sang halfheartedly as she bustled about the kitchen. Sunny Christmas mornings were her favorite and this one was shaping up to be the sunniest yet.

The kids were still asleep, but she knew it wouldn't be long before they were up, the very picture of eager anticipation as they bolted from bed, racing each other to see what Santa had left for them under the Christmas tree. It would be harder this year without Nathan there. But she tried not to think about that.

Karen smiled, looking out the window onto snow that glittered like diamonds. Her ears perked up as little footsteps echoed down the stairs. The stampede had begun, led by Frank and Paul.

Merry Christmas, Mom! the twins called as they ran past the kitchen doorway.

Merry Christmas, darlings, she called back as Sarah, Amelia, and Fred thundered past. She glanced around, mentally checking off items on her to-do list, then poured herself a cup of tea.

Mom, are you coming? Amelia, the oldest, called from the living room.

I’ll be there in a minute, she called as the oven beeped. Just let me get the turkey in, okay?

But Mom –

Karen carefully shoved her biggest roaster into the oven. The scraping of the pan against the rack and the screech of the oven door closing drowned out her daughter’s impatient objections as she prayed that the turkey wouldn’t dry out or boil over. This year’s bird was so big that it almost didn’t fit in the pan, but with three growing boys to feed, she’d be lucky if there were any leftovers.

Momentarily satisfied, she grabbed her tea and headed into the living room. The kids had lit a fire in the fireplace while they waited for her and impatience was written on each precious face as she entered the room. For a brief moment, she thought she saw Nathan in his usual place by the tree and she stopped short. She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them again, he was gone.

Mommy, are you okay? Fred asked as Karen sank into her recliner.

I'm fine, sweetheart, I'm fine, she said, her voice shaking. I just thought I saw something, that's all. Now, who wants to do the honors this year?

Me me me! I want to, Mommy! Oh, please can I? Sarah shouted above the others.

Karen laughed. Hmm. I wonder if someone else would like a turn, she teased, looking at each eager face in turn. Okay, Sarah, hop to it!

Yay! Sarah shot up from her seat like a rocket and quickly handed out first the stockings and then the gifts.

Karen struggled to keep a smile on her face as she watched the kids sort through their stockings and rip into their presents. She’d always wanted a large family, and five children certainly made for a larger than average family these days, but she never dreamed she’d be raising them all without Nathan. Nothing was the same without him; nothing was as bright and beautiful as it should have been. Especially Christmas.

No matter how bright and sunny the day, Christmas would never be the same without him. Tears began sliding silently down her face.

Karen...

She blinked, startled by his voice. Nathan was sitting on the floor at her feet, wearing the same silly reindeer sweater he wore every Christmas. For a second, the dancing reindeer made her smile, but then she blinked again and saw that the only thing on the floor at her feet was a pile of wrapping paper two feet tall. Frank and Paul were pelting each other with crumpled balls of gift wrap while Fred and Sarah examined their new Lego sets and Amelia alphabetized her stack of new books. Karen set her gifts on the end table to her right and slipped quietly from the room, pausing at the doorway just long enough to admire the scene.

The kitchen beckoned, its warmth and brightness drawing her in. She stopped in front of the sink, stared out the window for a moment, and sighed, closing her eyes as she tried to shut out the sounds of merriment coming from the living room.

Karen, what are you doing?

She let her head droop at the sound of his voice. I don't know, Nathan, she said, sighing as he placed his hands on her shoulders. She spun around and buried her face in his neck, shivering at the sudden cold. I miss you so much and I thought I could do this, but I can't. Not today. You should be here celebrating with us!

"But I am here, Karen! He laughed, lifting her chin so she was looking him in the eye. I'm here with you every day, right here, he said, pointing to her heart. And I'm with the kids, too."

Nathan, you know what I mean. That's not the same. I miss you so much.

I know you do, darling, and I'm sorry it has to be this way, he murmured, wrapping her once more in an icy embrace. But you've got to let me go. We'll be together again one day, but right now, you're needed here.

So are you! she cried, willing him to stay. I need you, Nathan. Please – don’t go.

I love you. I love you so very much. He glanced back at the doorway, his smile slowly fading. Take good care of those crazy kids.

Mom? Are you okay?

Karen blinked. Nathan had gone; Amelia was standing in the doorway. For a moment she felt terribly alone, but as she looked at her daughter, a funny thing happened. Amelia, who was a perfect blend of her parents and favored neither one nor the other, suddenly began to look just a little bit more like her father. Karen's mouth fell open as Nathan gazed out at her from their daughter's eyes.

Mom? What's the matter? Why are you looking at me like that?

What? Oh, nothing, dear. No reason.

So, who were you talking to out here? Amelia asked as they slowly headed back toward the living room.

What on Earth makes you think I was talking to someone?

I dunno. But I'd have sworn I heard you talking to Daddy, she said, stopping in the office doorway. And I'd have sworn I heard him answer. I miss him so much, Mom.

We all do, honey.

Do you think he knows?

I'd bet my life on it, Karen said, forcing a smile. But he's always with us, dear; we carry him with us in our hearts. And someday, when the time is right, we'll all see him again.

As they walked through the office, Karen picked up the bible on her desk and turned to Luke. The crinkly paper felt as fragile as the smile on her face as she carefully flipped the pages. She took a deep breath, letting it out as she sat down on the couch next to her daughter.

Will you read us the Christmas story, Amelia? she asked. This had been Nathan’s favorite part of the day. She couldn’t let it die with him, but she knew she couldn’t read the passage in his place, either.

Of course, Amelia said, taking the bible.

Peace settled over the room as Amelia read the familiar story and for the first time in months, Karen didn't feel alone. Merry Christmas, Nathan, she whispered, wherever you are.

*****

If you enjoyed this story you might like to read more of Kay’s writing. Such as…

Tuesday Daydreams: A Journal in Verse

by Kay Kauffman

Natural poetry at its finest.

Capturing the life and imagination of the author in vivid detail, these poems touch on joy and loss, life’s everyday hassles, and the many faces of Mother Nature.

*****

As a girl, Kay dreamed of being swept off her feet by her one true love. At the age of 24, it finally happened…and he’s never let her forget it. A mild-mannered secretary by day and a determined word-wrangler by night, she battles the twin evils of distraction and procrastination in order to write fantastical tales of wuv…twue wuv…with a few bad haiku thrown in for good measure.

She is currently hard at work on the first book in a fantasy trilogy. Kay resides in the midst of an Iowa corn field with her devoted husband and his mighty red pen; four crazy, cute kids; and an assortment of adorably small, furry animals.

Care to save her from the chaos? You can find Kay in the all the usual places:

At her blog, where she shares random pictures and silly poems; on Facebook, where she shares things about cats and books; on Twitter, where she shares whatever pops into her head; on Pinterest, where she shares delicious recipes and images from her fantasy world; on Instagram, where she shares pictures of pretty sunsets; and on Tumblr, where she shares all of the above.

Links:

Blog: http://suddenlytheyalldied.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorkaykauffman

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/kaysiewrites

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/kaylkauffman/

Instagram: http://instagram.com/kaysiewrites

Northern Lights

By Tricia Drammeh

Kayla peered through the ice-encrusted windshield, watching the huge flakes of snow that cascaded around her snowbound car. Towering peaks of white loomed in the distance, majestic, but threatening. Drifts of snow covered the tree-lined highway, making it difficult to tell where the road ended and the forest began. It would be easy to wander off the road and become lost in the White Mountain National Forest. In fact, several people had disappeared in years past.

She wasn’t stupid enough to abandon the shelter of her car. Too bad she’d been foolish enough to set out on this journey to begin with. She’d been impetuous, but wasn’t completely unprepared. A well-packed survival kit resided in her trunk. If she had to wait out the next couple of days until the storm passed, she could do it. It would be cold and miserable, but she would survive.

A blast of frigid air whipped around her the moment she stepped out of the car. The snow was only a little more than ankle-deep, but at the rate it was falling, the deserted road would be impassible in no time. Her boots were more fashionable than functional, and she slipped and struggled as she made her way to the trunk of the car. In the unlikely event that another vehicle happened to drive by, Kayla put out a few flares. Then, emergency kit in hand, she climbed back inside the car.

She tried to make a call on her cell phone. No signal, but this wasn’t a surprise. It was almost impossible to get a signal in this remote area, but she would continue to try at regular intervals. It couldn’t hurt.

It had been three hours since her car had slid off the road. Three hours of boredom and fear. But Kayla was a survivor. Blizzards didn’t last forever, and in this remote area of New Hampshire, people were used to the snow. As soon as the weather cleared, someone would find her. Until then, she’d utilize the skills she’d learned at her father’s knee. She knew how to camp, how to hunt, how to build a fire, and how to survive.

Kayla nibbled on a protein bar and surveyed the contents of her survival kit. A flashlight with extra batteries, thermal blanket, protein bars, water, votive candles, lighter, and a few basic first-aid items. She would start the car once an hour and let it run for ten minutes. This would generate enough heat to keep her from freezing. A votive candle would provide moderate heat in the closed up car and would stave off hypothermia. Her full suitcase provided multiple changes of clothing and she could layer up. Most importantly, Kayla would remain calm and stay with her car—her only form of shelter.

As the sun slid behind the mountains, wind buffeted the car. It was pitch dark now, but she didn’t want to waste the batteries in her flashlight. Not unless she had to. Bored and fighting emerging panic, she took deep, calming breaths and focused on the positive. She had food, water, shelter, and a gun. The basics.

Kayla reclined her seat and closed her eyes, hoping to get some sleep, but her mind was too busy to settle. If only she’d stayed in Boston instead of trying to make the drive to northern New Hampshire. If only she’d called her parents before setting out instead of trying to surprise them. If only she hadn’t made such a grave error in judgment.

Her father would be so disappointed in her lack of preparedness.

***

It had been a cold, uncomfortable night of fitful, sporadic sleep. Kayla’s body was stiff. Her bladder was screaming for relief. The temperature in the car was frigid and little puffs of condensation escaped her lips each time she exhaled.

The driver’s side door was iced shut when Kayla tried to open it. She slammed her shoulder into it a couple of times before it finally budged. Huge drifts of snow prevented Kayla from opening the door all the way. She pushed and grunted until there was a gap large enough for her to squeeze through. The snow was knee-deep in spots, thigh-high in others. Kayla stared open-mouthed at the stark, white expanse of nothingness surrounding her. Gusts of wind blew icy flakes into her face as the blizzard raged.

Squatting in the snow, she gritted her teeth against the agonizing cold. Kayla had been camping numerous times. Real camping. Not at a silly, organized camping site with shelters and stocked fishing ponds and playgrounds for spoiled children. Her family camped in the middle of nowhere. They slept in tents and built fires from scratch and killed their own food. She was used to rustic conditions and no stranger to a lack of hygienic facilities, but nothing had prepared her for this type of discomfort.

Back inside the car, Kayla started the engine and blasted the heat for ten minutes to take the edge off the chill. She listened to a local radio station. Panic gripped her as she absorbed the apocalyptic weather forecast. The epic blizzard that brought a white Christmas to the region showed no signs of stopping. Roads were impassable. Flights were cancelled. Thousands of people were stranded in airports.

There was no mention of people stranded on highways. Maybe Kayla was the only one.

***

It was her second night alone in the darkness, and despite her vows to be strong and to keep her wits about her, she cried. She couldn’t help it. It was Christmas Eve and she was alone. No one was looking for her. No one knew she was missing. No one was coming to save her.

Earlier in the day, she’d comforted herself with the idea that her father didn’t know how stupid she’d been to have set out on her own in a snowstorm. Now she’d give anything to hear one of his stern, survivalist lectures. She’d give anything for the comfort of knowing that someone was looking for her, that someone knew she was lost.

Not lost. Stranded. There was a difference. Stupid people got lost. Anyone could become stranded. She’d been a victim of circumstances. Surely her father would be able to see that.

Lights flickered ahead. Headlights? She leaned forward, her forehead almost pressed against the windshield. No, not headlights. Undulating colors of red, blue, green, and purple rippled and twisted in the sky. The Northern Lights! It wasn’t unheard of for the Northern Lights to be visible in northern New Hampshire, but in the middle of a blizzard? She stared at the lights for several moments, in awe of the beauty before her.

Maybe she was lucky. If she hadn’t become stranded, she wouldn’t have seen the Northern Lights. Oh, who was she kidding? She wasn’t lucky. She would have seen the lights eventually. Alaska was on her bucket list. So was Norway. Eventually she would have had a chance to see the Aurora Borealis. Of course, if she’d done things right, she would have seen the lights as part of a tour group. She would have had a camera instead of her crappy cell phone.

She tried to take a picture with her phone, but the windshield was too fogged. The urge to get out of the car—just for a second—was overpowering, but she didn’t do it. It would be foolish to leave her shelter when it was pitch dark outside. A flashlight wouldn’t ward off wild animals. It wasn’t worth letting all that cold air into the car just to take a picture.

Fighting back a wave of self-pity, she stared at the lights until she could hardly keep her eyes open. The lights were fascinating in a way. If she stared long enough without blinking, she could almost make out patterns and pictures. Sometimes the lights seemed to be moving closer, but that was just her imagination playing tricks on her.

Her eyes flickered shut, but the Northern Lights still danced behind her eyelids. And the wind whispered in her mind, telling her it wouldn’t hurt to get out of the car. Just for a minute.

***

Day three of captivity. Despite the driving wind and snow, Kayla was determined to get out of the car and get some exercise. She prided herself on her mental fortitude, but last night had scared her. Claustrophobia had set in and she’d almost succumbed to the overwhelming temptation to exit the car. Well, it wasn’t her fault. Even a hardened soldier could fall victim to PTSD. It could happen to anyone. Kayla’s bizarre thoughts the night before weren’t a symptom of mental illness. Just a natural reaction to stress.

When she got out of the car to relieve herself, she did a few stretches. It was hard to work out in the middle of a snowdrift, but she tried. Hell, just the exertion of walking from one side of the car to the other was exhausting.

When she got back inside the car, she started the engine and listened to talk radio while she ate her protein bar. The weather forecast was bleak, but Kayla refused to give in to negativity. She forced herself to remain calm and to focus on more than her dire situation. She listened to a re-run of a syndicated political program for a few minutes. With everything that was wrong with the country, it was foolish for her to worry about a snowstorm. She should use her time alone to contemplate solutions to the world’s problems. Maybe she’d run for political office. Her father always said she’d make a better senator than half the clowns in Washington. Her father said she could do anything, but wasn’t doing nearly enough to live up to her potential. Maybe this snowstorm was a wakeup call.

She wondered what her family was doing right now. It was Christmas morning. They’d probably opened their presents. Maybe they’d tried to call her apartment and were wondering why she didn’t answer the phone. Part of her hoped they weren’t worried about her, but part of her hoped they were. Maybe they’d report her missing.

Or not. Kayla had always been fiercely independent, a trait her father valued. If they called and she didn’t answer, her father would assume she was either putting in extra time at the office, or that she was at the gym working out. No. Her folks wouldn’t worry about her just because she didn’t answer a phone call.

In an effort to chase away the boredom, she rummaged in her glove box looking for reading material. She retrieved the maintenance manual for her car and flipped through the pages. She forced herself to stop looking at the time on her cell phone. The minutes crawled by. The snow piled higher. The car interior became smaller and smaller until everything was closing in and she couldn’t breathe. She opened the door a few inches and took deep, gasping breathes of cold, crisp air. An eternity passed.

She looked at her phone again. Only ten minutes had passed since the last time she’d checked.

***

Darkness fell. The third night alone in her icy prison. She turned the key in the ignition, anticipating a blast of warm air from the heater. The welcome voice of a radio broadcaster. The cheery glow of the dashboard lights. But the car engine sputtered and died. Again and again, she tried to start the car. Screams of frustration, anger, and terror burst from her throat. Fists pounded the dashboard.

Wolves howled in the distance. Several. Many. How could they possibly be out in this blizzard? Terrified, Kayla grabbed the gun in her glove box. If those wolves came anywhere near her car, she’d shoot every single one of them. Every single one. She started to open the car door, but remembered she wasn’t supposed to leave the car for any reason. Her father had always told her not to leave the car—her only shelter—if she was stranded in a snowstorm. And her father knew everything there was to know about survival.

The urgent aching in her bladder would have to wait until morning. As a precaution, she wouldn’t drink any water until sunrise, even though her lips were chapped and her throat as dry as sandpaper. What was it her father had taught her about dehydration? She couldn’t remember.

Her gaze flitted from window to window, searching for signs of the wolves whose howls seems to be coming closer. Instead, she saw the Northern Lights again. They were so beautiful, even more beautiful than they’d been the night before. Ribbons of color melded, creating shades of indescribable hues. Through sheets of driving snow, the light seemed to be glowing brighter, coming closer, becoming more vibrant. Images formed in the lights—indistinct but somehow familiar.

Kayla tore her gaze away, blinking rapidly to clear her head. Like mirages in the desert, the lights held her captivated, tricking her into believing they were more than they were.

But, God, they were so beautiful.

She spared another glance at the lights. They were closer still. Dancing. Pulling apart. Coming together. Becoming distinct.

She squinted. Emerald and ruby orbs blinked and flickered. The colors of Christmas. She could see it now—a Christmas tree with brightly wrapped presents underneath. Family grouped around a fireplace. Trays of food lined a buffet table. Kayla could almost smell the roasted turkey, spicy pumpkin pie, the fragrant aroma of mulled wine. Her mouth watered. Lively conversation and laughter drowned out the gusts of wind. If she could open the car door, she might be able to hear it more clearly.

Kayla placed the gun back inside the glove box and pushed open the car door. She held her breath and contorted her body, barely able to squeeze through the tight opening. Whispers floated in the wind, begging, cajoling, enchanting. She stumbled toward the light and the voices that beckoned. The lights dipped down almost touching her. She reached out, but they twisted out of her grasp.

Each step was heavy, labored, but still she persevered, dragging her feet through mounds of snow. Icy hands tugged at her coat. Driving snow obscured her vision. She swiped at her frozen face with stiff hands, tried to rub her tired eyes with fingers that could hardly feel the cold anymore.

Hurry, the wind-whispers urged. Closer, Kayla. You’re almost here.

I’m coming, she cried. Her voice was carried away by a swooping gale.

Snow rose up to meet her when she stumbled, but it wasn’t as frigid as she’d expected. Its pillowy softness embraced her, inviting her to rest awhile. But the whispers urged her on. The whispers and the lights.

The snowflakes became twinkling fairy lights and the wind became music. Christmas carols. Joyful laughter. The sound of happiness.

She chased the lights through thick trees. The colorful ribbons undulated over tree limbs, leapt over fallen branches, made their own path for Kayla to follow. When hulking beasts rubbed white fur against her frozen body, she welcomed their warmth. She longed to stroke their sleek coats, but her arms were too heavy to lift.

A raspy tongue licked her face. Then another. And another. She laughed at the tickly wetness against her skin. Wolves surrounded her, welcoming her. Their exuberance knocked her to the ground and she lay in a bed of pine needles and snow.

Licks turned to nips. Nips to bites. It didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt anymore. The wind-whispers sang sweet songs of comfort. And the lights danced and danced.

***

The storm stopped. The car was found, but Kayla was not. Her father told the authorities that Kayla would not have wandered off on her own. Not without her gun. Not unless she was coerced. She’d had survival training, after all. She knew better. It just didn’t make sense.

The snow melted. Spring arrived. Then summer. When winter came again, the wolves began to hunt.

***

Kayla bolted through the forest. Snowflakes pelted her face. She stopped at the edge of the tree line, waiting for instructions from her leader. Her nose twitched at a familiar scent. She sat back on her haunches, watching.

In the distance, a hunk of