The Unknown Fear
by Stan Hampton, Sr.
Many people enjoy scary stories and movies—and no, I am
not referring to those who enjoy a jolt from reading fiction or seeing gruesome
and detailed slasher movies. Real life examples abound if someone tends toward
that. I am referring to scary stories and movies of the unknown that go bump in
the night, of the unknown that you may sense, or think you catch a glimpse of,
out of the corner of your eyes.
To set the stage, if you are taken out of your usual
environment, you examine everything around you with curious, perhaps cautious
eyes.
Imagine leaving your safe and secure apartment or home
and, oh, going camping in a rocky, forested area—the daylight fades and the
shadows lengthen. The sound of night insects is loud, somehow reassuring. The
campsite is lit by moonlight. The wind picks up and the trees rustle loudly.
One end of the tent bulges inward from the wind while the other side bulges
outward as if the tent is breathing. Perhaps you see the shadow of a tree or
brush against the tent wall because of the moonlight. The air becomes colder. An
uneasy feeling fills you as you listen to the night. Your eyes go to the sealed
opening of the bulging tent door. Maybe you think you hear something, a
stealthy movement that disturbs small rocks.
You tell yourself that it is only the wind, perhaps the
rustle of bushes.
Besides, if there is something outside of the tent, the
insects would lapse into silence, as if afraid of attracting the attention of something.
You think, “Keep making noise. Please, dear God, keep
making noise.”
Then you realize that the moon has disappeared into the
west and the windy night is even darker. You may even curse yourself for
enjoying the delicious fear of reading about or watching movies of something
unknown moving through a forest, or a desert, or a deserted street, or lurking
outside of your kitchen window. You might even swear off of such reading or
watching such stuff—scary stuff is so very different when you are alone, in the
middle of windy darkness.
You measure the hours until the night gives way to the
warmth and safety of daylight.
You curse the cot for the noise it makes when you shift
position.
Did something
outside the tent hear you?
You might start to doze off but every unfamiliar noise
awakens you. And right away you are reassured, sort of, by the insects still serenading the night.
Finally, you realize the hours have passed, the darkness
is not so absolute as before. The birds are singing to the rising sun that is
bringing warmth and safety.
You did it! You made it through the night!
Gratefully you get up from your cot and look outside at something in
the sudden silence—
___________________________
Monologue, Melange Books. Forthcoming April
2017.
NOTE:
THE FOLLOWING IS UNEDITED.
TAG
LINE: You can run, but what if you find yourself aboard a space faring Flying
Dutchman?
BLURB: Luther
Raynor is a son of one of the world’s wealthiest and politically influential
families. When the Etava Virus appeared and spread across the world, mankind’s
very survival was in question. Luther used his family’s wealth to construct a
sleeper spacecraft to take the family into space, to orbit in safety around
Jupiter for a thousand years while in suspended animation. At the last minute
he changes the plan after calculating that upon awakening, survival supplies
for one would last far longer than for two dozen or more people. He flees into
space alone except for the Mobile Artificial Intelligence Image—May,
responsible for operation of the spacecraft. But, Luther had no idea of what
awaited him out there.
EXCERPT:
The dream was always the same. He was floating alone in an unknown darkness
until a pale dot emerged in the distance. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of
burning wood and something else, something that smelled like sizzling bacon.
His hand opened, fingers spread wide toward the dot that became a blue-green
world, blanketed with dirty white clouds that sailed across a starry blackness.
Dark, smoky clouds with a flickering yellow heart trailed the world whose
colors were fading as if losing their vitality. An unfamiliar low, deep keening
sounded from an unexplored deep…
* * * *
“This is the Deep Space Sleeper Spacecraft
Hope. Can anyone hear me?” After several moments of silence he closed with the
by-now routine, “Hope out.”
In the cramped dimly lit cockpit
cabin Luther Raynor covered his mouth with a trembling hand. Beyond the
surrounding windows above the numerous instrument panels was a primordial night
deeper than that of an unlit cave.
He listened intently. Beyond the
dull hiss of circulating air he knew a stealthy creak issued from the narrow
corridor through the open hatchway behind him. The sound would have been more
at home on a haunted wooden sailing ship drifting aimlessly on a mysterious
ocean rather than in a brightly lit spacecraft of which he was the only
occupant. He was sure, after several frantic searches, that he was the only one
aboard. But still…
Luther swallowed uneasily and
ignored a faint groan. He touched the screens set in the control panel before
him to activate another sensor and visual scan.
He was lost in the depths of
unknown darkness, but knew he was a long way from Jupiter and the four moons
discovered by Galileo Galilei - Callisto, Ganymede, Europa, and Io. After a
months long journey the Hope was supposed to slide into position behind Europa,
the moon with a possible planet wide ocean beneath an icy crust, and thought to
have the best possibility for life outside of Earth. From there the gas giant,
almost 700,000 kilometers distant with its myriad of misty blue, gray, orange,
white and purple pastel bands, would fill the windows of the spacecraft. He
would have a bird’s eye view of the mysterious Giant Red Spot, the
hurricane-like storm that always was and always would be, as it grew and shrank
according to its whim.
For a thousand years the five
Galileans would circle that failed sun, after which the automatic flight
systems would activate the return sequence and with a flare of rockets the
powerful Zama Drive, descendant of the early 21st century Cannae Drive, would
fling Hope away from its companions. Because of the speed generated by the Zama
Drive, the world of his birth would soon appear in the spacecraft windows
again.
At least, that was what was supposed
to happen.
* * * *
The darkness was fading before a
kaleidoscope of spinning colors. A biting cold made moving difficult and
painful.
Luther opened his eyes and after
several moments of blinking against dim, yet painful lights, and blurriness, he
realized he was still firmly secured within the titanium alloy suspended
animation chamber.
Elation filled him—he was alive! The
emotion was replaced by confusion—where was he? But then, there was elation
again—at least he was alive.
Luther examined the inside of the
chamber with its maze of monitoring wires, electrodes, suspension fluid tubes,
chemical nutrient tubes and waste tubes—the Personal Environmental Control and
Life Support System—all connected to him through a layer of protective clothing
by implanted plugs. There was a thick glass window above his face and one to
either side of his head. Through the window all he could see was the ceiling of
the cargo bay.
Luther frowned at a dim memory of
being thrown around violently, but perhaps it was only a dream.
He
had no idea how long he lay in the chamber lit by tiny lights from small
instrument panels. When no one peeked through the chamber windows, he fumbled
with the communication switch and in a hoarse voice painfully whispered,
“Hello?”
___________________________
Author Bio
Stan Hampton, Sr. is a full-blood Choctaw of the Choctaw
Nation of Oklahoma, a divorced grandfather to 13 wonderful grandchildren, and a
published photographer and photojournalist. He retired on 1 July 2013 from the
Army National Guard with the rank of Sergeant First Class; he previously served
in the active duty Army (1974-1985), the Army Individual Ready Reserve
(1985-1995) (mobilized for the Persian Gulf War), and enlisted in the Nevada Army
National Guard in October 2004, after which he was mobilized for Federal active
duty for almost three years. Hampton is a veteran of Operations Noble Eagle
(2004-2006) and Iraqi Freedom (2006-2007) with deployment to northern Kuwait
and several convoy security missions into Iraq.
He has had two solo photographic exhibitions and curated
a third. His writings have appeared as stand-alone stories and in anthologies
from Dark Opus Press, Edge Science Fiction & Fantasy, Melange Books, Musa
Publishing, MuseItUp Publishing, Ravenous Romance, and as stand-alone stories
in Horror Bound Magazine, The Harrow, and River Walk Journal, among others.
As of April 2014, after being in a 2-year Veterans
Administration program for Homeless Veterans, Hampton is officially no longer a
homeless Iraq War veteran.
In May 2014 he graduated from the College of Southern
Nevada with an Associate of Applied Science Degree in Photography – Commercial
Photography Emphasis. A future goal is to study for a degree in archaeology—hopefully
to someday work in and photograph underwater archaeology (and also learning to
paint). He is currently studying in a double major in Art and English at the University
of Nevada-Las Vegas.
After over 14 years of brown desert in the Southwest and
overseas, he misses the Rocky Mountains, yellow aspens in the fall, running
rivers, and a warm fireplace during snowy winters.
Hampton can be found at:
__________________________
The Giveaway
The award winning question, whoever correctly answers first in the comments, for which the winner will receive a free copy of MONOLOGUE, when it is released next year by Melange Books:
"What are the five Galileans?
