Category: short story

The Lighthouse: A Short Story by Mike Cole

He had reached this shore many times before. The waves crashed against the rocks as the façade of the lighthouse came into view. Faded were the once bright colors, the bricks long since crumbled on a shore unknown to man. He was trapped and every time he ventured, he eventually wound up back where he started. His memories were beginning to fade and his reality had become a blur. How many years had it been? Ten years? One Hundred? Time had no relevance here. He could see every reality play out, timelines that were no longer his own. When the rift had opened up, he had thought nothing of it. A glitch in the matrix, a blip in time and space. He thought he could make it back but the further he ventured, the more the route changed and the more it stayed the same; twisting and turning as if a machination of his own imagination. For every step forward, a step backwards. It was always the Damn lighthouse. A shelter in the storm and now a prison. He would always end up back here. He could be gone years, live a life and travel as far as his body would take him, but eventually, he would find himself back.

The light had not shone in years. But every so often it would begin to flicker and come whirring back to life, focusing its beam on some unseen shore in the darkness. And every time he would follow the light. Sometimes through storms, other times dead stillness. The waters were always an inky black. Heaven or Hell, he could not tell, more of an in-between if anything; purgatory, if you will. At first, reality jumping had been fun, living a different life from his own. He could see how his life would have played out, if he had only made different choices. In one he had a family, found love early on and kept it. The other he was a CEO, another a treasure hunter. Each a piece of him and each uniquely different. There was no life in this Ocean as far as he could tell, only darkness. Funny, considering the rifts he jumped through. He was getting closer to the rift and he wondered what he’d find this time around. Would spiders crawl out of it? Would he feel the splash of water? Rats? Anything was possible when traveling through the rift. He felt something brush up against the boat. A moment later, he capsized.

New Horizon: The Tower

Previous Chapters:

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Henry wandered through the forest, the leaves a gentle brown, dry and brittle to the touch. He had ditched his shoes and was now walking among the rocks of the creek. The wind began to pick up, reaching speeds of 128 kilometers per hour. The Earth had become a dangerous place.

Along the creek were remnants of what once was. Henry occasionally come across a cinderblock and rotten wood of houses that escaped the population explosions of the late 2050s. Scientists had expected the population to stabilize after hit 10 billion in 2030 but instead much of the old ways were still being practiced. Animal cloning had become a way to replace the natural and where farms should have been reduced, instead they only grew. Vertical farms were built in the late 2050s but by then it was already too late. What parts of the Amazon hadn’t been swallowed by the Ocean had turned kindling and our once breathable air became a little less breathable. 2040 saw the first carbon recapture unit and while novel at the time, it only encouraged companies to pollute more. Any benefit it might have had was lost to corporate greed.

Henry tripped. Muddy and damp, he picked himself up and looked down. He saw a large vine, no a tree trunk. Moss covered, old. Henry decided to follow. He walked a few steps, bent down and brushed the trunk off. It was black. It wasn’t a trunk, it was a wire. As it turned out, the wire led to an abandoned radio tower some ways off into the forest. Henry thought if he could climb it, he would have a chance to find his bearings. He could here the metal creak in the wind, it was a surprise the tower hadn’t toppled over by now. As he approached the tower he noticed the chipped red paint and heard a faint beeping. Why was the tower on? Wind turbines had all but been destroyed with the Mega Storms that came in the late 2060s and he could see a few busted at the base of the tower, an effort surely made to avoid the burden of high winds. The sun was beginning to set and Henry decided to climb.

At the base of the tower he found the dilapidated ladder that went straight up the some 609 meters it would take to climb. Henry reached for a rung and watched the metal splinter in his hand, the other rung held and he began to climb. Carefully and one rung at a time. The howling grew louder and the tower shook with the force. At times, it felt as though the wind was being sucked right out of him. About 500 meters up, Henry reached a point of the ladder a section had eroded and was missing. Pieces were strewn on a nearby structural beam. Henry swung with all his weight and landed with his upper torso on the beam. The ladder collapsed just as he made it across. “guess no going back now”, Henry thought.

Henry looked around and found some scaffolding. Makeshift and most likely done after shit had hit the fan. Henry went beam from beam, until finally he reached the top. The length of two football fields and he was finally at a small station at the top of the tower. In olden times, these stations would have been separate; a fire watchtower and a radio tower. As resources became scarcer and scarcer and cities larger, it made more sense to combine the two. As night fell, he saw the read blinking light and noticed the solar panels at the top of the structure. All these years and the structure held. Too dark to see, Henry made his way into the cabin and flipped on the lights. A gentle hum and then, light. Henry checked the cupboards and found some tea along with some canned food. “Coq Au Vin” or better known as cock with wine. There might have been a time when people cooked this dish, but in the convenience brought by mass production and globalization why bother? Henry always liked to cook but it was never considered a necessity. He turned on the stove boiled some water and made himself a cup of tea. “Winter’s Nap”, how delicious. He fried the canned chicken and ate a meal, a nice chance to catch his breath before he looked for the main debris field of the New Horizon.

He started a fire in the hearth, and settled into the bed. The sheets, still soft, reminded him of simpler times. Life was never really all that simple when he was born, but he always loved the process of settling down after a long day and feeling safe in his bed. As Henry looked up, he noticed the four skylight panels. These could be tinted off and on but Henry decided to leave them as they were as the fire crackled in the background. The sky was a gentle blue, speckled by red fireballs as the New Horizon continued to rain down upon the land. Henry gently closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Another Chapter written! I’m having a blast writing this series! It’s great to finally be on schedule with my blog and producing content on a semi regular basis. How far I’ll go, I don’t know, but the story arch is starting to develop and I just hope I can stick the landing for my first go around. So stay tuned and get ready for chapter five as I begin to draft out the concepts for what’ll happen next! As always, thanks for reading!

The Mirror: A short Story by Mike Cole

She looked in the mirror every morning. She would wake, she would go to work, and she would sleep. In the morning she would simply stare. A minute, half an hour, time seemed to have no relevance. Her dreams were shattered and her life was nowhere near where she thought it would be. Now in her mid thirties, going on thirty-six, she was alone. A small apartment, where her diploma hung, unused. She had worked retail since graduation and she no longer had the energy to try to make use of her degree. She would greet the customer, come home, and sleep.

The mirror was old. It was what she had left of her parents and the mirror had been passed down in her Mother’s family for a few generations now. The mirror had a small crack, distorting her reflection just over her right eye. It gave the impression of disfigurement when in reality she was quite beautiful. Long, flowing blonde hair, hazel eyes borderline green, and a long face that had a hint of melancholy to it. If she was sad, it hardly showed.

But she was indeed sad and as she lay in bed, she decided she could not sleep and instead looked into the mirror. Instead of disfigurement she saw herself as a child. She was painting and she was smiling. As a child, she loved art. Drawing, painting, and sculpting, she had done it all. As she grew older, she focused on the practical and lost that creative spark; she had not thought about this in years and wondered what had happened to her.

Beth jolted awake from her sleep. It was 3am. Had it only been a dream? The rain pattered the window and the sound of thunder could be heard in the distance. The rain grew louder, the thunder grew closer. Lightning flashed and hit the mirror. Beth gasped as she did not see a child but a decaying corpse. Tufts of hair had already begun falling out and the strands remaining where blonde. The air in the bedroom began to smell of dirt and some other, strange odor. Spoiled milk? No, that couldn’t be it. Rotten meat? Close, but not quite. She went over to the mirror to get a closer look. The image did not fade. The jaw was disconnected and the flesh had begun rotting away. Beth was frozen. Surely this was a dream. The left eye was faded and all but gone grey. Beth slowly moved her head and examine where the right eye should have been. Instead, a worm began to crawl out of an empty socket. She looked closer and noticed it was crawling through the tiny crack in the mirror. She ran and flipped on the light. Whoever was in the mirror was gone, along with the worm. She felt a faint breeze from behind, a flash of lightning, and the power went out; she was in total darkness.

And thus concludes my October series. A month of short stories and hopefully a couple scares as I experiment with horror. I had a blast writing the short stories and while it was not my typical genre, it was great practice. Next year will hopefully be a little more involved as I work on marketing my content and making it available to more individuals. I’m excited for Halloween and have been ramping up my horror intake all month for the Thirty-First. If you enjoyed this post, consider leaving a like, following if you’re new to the blog, and sharing among your friends. It’s been a great year for the blog and your support makes a huge difference. If you want to support me as a creator, I also have a Patreon and Ko-Fi page:

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Thanks for reading and have a spooky rest of your October!

The Manor: A short Story by Mike Cole

The manor was old, long since abandoned by the family that had once called it their home. Generations it had stood, and in a couple it was all but forgotten.

He held the Will in his hands, surprised by what his father had left him. A manor tucked away on the Irish countryside, along the Irish coast. It was a quaint little place, with 20 rooms in total. Coming from America, Ireland was new. He had been looking for a change for a while now and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. Some time alone to collect himself and start over, fresh. The manor had a groundskeeper that typically visited a couple times a year to maintain the premise. Other than that, no one had set foot on the property in over a century.

His plane landed in Dublin, from there he would travel North some while and then continue East until he reached his final destination. When he finally arrived, he felt the gentle Ocean breeze greet him as he pulled up the drive. The manor was more beautiful than he could have possibly imagined, being built in the late 1800’s by a wealthy Irishman and his wife; his great-great-great grandfather. Shortly afterwards, his great-great-great grandfather fell ill and the house was passed down to his son. And then his son and so forth. Now here he stood, at the large oak doors with the key in hand. He turned the lock and the doors opened.

Inside, the foyer was massive with two grand staircases leading to the upper level. Between the two staircases stood a massive door and to the left the hall that led to the kitchen. Henry found the fridge, stocked with fresh meat and beer in anticipation for his arrival. The groundskeeper was not there when he arrived but said he would stop by later in the week to check in on him. He checked the pantry, stocked with fresh bread and sugars to the hearts delight. In front of the pantry stood the door to the basement. He opened it and peered down the stairs. Dark. Not a window in sight save for a tiny window in the rightmost corner. The circuit breaker was located in the basement but not much else of interest. He took one step as the stair creaked and decided there was no need to go down just yet. He turned around and headed down the hall, walking past the foyer and into the nursery. Here, there was much work needed. Plants were overgrown and vines crept about, touching the glass of their encasement. He thought this odd as the manor had a groundskeeper but perhaps their work pertained to the garden outback and general upkeep of the structure, not the small, long forgotten nursery.

As he wandered upstairs, he heard a thump that sounded like it had come from the kitchen. He hurried back down and into the kitchen. He checked the table, counter and the surrounding area; all seemed to be in order. When he checked the pantry, he noticed a cookie jar on the ground. This must have been what had fallen. He set the jar back up on the shelf and swept the crumbs off the pantry floor. He felt a breeze and noticed the basement door slightly ajar. “huh, must be a loose lock”, he thought, as he gently closed the door until he heard it click.

As he climbed the stairs and made it to the second floor, he admired the long halls each with their many rooms should company ever find its way to the manor. The Master bed was down the East corridor and located on its own separate wing, facing South towards the drive. The Western corridor housed the staircase to the attic. As he entered the Master bed, he noticed the balcony and stepped outside for a quick smoke. If he looked East, he could see the Ocean and in front of him stood the forest that greeted all travelers on there way up the drive. The wind blew slightly, and to him, it sounded like a gentle hum. He looked out towards the drive. The forest was dense and hard to see from this distance. The leaves rustled and formed the vague outline of a figure. He blinked and noticed it was only the sturdy trunk of a large oak. He headed back inside as the light began to fade.

He had arrived at four and it had taken him three hours to drive to the manor from Dublin. He decided to have a quick dinner before bed and promptly headed towards the kitchen. He found pasta noodles in the pantry and picked some tomatoes from the garden with the last of the light. By the time he reentered the house, it was already dark. He started boiling water on the stovetop and sliced tomatoes on the cutting board while the onions and carrots sautéed in the pan. He ate, found the washroom at the top of the stairs, and then proceeded down the hall to his bed. It was ten and it had been a long day.

He awoke at three to the sound of thumping. He went to turn on the light and heard a click. The power was out. The wind howled outside and the rain poured heavily. The balcony door was ajar and he promptly closed it as flashes of lightning blanketed the sky. He drifted off to sleep and woke at three thirty three to more thumping. He checked the balcony door, “locked tight.” He heard the thumping again, this time louder. It sounded as though it was coming from downstairs. He lit a candle and ventured out of his room. With each step he took, the floor creaked, as if moaning from the many years of quiet slumber now being awoken. The candle flickered as he walked down the long hall, with flashes of lightning followed by distant thunder breaking the silence. The rain pattered and he felt a drop of water. Then another, and then another. He heard creaking from downstairs and when he reached the foyer, he noticed the heavy oak doors wide open, mud everywhere. And that’s when he saw her. A woman standing in the doorway, dripping from the rain.

Thanks for reading and I hope you all are enjoying my Spooktacular October! If you enjoyed this short story, please consider following the blog and sharing among your friends as well as leaving a like! If you want to support me as a creator, below is a link to my Patreon and Ko-Fi as well as simply donating directly through Paypal.

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