Vanitas

S Dorr James

Description

When he arrived at the New England town of Vanitas, all that Caleb Rushton wanted was an escape from the life of a seaman. What he found there included murder, a ghost-like apparition, a multi-layered trail of deception, and a need for his carpentry skills to help in the building of a gigantic church organ powered by steam.A great blend of steampunk and horror from our Orbits sci-fi/fantasy short story line.

Sujets

• Short story
• Science fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Untreed Reads
• Date de parution: 31 juillet 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781611871388
• Langue: English

Extrait

Vanitas
By James S. Dorr

Copyright 2011 by James S. Dorr
Cover Copyright 2011 by Dara England and Untreed Reads Publishing
The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.


First published in ALFRED HTCHCOCK’S MYSTERY MAGAZINE, January 1996, and has been reprinted in the author’s collection STRANGE MISTRESSES: TALES OF WONDER AND ROMANCE (Dark Regions, 2001).


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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.


Other Titles in the Orbits Short Story Line
Creative Accountancy for Beginners by Anne Brooke
Flying Solo by Wade J. McMahan
Keep Your Friends Close by K.G. McAbee
New Normal by Jeffrey Ricker
The Girl in the Painting by Anne Brooke


http://www.untreedreads.com
Vanitas
By James S. Dorr
Vanitas vanitatum, et omnia vanitas.
(Ecclesiastes I:2)

Caleb Rushton came from the sea, from a world where sail—and the seamen needed to mount ships’ rigging—was fast giving way to the devils of soot and steam. He traveled west from his home port of Boston through Worcester and Springfield, until he came to the town of Vanitas on the east edge of the Berkshire Mountains. He liked the way the air smelled there, the way the hollyhocks bloomed in the spring, and, though he had long since lost faith in religion, he used his shipborn carpentry skills to gain a position as church sexton.
Then, early that autumn, a traveling circus came into the mountains, north to their valley. It gave one performance, one which he did not see.
The following morning the church choirmaster, Petro Mezzoni, a dark-haired, normally brooding man who Rushton had been told had come to Vanitas from the New Haven Conservatory just two years before, approached him as he began his duties. “Did you watch the circus parade?” Mezzoni asked.
“A little of it,” Rushton replied. “We all watched at least some of the parade as it came through town, though I missed the show afterward.”
“What did you think of the bareback rider? You know the Church Elders did not approve.”
“I caught a glimpse,” Rushton said. “Only that, though. I had to return here—the roof needs rebuilding before the fall rains come.”
The choirmaster nodded slowly. “Did you hear the music?”
“A bit, yes,” Rushton said. “It was loud and full of whistles. Too loud for my taste. That was one reason I went back inside.”
“Ah yes, loud indeed,” the choirmaster said. “Played properly, though, you might like it better.” He gave a knowing smile—Rushton understood the choirmaster had performed as well as taught music in Connecticut and was considered, at least by himself, an expert in the classical era. He did not know, though, why the choirmaster had left his post there.
The choirmaster went on. “There’s been a fire. The tent the circus people were in burned down late last night, while most of us here in town were sleeping. Reverend Hawkings is out there right now, but I’ve already been there so I can tell you you’ll have a full day’s work in the graveyard.