Celestial Inventories (36 page)

Counting such touches was purely theoretical, of course. He finally determined a figure for the probable number of touches per square inch of surface, then assigned a multiplier figure for each surface based on his estimate of how many layers of touches had adhered to that particular place.

Some touches were more surreptitious, stealing through the air and kissing his belongings absentmindedly and leaving no mark to indicate that they’d been there. But he did not think he would have wanted to count such special, ephemeral events, even if an estimation had been possible.

Sometimes the shape of these prints, or the amount of oil they contained, seemed far removed from anything his fingers might have produced.

Sometimes he found prints on surfaces he could not possibly have touched, such as the bottoms of lamps.

Such anomalies disturbed him, and he might even spend a few nights awake attempting to catch in the act the source of these alien touches. A long time ago he’d decided he needed to know everything about his environment.

He liked to imagine sometimes that the objects were altered by his touches, at least in the most minute, chemical way.

He liked to think that, whatever happened to him, at least this much might remain: the ghosts of his fingertips searching, finding, soothing, departing, driven by his very human need to touch everything he saw, and thereby make it his own.

Old and yellow, the four candles had come to resemble his skin. He couldn’t quite remember who had given them to him—although he should have, having received only a few presents in his lifetime—but he knew the giver could not have been a friend. The candles reminded him of the weaknesses of his own flesh, how the more he lived, the sooner his death might come.

And yet there were still events which inspired him to light the candles: the birth of a child to a friend or relative, the death of an acquaintance, some national or international event which he considered to have enormous impact upon a great number of people.

As life went on, the candles burned; they melted down to nothing.

Eventually he discovered, however, that many people weren’t like candles at all. They were lumps of grey clay or they were splintered pieces of stone. They would not melt, whatever the heat or fuel applied.

His skin might be yellow, but at least during the night his head burned bright, so brightly his pillow had grown brittle as ash.

Melting was something you naturally did every day, if you were doing anything more than sleepwalking with your time. Age melted the youth from your face. Feelings melted, as well, and ideas. If you generated feelings and ideas of enough strength, you always left a residue behind on those you came into contact with.

At this point in his life he was mostly brittle, blackened wick that sparked and sputtered but gave no steady flame. His skinny hands had an antique waxy sheen.

But at night, on the edge of sleep, the room still danced with molten light.

So finally it all came down to this: an old man on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling. He could not move his head, could not turn to see his things scattered across the rug. But all his things did not matter anyway. His inventory at last complete, all that was important now was the ceiling.

Even in the dark the ceiling was soft and luminous, all one thing, all one ceiling. In fact it looked as if the walls were capped by the sky itself, a dim milk sky going on forever.

The old man chose one area of ceiling for study, then another, and another. There it was—it was all the same thing, the same patch of world, and yet it was everything.

At last all the clocks chimed, the fasteners fastened, hair and teeth returned to their heads, and ashes built back into flesh. The old man found a proper pair of shoes and chose some well-fitting gloves. He stood on his bed and raised his gloved hands to the ceiling, where they searched slowly for the edges of an opening.

At last finding the door in his ceiling, the old man opened it and pulled himself up and out of his apartment. He closed the door firmly behind him. He stood up in the darkness and waited for the lights to come on, for someone to arrive and guide him. Waiting there he began counting all the things left in his head: the one hundred twelve things he might have done with his child, the fourteen secrets he’d never told his mother, the twenty-two good wishes he reserved for perfect strangers.

Steve Rasnic Tem was born in Lee County, Virginia in the heart of Appalachia. He currently lives in Centennial, Colorado with his wife, the writer Melanie Tem. His novels include
Excavation
,
The Book of Days
, the recent
Deadfall Hote
l and, co-written with wife Melanie Tem,
Daughters
and
The Man On the Ceiling
. He is the author of over 350 published short stories, and is a past winner of the Bram Stoker, International Horror Guild, British Fantasy, and World Fantasy Awards. He was also a finalist for the Philip K. Dick, Shirley Jackson, and Theodore Sturgeon awards. His other story collections include
City Fishing
,
The Far Side of the Lake
,
In Concert
(collaborations with Melanie Tem),
Ugly Behavior
, and
Onion Songs
.

You may visit the Tem home on the web at
www.m-s-tem.com
.

“The World Recalled” originally published as a chapbook by Wormhole Books, 2004

“The Disease Artist” originally appeared in
Dark Arts
, John Pelan editor, IHG nominee, 2006

“Halloween Street” originally appeared in
F&SF
, nominated for IHG and the Bram Stoker (reprinted
Year’s Best Fantasy & Horror
and
Best New Horror
), 1999

“When We Moved On” originally appeared in
Clockwork Phoenix 2
, Mike Allen editor, 2009

“The Woodcarver’s Son” originally appeared in
Offworld
, Winter 1993

“Invisible” originally appeared in
Sci Fiction
, IHG and Bram Stoker nominee (reprinted
Best Fantasy of the Year
, Rich Horton) 2005

“Head Explosions” originally appeared in
Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens
#5, 2007

“Chain Reaction” originally appeared in
Black Static
#19, 2010

“The Secret Flesh” originally appeared in Pulphouse: The Hardback Magazine Issue 11, Kristine Kathryn Rusch editor, 1991/a>

“Origami Bird” originally published as an Independence Day greeting card by Wormhole Books, 2002

“In These Final Days of Sales” originally appeared as a chapbook from Wormhole Books, winner of the Bram Stoker Award (reprinted
Year’s Best Fantasy & Horror
), 2001

“Little Poucet” originally appeared in
Snow White, Blood Red
, Ellen Datlow & Terri Windling editors, 1993

“The Bereavement Photographer” originally appeared in
13 Horrors
, Brian A. Hopkins editor, IHG nominee, 2003

“Firestorm” originally appeared in
Perpetual Light
, Alan Ryan editor, World Fantasy Award nominee, 1982

“The Mouse’s Bedtime Story” originally appeared in
Bedtime Stories to Darken Your Dreams
, Bruce Holland Rogers editor, 1999

“Last Dragon” originally appeared in
Amazing Stories
, Sept. 1987

“The Monster in the Field” is original to this volume

“The High Chair” originally appeared in
Flytrap
#6, 2006

“Dinosaur” originally appeared in
Asimov’s
, May 1987

“Giant Killers” originally appeared in
The Pedestal Magazine
(online), issue #61

“The Company You Keep” originally appeared in
Outsiders
, Nancy Holder & Nancy Kilpatrick editors, 2005

“Celestial Inventory” originally appeared as a chapbook from Chris Drumm Books, 1991

Anything is possible: people breed dogs with humans to create a servant class; beneath one great city lies another city, running it surreptitiously; an employee finds that her hair has been stolen by someone intent on getting her job; strange fish fall from trees and birds talk too much; a boy tries to figure out what he can get when the Rapture leaves good stuff behind. Everything is familiar; everything is different. Behind it all, is there some strange kind of design or merely just the chance to adapt? In Karen Heuler’s stories, characters cope with the strange without thinking it’s strange, sometimes invested in what’s going on, sometimes trapped by it, but always finding their own way in.

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978-1-927469-34-7

A hostile stranger is hunting Dr. Show’s ramshackle travelling circus across 1960s America. His target: the ringmaster himself. The troupe’s unravelling hopes fall on their latest and most promising recruit, Webern Bell, a sixteen-year-old hunchbacked midget devoted obsessively to perfecting the surreal clown performances that come to him in his dreams. But as they travel through a landscape of abandoned amusement parks and rural ghost towns, Webern’s bizarre past starts to pursue him, as well.

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978-1-927469-37-8

Only men are allowed into the wells of vision. But Cara’s mother defies this edict and is killed, but not before returning with a vision of terrible and wonderful things that are to come . . . and all because of five-year-old Cara. Years later, evil destroys the rest of Cara’s family. In a rage, Cara uses magic to transform herself into a male warrior. But she finds that to defeat her enemies, she must break the cycle of violence, not continue it. As Cara’s mother’s vision of destiny is fulfilled, the wonderful follows the terrible, and a quest for revenge becomes a quest for eternal life.

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978-1-927469-40-8

In a PERFECT world where everyone DESTROYS everything and eats HUMAN FLESH, one ZOMBIE has had enough: BUCK BURGER. When he rebels at the natural DISORDER, his marriage starts DETERIORATING and a doctor prescribes him an ANTI-DEPRESSANT. Buck meets a beautiful GREEN-HAIRED pharmacist fairy named FAIRY_26 and quickly becomes a pawn in a COLD WAR between zombies and SUPERNATURAL CREATURES. Does sixteen-year-old SPIRITUAL LEADER and pirate GUY BOY MAN make an appearance? Of course! Are there MIND-CONTROLLING ALBINOS? Obviously! Is there hot ZOMBIE-ON-FAIRY action? Maybe! WHY AREN’T YOU READING THIS YET?

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978-1-771481-42-7

For thousands of years, Cross has wandered the earth, a mortal soul trapped in the undying body left behind by Christ. But now he must play the part of reluctant hero, as an angel comes to him for help finding the Mona Lisa—the real Mona Lisa that inspired the painting. Cross’s quest takes him into a secret world within our own, populated by characters just as strange and wondrous as he is. He’s haunted by memories of Penelope, the only woman he truly loved, and he wants to avenge her death at the hands of his ancient enemy, Judas. The angel promises to deliver Judas to Cross, but nothing is ever what it seems, and when a group of renegade angels looking for a new holy war show up, things truly go to hell.

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978-1-771481-46-5

When Ann LeSage was a little girl, she had an invisible friend—a poltergeist, that spoke to her with flying knives and howling winds. She called it the Insect. And with a little professional help, she contained it. But the nightmare never truly ended. As Ann grew from girl into young woman, the Insect grew with her, becoming a thing of murder. Now, as she embarks on a new life married to successful young lawyer Michael Voors, Ann believes that she finally has the Insect under control. But there are others vying to take that control away from her. They may not know exactly what they’re dealing with, but they know they want it. They are the ’Geisters. And in pursuing their own perverse dream, they risk spawning the most terrible nightmare of all.

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978-1-771481-44-1

A yearly anthology from ChiZine Publications, gathering the best Canadian fiction and poetry in the speculative genres (SF, fantasy, horror, magic realism) published in the previous year. Imaginarium 2012 (edited by Sandra Kasturi and Halli Villegas, with a provocative introduction by Steven Erikson) was nominated for a Prix Aurora Award.

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978-1-771481-50-2

Martin is going to Bible Camp for the summer. He’s going to learn archery and swimming, and he’s going to make new friends. He’s pretty excited, but that’s probably because nobody told him that this is a horror novel.

AVAILABLE JULY 2O13

978-1-771481-48-9