From the depths of the ocean to the furthest reaches of space, this collection of short stories will take you on a thrilling ride through a world of monsters, kaijus and cosmic beings. Brace yourself for heart-pumping action, heart-wrenching drama a...
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1.
Warren Echolls sat in his window seat, fingers tapping nervously on the armrest. Across the aisle, the other passengers in the business class module chattered politely, seemingly ordinary people caught in a pocket of luxury. He wondered if they had the same demons as him, hiding behind their practiced smiles. He wished he could be as nonchalant as they appeared to be.
A flash of lightning illuminated the cabin, its harsh light caught briefly in the window. Warren glanced through the porthole window to his left, watching the monochromatic landscape of shuddering clouds. Another flash, and this time Warren saw the creature.
It was massive, gargantuan. At first, his panic-stricken mind interpreted it as a singular colossal turbine - but no, this wasn't the work of mankind. He could barely comprehend what he was seeing; it slithered and writhed, part draconic, part gaseous; an ineffable monstrosity, birthed from the abysses between realities. The dense clouds swirled around its immense form, obscuring the truth from view.
For a moment, Warren doubted himself, doubted his sanity. Had his anxiety and depression finally won, now fracturing his dying sense of reality?
Before he could find the words to explain it, the storming chaos disappeared, and all that was left was an impenetrable blackness. God, his head was full of spiders – crawling, skittering things that were even worse than spiders. He had to close his eyes, to convince himself it wasn't real.
"Excuse me, sir, something to drink?" The flight attendant's voice cut through the resonant hum of the plane.
Warren opened his watery eyes. She was a young woman, her short-cropped blonde hair complemented by the slight smile on her lips. Despite her steady gaze, there was a tremor in her voice, a haunted hitch in her breath that begged his attention.
"Do you see it?" he whispered, daring to glance once more at the window.
"What?"
"Out there, in the storm…"
A flicker of contained terror sparked in her green eyes. Could she see it too? Or was it simply fear in reaction to his bewildered panic?
"I— No, I don't see anything," she said, her voice careful and measured.
Warren swallowed hard, willing himself to calm down. "Bourbon. Double. Neat."
"Of course, sir," the flight attendant nodded and briskly moved away.
2.
Warren took the drink, trying to quell the tremor in his hand as it brushed against the attendant's. He couldn't let go of the feeling that he wasn't alone in his terror. He couldn't let go of the feeling that they were all dancing on the edge of a razor, just waiting to fall.
"Are you alright, sir?" a concerned voice asked, snapping Warren back to his senses.
He peered at the speaker, an older gentleman sitting across the aisle. Pale skin clung to his gaunt face; shadows sank under his eyes and into the hollows of his cheeks, giving him the appearance of a drowned corpse.
