BEST SHORT STORIES OF 2013
Edited by Justin Blaney
Title: Best Short Stories 2013
Editor: Justin Blaney
Copyright: January 2014 Justin Blaney, All rights reserved.
Cover by: Justin Blaney
ISBN: 9781310439667
Individual story copyrights:
Dreamer by Janae Schiele Copyright © 2014
Bliss by Vanessa Rasanen Copyright © 2014
Out of the Shadows by Katrina Umland Copyright © 2014
Facing Memories by Deanna Wiseburn Copyright © 2014
Cinderella Goes to the Potty by Justin Blaney Copyright © 2014
All rights reserved.
https://justinblaney.com
Introduction
The four short stories included in this book were selected as finalists for the Best Short Story Award of 2013 on justinblaney.com. Fans, well-wishers, and reading enthusiasts selected this year's top short story from among these distinguished finalists. Here are the results:
1. Dreamer by Janae Schiele
2. Bliss by Vanessa Rasanen
3. Out of the Shadows by Katrina Umland
4. Facing Memories by Deanna Wiseburn
I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I, our judges, and all the wonderful readers at justinblaney.com did.
Your friend,
Justin Blaney
PS, I included one of my own short stories as a bonus fifth story at the conclusion of this volume. This story is the first in a series called Isfits, which you can discover more about at isfits.com
Dreamer by J.M. Schiele
Having only a short time to find the bomber threatening New York City, I started the day at my dream job early. I arrived at my desk and looked over a message planted by the bomber.
At each crime scene, a picture of a fashion model was found. This picture was of a young woman wearing a long red dress, her hair pulled into a half updo.
I felt the message somehow showed where the next location would be. Hours passed since I had first begun, but I wasn't going to give up. I looked at the dress again–long, red, high-waisted.
"High-waisted," I thought aloud. "What is the name for that...empire waist?"
"What did you say Daphne?" Carl, an agent on my force, asked.
"Empire waist. You don't think..."
"No, that would be too easy. Right?"
I looked at the picture again. "It's a long shot."
"What is?" Roger, our team leader, came into the room.
"Daphne may have found a clue in the picture," Carl said.
Roger cocked his head. "Go on."
"I think our bomber's next target is the Empire State Building," I said.
"You got that from a dress?"
Carl showed it to him. "Daphne says that's an empire waist."
"Interesting. So when do you think the bomber will strike?" Roger said.
"Bear with me on this one." I took the picture from Carl. "But, I think this afternoon."
Carl raised his eyebrows. "Expand."
"Look at her hair; that's a half updo. If we think this is predicting the bomber's next target, her hair could signify half of the day."
Roger shook his head. "That's not only insane, but brilliant! What does this say about our bomber? Female? Fashion designer?"
"Could be anything." Carl looked at his watch. "It's 11:00 a.m. We need to clear the Empire State Building and the surrounding areas."
"We can't just clear the Empire State Building," Roger said. "That would cause a panic. We need to search the building, discreetly, and make sure we're correct on this assumption before we take action."
I looked at my team. "And if we are correct?"
"Then we move as fast as possible. What about detonation time? Noon?"
"I would say so," Carl said.
"Let's do this." I grabbed my gear.
"I'll gather the rest of the force. Carl you alert the bomb squads, make sure they're ready. We leave in five minutes."
...
My pulse quickened as I searched the building. I finished the 99th floor and looked at my watch: 11:40. It was taking twenty minutes per floor. I sprinted up the stairs. Oh God help us.
Half way through my search of floor 100 I saw something so subtle, I almost missed it in my rush. A blinking red light. My heart sank.
A voice chirped over my radio. "I've got eyes on the bomb! Call the squad! Get everyone out of here now! Third floor!"
I had never been more terrified in my entire life. Two bombs.
Then another voice. "This is bad! I've got a bomb too. Floor 30! Clear this building now!"
I spoke into the radio. "Floor 100! Bomb on floor 100!"
I looked at the bomb--no timer--then at my watch, 11:53. An alarm shot through the building alerting everyone to evacuate. I knelt by the bomb and examined it. A yellow, red, and white wire stuck out.
"Bomb one neutralized!" Rogers's voice came over the radio.
"Tell me how to defuse it," I responded. "What wire do I cut?"
"Daphne, let the bomb squad get this one!"
"There isn't time. It took them three minutes to defuse the first one!"
"I'll talk to the squad's chief, but don't touch anything."
I checked my watch, 11:57.
"Daphne, this is Roger again. The chief said if the bombs detonate at noon, you're right. There isn't time. Just get out of there!"
"What. Wire. Do. I. Cut?"
He paused. "Red, then yellow. Don't touch the white. But Daphne, you don't have to do this! The bombs may not be the same."
"I have to do this, sir." I clicked off my radio.
I looked at my watch one more time, 11:59. I placed my wire cutters around the red wire. Snip. Then yellow. Snip. The red light stopped blinking. I sighed and turned my radio back on.
"Daphne! Daphne!" Roger screamed into the radio. "Answer me!"
"Sir?"
"Don't touch the wires, the second bomb was different!"
I stopped breathing as the red light flicked back on, and the bomb starting beeping. I, the fearless, the fighter for justice, felt a tear run down my cheek, it was all over. I messed up.
"Daphne, wake up." A voice said. "You've overslept."
"Huh?" I opened my eyes. I was in a hospital. "I made it? The bomb didn't kill me?"
A plump nurse looked sympathetically at me. "Probably another bad dream, Daphne. Here's your medication. Now if you would just take it, you wouldn't have those anymore." The nurse walked to another patient.
Reality set in as I sat up.
Carl scooted his chair over to my bed. "What adventure did you go on this time?"
"I was on the case of the New York City bomber!"
Carl's eyes widened. "You catch him?"
"I don't know."
"What was he blowing up?"
"The Empire State Building."
Another patient in the ward wheeled himself over to us. "Must be a lunatic!"
Carl chuckled. "Roger, we're all lunatics! Mentally insane, aren't we Daphne?"
"That's what they tell us."
I stood and peered out the barred windows. The New York City skyscrapers stood miles away and I could just barely see the tip of the Empire State Building. Dreams were my only freedom.
I tossed my pills down an air vent. I had to dream. A police siren sounded. I closed my eyes, saw myself solving mysteries, and bringing justice to my city. One dream at a time.
To Be Continued...
...
Discover more great stories from J.M. Schiele at https://jmschiele.jimdo.com