Gloria Oliver Read Online Free Page A
Author: In Service Of Samurai
it under him. As he struggled not to fall over, he saw the samurai’s lacquered scabbard flash ahead of him just before it slammed into his stomach. He fell hard onto the deck.
Panic drove him to ignore the flaring pain in his leg and stomach, even as he fought to throw himself overboard. He’d reached the side of the boat when his cotton tunic was wrenched from behind and he was yanked back with it. He tried desperately to pull away, his fists flying; but a shot of unearthly cold wove down his spine, draining his resistance as fleshless fingers wrapped around the back of his neck.
He screamed.
His terror and desperation multiplied as the cold spread through him. Still screaming, he tried to pry the bony fingers from his neck, but his hands were slapped away. Soon he could no longer move. With a soundless cry of fear, he shut his eyes, not wanting to see what awaited him.
The flat-bottomed ship had come fully to the surface. Indistinct shapes moving within it silently brought out long poles with hooks and snared the small boat. As the skiff was secured to the side of the larger vessel, a number of fleshless hands reached down into it.
Toshi fought as he felt half a dozen hands attach to his body and pull him upward. The samurai’s hand left the back of his neck. In panic, he snapped his eyes open to see why the demon had deserted him. He gazed straight into the face of a grinning skull. Empty eye sockets stared into his eyes, a reddish glow flaring for a moment in their depths. He opened his mouth to scream but no sound ever reached past his lips. The fleshless face came closer. The creature’s eyes flared with bright red light. He tried to squirm away, but it was all in vain. His heart threatened to burst from horror before that fleshless grin.
An arm was thrust between them. Sudden hope flared within him even as his frightened gaze shifted to seek the samurai’s masked face. He didn’t feel the samurai’s hand as it latched onto his. His numbed body was turned around, and he glimpsed the rest of those who were on board. His mind wouldn’t count them; it didn’t want to see them. It shrieked in disbelief as he stared at the white gleaming skeletons before him.
They stood upright and wore clothes he would have seen on men on any common street. Some wore short pants and sleeveless shirts. Others only wore fudoshi —a long cloth coiled around the body that covered the genitals like a loincloth—and short vests.
Half-supporting, half-dragging him, the samurai took him toward a door set in the wall of the raised deck housing the tiller. His mind was as numbed by terror as his body was by cold; he didn’t resist as he was taken into the small hallway beyond.
Ignoring the ladder going below, the samurai pulled him forward, stopping before the second doorway on the right. Throwing the door open, the samurai thrust him inside. Unable in his paralysis to break his fall, he slammed into the glowing floor. The door was closed and bolted behind him.
The pain of the fall a very faint perception, Toshi gave in to his fear and despair. He scooted to a corner and hugged his knees to his chest, his wide eyes staring at the glow in the room that permeated everything.
Chapter 2
Toshi sat bolt upright, realizing that at some point during the night he’d fallen asleep. He glanced quickly about him, dislodging a thick blanket from his shoulders. He was on a ship—a haunted ship. A chill coursed through him as he recalled all that had gone on before.
He grabbed the fallen blanket, not sure where it had come from, and wrapped it about him. The thought repeated over and over in his mind that normal walls didn’t glow like a million fireflies. The cold air in the room made him shiver.
“Would you like some tea?”
He whipped around, entangling himself in the blanket, looking for the source of the voice. He stared in surprise at a well-dressed woman sitting at the far corner of the room, serving tea. The cut and style of
Panic drove him to ignore the flaring pain in his leg and stomach, even as he fought to throw himself overboard. He’d reached the side of the boat when his cotton tunic was wrenched from behind and he was yanked back with it. He tried desperately to pull away, his fists flying; but a shot of unearthly cold wove down his spine, draining his resistance as fleshless fingers wrapped around the back of his neck.
He screamed.
His terror and desperation multiplied as the cold spread through him. Still screaming, he tried to pry the bony fingers from his neck, but his hands were slapped away. Soon he could no longer move. With a soundless cry of fear, he shut his eyes, not wanting to see what awaited him.
The flat-bottomed ship had come fully to the surface. Indistinct shapes moving within it silently brought out long poles with hooks and snared the small boat. As the skiff was secured to the side of the larger vessel, a number of fleshless hands reached down into it.
Toshi fought as he felt half a dozen hands attach to his body and pull him upward. The samurai’s hand left the back of his neck. In panic, he snapped his eyes open to see why the demon had deserted him. He gazed straight into the face of a grinning skull. Empty eye sockets stared into his eyes, a reddish glow flaring for a moment in their depths. He opened his mouth to scream but no sound ever reached past his lips. The fleshless face came closer. The creature’s eyes flared with bright red light. He tried to squirm away, but it was all in vain. His heart threatened to burst from horror before that fleshless grin.
An arm was thrust between them. Sudden hope flared within him even as his frightened gaze shifted to seek the samurai’s masked face. He didn’t feel the samurai’s hand as it latched onto his. His numbed body was turned around, and he glimpsed the rest of those who were on board. His mind wouldn’t count them; it didn’t want to see them. It shrieked in disbelief as he stared at the white gleaming skeletons before him.
They stood upright and wore clothes he would have seen on men on any common street. Some wore short pants and sleeveless shirts. Others only wore fudoshi —a long cloth coiled around the body that covered the genitals like a loincloth—and short vests.
Half-supporting, half-dragging him, the samurai took him toward a door set in the wall of the raised deck housing the tiller. His mind was as numbed by terror as his body was by cold; he didn’t resist as he was taken into the small hallway beyond.
Ignoring the ladder going below, the samurai pulled him forward, stopping before the second doorway on the right. Throwing the door open, the samurai thrust him inside. Unable in his paralysis to break his fall, he slammed into the glowing floor. The door was closed and bolted behind him.
The pain of the fall a very faint perception, Toshi gave in to his fear and despair. He scooted to a corner and hugged his knees to his chest, his wide eyes staring at the glow in the room that permeated everything.
Chapter 2
Toshi sat bolt upright, realizing that at some point during the night he’d fallen asleep. He glanced quickly about him, dislodging a thick blanket from his shoulders. He was on a ship—a haunted ship. A chill coursed through him as he recalled all that had gone on before.
He grabbed the fallen blanket, not sure where it had come from, and wrapped it about him. The thought repeated over and over in his mind that normal walls didn’t glow like a million fireflies. The cold air in the room made him shiver.
“Would you like some tea?”
He whipped around, entangling himself in the blanket, looking for the source of the voice. He stared in surprise at a well-dressed woman sitting at the far corner of the room, serving tea. The cut and style of
Readers choose
Jacqueline Harvey
Kirsty-Anne Still
Lynn Patrick
A C Gogolski
Sergei Lukyanenko
Philippa Carr
John Pilkington