The Last Voyage

February 15, 2018

Fernando Sacchetto Mystery, Sci-Fi, Short Stories , , , , , 2 Comments

Mr. Khoury awoke to the sound of his phone alarm at six A.M. sharp, as he had done for near on forty years. After tapping his phone’s screen to check the time (which was always the same, but he checked it every day anyways), he proceeded to the same lonely routine he’d been following for a few years, since his dear Rachel passed away. A yawn, a stretch, an eye rub, a belly scratch, and then on to the early-morning meds, faithfully on his right-hand nightstand, along with a small bottle of water. As he sat up and slapped the light switch… the lights failed to turn on.

“Huh?” he muttered, still groggy, and patted the wall where the switch was supposed to be. Not only it wasn’t there, but the wallpaper felt entirely unfamiliar, and it was also at that point that he noticed the strange headboard behind him.

“Where am I?” The morning light softly filtered by the curtains (wait… wasn’t it winter?, he thought) showed an environment that was at once foreign and entirely familiar from his past days as a sales representative. A hotel room, he realized. Where am I again? I don’t remember this trip. More

STOCK MARKET

November 30, 2011

Fernando Sacchetto Mystery, Sci-Fi, Short Stories , , , , Leave a comment

(Note: This is a story written under the Machine of Death premise – a collection of stories written by several authors that somehow involve the existence of a machine that predicts how (but not necessarily when) its user will die. This story, STOCK MARKET, was submitted for the second Machine of Death volume, but didn’t make it into the final cut, so I’m making it available to the public here. If you’re interested in this story or its premise, please visit the Machine of Death website for more information and FREE access to the first collection of short stories, an audiobook podcast, and other cool related resources.)

STOCK MARKET

by Fernando H. F. Sacchetto – July 1st, 2011

 

“Chambers and Compton, come in here for a moment.”

It was always a bad sign when Foster called us into his office like that. He was a rather to-the-point kind of guy, who usually preferred to walk up to your desk and lay it on you right away. When the talk was inside his office, either he was going to chew you out, or the case was particularly sensitive – which I always figured was the worse of the two. This time, it was the latter.

“What did we do this time?” Compton asked, only half joking.

“It’s not what you did, it’s what you’re gonna do, which is make pretty damn sure you know where you’re stepping with this one.” There was a fat case folder on his desk, which he turned our way. “Just in from the Department of the Treasury. The name’s W&M, for Worthington & Masters. Business consulting, financial market analysis, insurance, I don’t know what the hell else. Business never really been my thing. Problem is, they and their clients have been doing some really dodgy trading on the stock market, mostly by knowing stuff before anyone else had a right to. You know, buying just before the big merger that drives the stocks up, selling when the bad news hasn’t gotten out to the public yet, and so on. They’re calling it insider trading, of course. Have a look for yourselves.”

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The Man from Nantucket

August 7, 2011

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The Man from Nantucket

by Fernando H. F. Sacchetto – sep. 2008

There are those days when you’re so pissed off – not for any particular reason, that’s hardly necessary, just pissed off – that you don’t have any business getting out of bed. You know the deal – you look like you’re always chewing down a sour lemon laced with glass, you don’t speak as much as snarl, everything you hear is an insult, everyone and everything – even your damn toaster – seems out to get you, and even cashing in a lotto jackpot feels like torture. That was one of those days – not for me, but for God, from the look of the shitty weather. Wind, rain, the sort that annoys you rather than get you wet, sky of a color that said “piss off”, the works.

A guy – who was probably wiser than all those theology doctors and priests – once said that the difference between the angry, vengeful, smite-happy God of the Old Testament and His more chilled-out, understanding, “just love thy neighbor, okay” self in the New Testament was that He got laid in the meantime. Well, it was one of those days when it sounded like He could use another round. Not me, though – rare as it may be these days, my mood couldn’t be further from the weather’s. And yes, a girl had something to do with it. But don’t they always?

This may sound awfully cliché – probably because it is obvious, in this sort of situation – but Corinne was the sweetest thing ever. I couldn’t help seeing her everywhere I looked. Yes, there was some sex involved, of course. Call me a pig, but it’s simply the truth – nothing makes a man care more about a girl than when she makes him come, and hard. And Corinne was kind enough to give me that opportunity, at a time when I sorely needed that release. But I’m getting ahead of myself – let me start over, from the beginning.

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