Scorpio: The Zodiac Series, #11

THE ZODIAC SERIES

The Zodiac Series is a collection of twelve speculative fiction anthologies, each focusing on one of the Zodiac signs. The anthologies feature short stories and poems inspired by each sign, and retellings of the various myths behind those signs.

Capricorn  Aquarius  Pisces

Aries  Taurus  Gemini

Cancer  Leo  Virgo

Libra  Scorpio  Sagittarius

The Zodiac Series has been produced by Aussie Speculative Fiction, and each anthology contains a diverse selection of tales by talented writers from Australia and New Zealand.

First published by Deadset Press in 2021.

© Deadset Press 2021

All rights reserved.

Cover design Copyright © Austin P. Sheehan.

Edited by Austin P. Sheehan, Neen Cohen and

Alannah K. Pearson.

Foreword by Sasha Hanton.

I am Scorpio

Zoey Xolton

I am the Scorpion and my constellation is Scorpio.

My tarot card is Death; I am an insightful soul and loyal companion.

At my best I am brave, resourceful and passionate.

At my worst I am secretive, distrustful and jealous.

Fluid and balanced, like my element: Water, mine is a Fixed sign.

I appreciate truth, facts, deep friendship and grand ideas.

However, I dislike lies, passive individuals and ignorance.

I am ruled by Pluto, and am guardian to the second day of the week.

My colours are scarlet and black.

About the Author:

Zoey Xolton is an Australian Speculative Fiction writer, primarily of Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, and Horror. Her works have appeared in over one-hundred themed anthologies, with more due for publication!

She has recently celebrated the release of her debut short story collection Darkly Ever After. You can find further details regarding her many publications on her website: www.zoeyxolton.com!

Foreword

Sasha Hanton

EIGHTH SIGN OF THE zodiac, Scorpio represents the fixed water sign. Known for being one of the fiercest signs, Scorpio natives are ruled over by the dwarf planet Pluto. 

The constellation of Scorpio has one primary myth that has a vast number of variations. As with all constellations of the zodiac, Scorpio has a Greek myth relating to its origin. Each telling of Scorpio’s rise to the stars revolves around another constellation, Orion the hunter—the constellation which Scorpio is said to chase across the night sky. The story always involves a giant scorpion pursuing Orion, though depending on the retelling, the god or goddess that sends the giant scorpion after Orion, the reason for Orion’s punishment, and the way in which Orion dies changes.

In one variation, Orion brags about being the best hunter there is and how he will kill every animal (which is a common theme in several versions) and when his boast reaches the Goddess of the Earth, Gaia, she is understandably upset. Gaia then creates the giant scorpion and sends him to kill Orion. When the giant scorpion succeeds, as a reward for saving all animal life, Gaia makes him into a constellation. Orion is then placed into the sky as a constellation by either Zeus or Artemis. 

Another common retelling of the myth involves the Goddess Artemis. It is suggested that Artemis was enamoured by Orion, causing her brother Apollo to become jealous and protective. Apollo then called upon the giant scorpion to chase Orion, and the great hunter flees into the sea. Attempting to save Orion’s life, Artemis shoots an arrow at what she thinks is the giant scorpion, but it turns out to be Orion’s head. Overseeing the whole thing Zeus comes in and places both Orion and the giant scorpion into the sky as constellations. There are many other alternative retellings to the myth, some involving the Pleiades or Eos (Goddess of Dawn), but in each variation, the giant scorpion either chases or kills Orion and both are placed into the sky. 

Just as all signs of the zodiac bear a connection to Greek mythos, they all also share ties to cards in the Major Arcana of the Tarot. Scorpio is associated with the thirteenth card, Death. Whilst there is no imagery of a scorpion on the Death card this card does relate to Scorpio, through its connection to Planet Pluto which is named for the Roman God of the Underworld and Wealth—whose Greek counterpart is Hades. Just as Pluto’s domain is recognised for not being solely a bad place as that’s where wealth comes from, the Death card of the tarot has more dimensions than simply death. 

Represented by a skeleton knight holding a black banner adorned with the mystic rose—a symbol of life—riding upon a white horse across a field, in the distance there are two towers between which the sun shines and before him a king, child and girl kneel while a priest stands waiting with his hands clasped. The divinatory meanings for Death in the upright position are about transformation, birth and rebirth, whilst in the reversed it hails stagnation and inertia. Linking with the Death card symbolises the power of Scorpio natives to overcome and transform, capable of looking past the surface to find the truths beneath. Scorpios have the ability to change their pain into love.

Pluto is known as The Great Renewer in astrology for its association to the part of a person that demolishes for the sake of rebuilding and its power to bring forth hidden desires. For those born under its rule between October 23rd and November 21st it bestows authority, the ability to succeed on their own but to be capable of collaborating with others, an inquisitive (or suspicious) nature, patience, and great charm. However it may also drive those under its rule to be self-destructive. 

Scorpios tend to be the sign most people are wary of. Like the scorpion that represents them, they have their own metaphorical poison stinger, and they don’t forget any slights. Let the charms of this anthology enchant you but be cautious, you never know when they might strike you with the unexpected.

About the Author:

Sasha Hanton grew up in the tropics of Darwin, Northern Territory. From a young age, she devoured books and iced coffee, both of which she continues to intake on an almost daily basis. Now living on beautiful Bribie Island in Queensland, her time is split between writing and spoiling her puppy Miley.

Sasha, who has a Bachelor of Journalism from Bond University, has dabbled in the journalistic profession but finds fiction far more fascinating. Her first published work The Short Story Press Collection draws on her love for a diverse range of genres and passion for short stories. Coming from a multicultural background (Eurasian) she aspires to make her writing inclusive for people from all walks of life and to bring a unique blend of eastern and western culture to her writing.

Throughout her life, she has been a lover of history and mythology, and at any time will find some way to worm one or the other into her storytelling. When she’s not writing or reading she can be found walking her dog and volunteering. You can keep up with her writing over on www.theshortstorypress.wordpress.com

Scorpion’s Sting

Nikky Lee

THE GIRL WAS DEAD. That much was clear as Scorpion scuttled across the hot sand. Face down, the girl’s hair had spilt across the earth in dark, spider-web strands. Eagle, Ant and Coyote had already taken their fill; her eyes were hollow sockets, her rib cage cracked open to the sky. 

Died of thirst, Scorpion said, studying the body. Not a violent death as far as she could see. Her claws opened and closed on the air, tail poised high over her head. A breath of wind stirred the sand and the scorpion shifted, tilting her body into a question as she turned to the ghost huddled in the sand by the dead girl’s feet.

Why are you still here? Scorpion asked.

The ghost girl raised her head, unwrapped her arms from her knees. Her skin was blotched and mottled in shades of blue, black and purple, just like Rattlesnake’s. You see me? she whispered. 

I see you, Scorpion replied. Though I should not. Why are you still here? To Scorpion’s mind, it was a pertinent question. The dead didn’t stay without reason. She crawled towards the body, her eight legs picking across the sand to find cracked lips around a tongueless mouth. Damned Coyote, taking all the best bits for himself.

The ghost drew circles in the earth. Or tried to. Her fingers slipped through the grains as if they were made from cloud. I died here, she said, sullenly. 

I can see that, Scorpion replied, picking her way through the dead girl’s hair and up onto the head. She moved down the body, heading for the open rib cage. Perhaps there she’d be able to twist off some meat that hadn’t hardened dry under the desert sun. Most don’t like to stick around to watch this.

The ghost’s eyes, dark and ringed in shadow, followed Scorpion’s progress, unflinching. Where else can I go? 

Scorpion tilted her body again, tail twitching in surprise. You don’t feel it?

Feel what?

A pull . . . Scorpion searched for the right words. Onward. Away from here.

The ghost cocked her head, a faint furrow on her brow. There was a scar there too, a white ridge that cleaved one eyebrow in half. Away to where?

Scorpion threw her claws skyward, exasperated. Somewhere not here. Truth be told, she didn’t know. The Pull didn’t apply to creatures of the Between. When their time came, they simply faded away. Scorpion had seen many fadings, thousands, perhaps millions, over the years. Saber-tooth, Auroch, and Dodo, among others. Their bodies had turned faint enough to see the desert and grasses through them. But Scorpion had not faded yet; her children were many and strong. 

The ghost, for her part, had fallen quiet, her eyes glazed as she searched inward. I don’t feel anything, she said after a long pause. 

Scorpion eyed her over a splayed rib as her claws worked a chunk of exposed flesh free. Nothing?

The girl shook her head, hugging her knees.

Intriguing. Scorpion abandoned her meal and approached the ghost. The girl’s feet were bare and transparent, but when Scorpion poked one foot, the flesh was still solid. Curious. She scuttled up the girl’s shin. The ghost’s muscles tensed underneath her eight legs. At the girl’s knees, where skin gave way to a sweat-yellowed dress, Scorpion paused to look into the girl’s face. What’s your name, ghost?

A pause. The wrinkle next to her scar deepened as the silence grew. I don’t know, the ghost said at last. 

This was not so surprising. Their names were often the first thing the dead forgot. Scorpion considered calling for Human and letting him deal with this, but Human was even worse than Coyote. And he stomped about something chronic, which always made Scorpion’s amour ache. No, she’d manage this incursion like she’d managed the others. 

What happened to you then? she asked, gesturing a claw at the bruises on the girl’s arms.

I was . . . The ghost closed her eyes, brow furrowing as she tried to remember. Hurting. They hurt me. A lot. Her voice grew stronger and her eyes roved beneath her eyelids. They said I should be thankful they took me in after Ma died. But they made me work. All day. With no water. Then she’d hit me, and he’d watch. Her ghostly body quivered. I ran away.

I can see you did, Scorpion said. Or that you tried to.

The girl looked to her corpse and she grew still, then dragged in a ghostly breath. I didn’t mean to die. The last word came out as a sob and she buried her face in her arms. 

Scorpion rested her claws on the girl’s arms. And yet here you are. If she could’ve sighed, she would have. But her accordion lungs weren’t made for that. Instead, Scorpion tapped first one leg, then another in a melancholy rhythm on the girl’s skin. A ghost with no pull. What to do, what to do. I could take you back. Not permanently, she added. A brief visit.

The ghost’s eyes met Scorpion’s glittering black ones. Why?

Scorpion shrugged her claws—a move learned from Human at some point over the years. To find your pull. She had thought the answer obvious, but the girl wasn’t of the Between. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—know these things. You can’t stay here, Scorpion said. It’s not good. For you or the Between. Her back arched at a memory of a dog who’d stayed trapped in the Between too long. At the end, it hadn’t been a dog anymore. Just hunger, eating everything that moved. It devoured Coyote three times before he learned not to stick his nose there. Once was enough for Scorpion. She shuddered, recalling those monstrous teeth crunching through her carapace. She might be immortal, but she still felt pain. Since then, she’d made a point not to let any ghost stay too long. Well? She prompted, sting quivering. The girl didn’t have a choice—not if Scorpion had any say in it. But it would be easier if the girl agreed. 

The girl’s tear-streaked face took in the desert sands; the scrawny grasses dotted here and there. She wiped her eyes, squared her jaw, and gave a short nod. Yes. I’ll do it.

Thank the Between. Good, Scorpion replied. If she could have smiled, she would have. Her tail arched, venom bulb tipped and ready. This is going to sting. 

She plunged her tail into the girl’s arm. 

THE GIRL BLINKED OPEN her corpse’s dead eyes. What is this?

A second chance, Scorpion said, clawing her way up the corpse’s dress and onto her head. Don’t waste it.

And this? the girl asked, pinching a lock of hair before her face. It twisted and coiled in her fingers like a worm on a hook, its end arching into a pointed sting.

Protection, Scorpion