Dear Mr. Landsdale:
I would like to congratulate you on your story “Boys Will Be Boys” in the FenCon 2010 program booklet.
For years I have tried to write a story that gets into the head of a sociopath, and you’ve put together one that gets into the heads of not one, but two of them!
“Worm Within” was originally printed in “Clarkesworld” 2008.
“Lullabies For A Clockwork Child” is a PseudoPod Original.
“Used” is a PseudoPod Original and was reprinted in For Mortal Things Unsung.
“The strategic problem is, of course, that simulacra are reassuring only when viewed from outside. They do not provide an existential model for how to be in the world. One can appreciate the brilliance of the embalmer’s work, but one would not want to be its object.”
“Decadent Naturalism” by Charles Bernheimer; introduction to A HAVEN by J.K. Huysmans in THE DECADENT READER.
Sounds in this episodes:
“Ticks” for “Worm Within” can be found here.
“Static” for “Worm Within” can be found here
“Interstitial Clockwork” for “Lullabies For A Clockwork Child” can be found here
The LED bug kicks feebly, trying to push itself away from the wall. Its wings are rounds of mica, and the hole in its carapace where someone has tacked it to the graying boards reveals cogs and gears, almost microscopic in their dimension. The light from its underside is the cobalt of distress. (Continue Reading…)
“Why are so many people afraid of clowns and amused by mimes?”
Following careful overanalysis, I decided to treat myself for a change. I’d spent the last three years working during the day and attending school at night. You can understand why I thought I was entitled to some frivolity.
I settled on mime classes. I’d never even thought about miming, which is part of what drew me to it. I’d been living a drab, bookish life, so I wanted to go as far in the other direction as possible.
An Internet search found fewer mime classes than I anticipated. I figured in NYC there was enough interest in every artistic pursuit to support a small army of participants. Miming appeared to be the exception. If they rebranded it “mime yoga” perhaps it’d be different.
“The Lady With The Lantern” is a PseudoPod original. The lady with the lantern is a nautical folktale. This borrows the name, but re-imagines a very different spectre.
“The Bleeding Game” was first published online in the June 2013 issue of 713 Flash by Kazka Press.
“Making Paint As A Means Of Impermanence” is a PseudoPod original.
I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
La Belle Dame sans Merci, John Keats
The mine called Callum in his tenth year. One morning, he was walking to school with the other boys; a pair of new shoes, a boiled sweet in his cheek. The next, he found a pick in his soft hand, and his feet followed his father’s to the cold, dark portal. (Continue Reading…)
“It was at WriterHouse in Charlottesville, Virginia that I founded a member group for sci fi, fantasy and horror writers to meet and support each other. It’s a fantastic group and they helped motivate me to write, edit and submit this piece. Winter holidays are usually such a happy time, I wanted to try and do something seasonal that was a lot darker. I’ve always liked the pagan tradition of bringing in evergreens to give nature spirits a place to live during the cold weather and this story really came out of that idea- manifesting the rituals into something a lot more sinister and corporeal. I find the loss of control and fear that comes with this setting quite unsettling”
It always starts when the leaves change colour. At first they’re yellow, then golden before fading to a russet brown. I like the red ones the best, even though you could say they are the most obvious sign of what’s to come. They give you a rake and they tell you to make piles of the leaves. Your parents I mean, not the leaves. Though that wouldn’t be all that strange, considering. Sometimes when they aren’t watching we play in them, making big piles and knocking them over. It should be fun and it is, when you can forget that winter’s coming.
I think they started it all off, with the weird traditions, cutting down trees and bringing them indoors. Decorating everything in red and green, something about berries. Didn’t they notice that blood’s red too? Mamma says she remembers a time when winter was exciting, decorating a tree with glitter and ornaments to make it pretty. We don’t decorate our tree. Before, people believed that bringing foliage indoors was to provide a home for nature spirits, now that’s its purpose. I guess if you believe in something strongly enough, you can make it manifest. When the ornaments started to fall off by themselves and shatter on the floor, when it happened more than once, people started to notice. That’s what Mamma says. She said it was hard not to feel nervous that something else was going on when your entire tree had thrown off its decorations like an unwanted layer of skin.
Interstitial music is “Fearless Bleeder” by Chimpy, available from Music Alley.
“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” – C.S. Lewis
“Poor Me and Ted”
by Kate Jonez
Glory, Glory, Glory. That’s about the stupidest name you can give a person like me. But my mom had high hopes like lots of hard-working folks do. They use fancy names like they’re magic spells. As if naming a kid could somehow make it better than it really is. I don’t go in for that kind of crap. I named my kid John. Simple. John.
‘I know that mess is up here somewhere, Ted. I know it is.’
“The Beachcomber ”
by L.R. Bonehill
All that came back from the cold sea was Little Rosie-Cheeks. Washed ashore one late afternoon as rain whipped down from a slate-grey sky and a rough wind snapped across the beach. Face down in a rock pool, stranded in shallow water and silt. Red cheeks washed pale, white dress smeared with grime the colour of tobacco. A deep gouge cut across her forehead, the seams flecked with grit.
David held the doll now as he walked along the quiet beach. Held it by the hand as if it were a child at his side. It bumped and knocked against his leg as a litter of shells crunched underfoot. Water leaked through a split in the bottom of one shoe. He could taste salt in the breeze, the tang of brine on his tongue.
“Sanctuary”
by Steve Calvert
Raoul had been sleeping. He did not know what had awakened him. Perhaps his body had grown tired of sleep. Raoul slept a lot–too much–
but his hiding place was small and dark, so there was nothing else for him to do.
The Day the Words Took Shape by Francesca Haig
Juggernaut Revisited by Lou Morgan
The Anniversary by Den Patrick
Kraken Rising by Andrew Reid
Party at the Witch House by Richard Kellum
The Lake by Severity Chase
The Biggest Candle of Them All by Peter Newman
The Journey Into kickstarter: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/763571195/edgar-allan-poe-meets-ken-scholes-a-journey-into-e/posts
The Ghostwoods Books Kickstarter: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/960264226/ghostwoods-books-our-2014-15-list-of-6-to-8-books
Halloween Parade music is “Ominousity” by Nick and Gerald, from MusicAlley.com.
Most of the year, Jack was a fine enough boy. He almost always remembered to put his dirty socks in the hamper instead of under the bed. He certainly never hid his mama’s darning needles – except for when she deserved it. And if he occasionally didn’t go to sleep right when he told his papa he would, it was only because he was too afraid of the dark to turn out his light – and who can sleep with the light on? He hauled hay, set the table, did his schoolwork sometimes. Most of the year, Jack was a fine enough boy.