Halloween Flash #1

I love Halloween. Always have. I love spooky stuff. I love a haunted mood and a good gore fest both. So, in the spirit of the month, I plan to post a few horror flash pieces over the next few weeks as we approach the big night. Feel free to join in if you’re a mind too, and if you want to send me a notice that you’ve done so at Kainja at hotmail dot com (Put Halloween Horror in the subject line), or drop me a note in my comments section, then I’ll post the links to your stories here on my blog. Let’s call it Halloween Horror October. Below is my first burnt offering.

GOODNIGHT

You are lying awake and still in the darkness when you hear the noise, a soft shuffle, like rotted feet dragging on carpet.

Your heartbeat speeds. Your mouth dries. Who’s coming? Who’s coming!

The door to your bedroom opens, scritching back on hinges that need oiling. A shadow bulks in the faint glow from the hallway lamp. A scream rises in your throat, bulges your lips like vomit trying to escape.

But then you hear Momma say: “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“Yes, Momma,” you reply. And: “I love you, Momma.”

You think you see her smile. Certainly there is a flash of white in the dimness that could be her teeth.

The door closes and you lie awake and still. But no matter how still you lie, there is movement under the sheets.

You bite your lip. Your nose itches but you dare not lift a hand to scratch. You must: “sleep tight.”

Or else the mandible-clicking little monsters that Momma tucked in with you earlier will rip you to shreds.

--- the end ---
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It's the Emotion, Stupid!

I’m working on a horror story at the moment, and I’m struggling. Oh, the plot is there. And the characters. I know what is happening and going to happen (within some general limits), and I know who those things are going to happen to. What I don’t have is the “feel” of the piece. In short, I’m not making myself uncomfortable yet. I’ve found from experience that I don’t necessarily have to scare myself when I’m writing a horror story, but my gut damn well better be involved. I better remember to tell myself, "it's the emotion, stupid!"

I think the main problem is that I haven’t mentally switched gears from nonfiction to fiction yet in this piece. I’ve been doing so much nonfiction lately, particularly scientific writing, that it’s hard for me to force my intellect into the back seat and put my feelings into the driver’s seat. I’ve often said that I believe nonfiction, especially objective work like that which scientists write, can be created from the intellect alone. Fiction, on the other hand, demands, requires, cannot exist without, emotion.

Part of the problem also lies in the fact that I’m in a very busy period at school and I have not had the time to let the story soak into me in an emotional way. But because of Mardi Gras I’m now set for a four day break after today. I’m going to reintroduce myself to my fears and anxieties and all my other feelings. I may use the basic outline of what I’ve already constructed, but the viscera are going to be torn out and strewn around. One way or another, I’m going to remember what it’s like to look into a dark hole and feel like something is down there waiting for me. Or maybe not…waiting. Maybe it’s coming closer. Coming for me. Coming right now.

Maybe it’s right behind me!

A New Book To Read

Last night before my writing group met I picked up a copy of on writing horror, the revised edition, published by Writer's Digest Books, edited by Mort Castle but basically put together by the Horror Writers Association. I'm a member of HWA, although I had nothing to do with this book. I've barely cracked the book yet but it promises to be interesting. The first essay I read was by a certain Wayne Allen Sallee, a name some of you here might recognize. (He's the fantastic four to Stewart Sternberg's Dr. Doom.)

Here's one of the many things Wayne said that I liked: "No matter 'directions,' categories, genres, subgenres, or whether your terrors are archetype or topical -- your characters must be timeless."

Fortunately, humans have been humans for somewhere between 50,000 and 250,000 years, and we're likely to stay as we are for quite a bit longer, until the genetic modification people get lose, at least. Things change. Technology changes. Humans stay the same. You are human. Knowing yourself is a good way to know a lot about the human condition. But knowing yourself means being brutally honest with yourself. This requires that you do a lot of self-analysis, although it doesn't mean you necessarily have to tell others about your "weirdities." Some things are better left unsaid.

So I ask, all of you here, why do you do the crazy things you do? And don't lie. At least not to yourself.