Monday, September 28, 2009
She posted a link to a video that her friend made (and she happens to star in). It may not be the best video, but the song is hilarious. It reminds me of a song from Evil Dead: The Musical.
Ian stood and moved slowly all the while holding his head. He lifted the bar flap with his free hand and walked behind the bar to a sink. He ran cold water over his hands and splashed his face. Eyes closed, he grabbed a handful of napkins to wipe his face.
Angry waves tumbled in his belly. He turned to the mirrored wall and inspected his reflection.
He stood there for several minutes plucking bits of napkin from his beard.
As the choir grew more anxious, a horrible thought occurred to him. Dear God! No! Ana had already locked the front doors and was in the walk-in fridge arranging the kegs. Ian frantically searched every corner of the bar praying that he’d find The Freak, but he didn’t find anyone lurking in the dark shadows of the bar. He ran to the walk-in fridge and swung open the door. His head whirled in agony. Startled, Ana lost her balance and fell out of sight behind a wall of kegs.
“Ian! What the hell!” Ana said.
Ian’s huge frame took up the entire doorway, his head nearly touching the top of the frame.
Clutching his head, he started toward Ana. He was ready to traverse the wall of kegs when…“Shit, the office,” he thought.
Ian left Ana in the fridge and hurried toward the tiny office that also functioned as the storage room. On his way, he checked behind the ice machine. Nothing. He pushed open the tattered door to the office. The fluorescent light was already on, flickering. Not many places to hide in here unless The Freak buried himself beneath the boxes of bar naps and the bags of 12 oz. clear plastic cocktail cups. He kicked them aside throwing the cups across the small room. He looked beneath the desk where the drop safe was bolted to the floor. Nothing. He pulled on the large free standing cabinet where the petty cash box was kept along with bottles of liquor. Locked.
“Behind the juke box!” he thought. He went for the door and heard the tremble in her voice as she said, “I—Ian, W—what are you…”
Thunder cracked outside shaking the small office. A train moved out overhead and dirty water coursed down the mirrored walls. He was about to explain himself. For the first time this evening, his eyes found hers and, immediately, the choir brought pain that licked the back of his eyeballs. He knew he was plunging...M.C. Brody was born and raised in New Jersey and has, at various points in her life, worked as a bartender, a halfway house shift manager, a higher education administrator, and a federal defense contractor. She graduated from Rutgers University with a degree in Criminal Justice and completed graduate coursework at Stevens Institute of Technology. She lives on the Jersey shore with her husband and their three dogs.
Read more of "The Devil's Choir" this October is the first issue of Tainted Tea along with other unnerving tales by Rick McQuiston, Jessica Fowler and Kris Fossett. There will also be sinister art to feast your eyes on.
Friday, September 25, 2009
And just a reminder, though we are set for the first issue of Tainted Tea, there are still many issues to be printed. We're still accepting on a rolling submission basis, so don't forget to submit your work.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
After introducing some of my favorite music artists to my brother, I drove Kris home. (Don't worry, I was sober.) As I made my way home, I rounded the corner and crossed over this old, cement bridge. It is the perfect cliche for a horror movie: leering trees, consumed in darkness, not even a cricket chirpping. As I sang along to Ingrid Michaelson, a small creature sat in the middle of the road. It was too small and round to be a squirrel or a opossum.
I slowed my car down to see if the high beams would ward it off. It didn't flinch. Maybe it's dead or a shirt, I thought. Slowing down, I edged closer. It's head turned, riveting it's yellow eyes on me. Giving me a look of death, it flapped it's wings and took off into the night.
It may have only been an owl, but the rest of the ride home, I couldn't help but wonder if it was watching me. What if he was Jareth, the Gobling King, and was there to take me to his Labyrinth and make hostage of my family. I just found it too odd that an owl was sitting in the middle of the street. Who (no pun intended) knew they did that? I always thought that the scoped out their prey from trees.
It didn't help that whenever I drive through that area at night I think of the urban legend the hook. I always think that when I wind that corner over the bridge that a man in a hooded rain coat is going to be standing there, waiting, flashing his hook.
On that happy note, here is a cartoon of an urban legend. It took me years to find one of these videos. The one I was looking for was "The Hook," but alas! I could not find it.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Which is why I like this YouTube video so much:
The first issue of Tainted Tea is coming along quite nicely. Expect monsters, dark stairways, murder, and other fantastic things mid-October!
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Anyway, here are some short stories that have resonated and stuck with me over the years.
- Ray Bradbury: "Homecoming"
- Matt Venne: "Elvis Presley and the Bloodsucker Blues"
- Orson Scott Card: "Eumenides in the Fourth Floor Lavatory"
- Bram Stoker: "The Judge's House"
- Charlotte Perkins Gilman: "The Yellow Wallpaper"
- Joyce Carol Oates: "Thanksgiving"
- Roald Dahl: "Genesis and Catastrophe"
- Stephen King: "Popsy"
- William Sleator: "The Elevator"
- Amy Bloom: "Silver Water"