Shock Totem 8: Curious Tales of the Macabre and Twisted Read online

  PUBLISHER/EDITOR

  K. Allen Wood

  CONTRIBUTING EDITORS

  John Boden

  Catherine Grant

  Barry Lee Dejasu

  Zachary C. Parker

  COPY EDITOR

  Sarah Gomes

  LAYOUT/DESIGN

  K. Allen Wood

  COVER DESIGN

  Mikio Murakami

  Established in 2009

  www.shocktotem.com

  Digital Edition Copyright © 2014 by Shock Totem Publications, LLC.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of Shock Totem Publications, LLC, except where permitted by law.

  The short stories in this publication are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The views expressed in the nonfiction writing herein are solely those of the authors.

  ISSN 1944-110X

  Printed in the United States of America.

  NOTES FROM THE EDITOR’S DESK

  Welcome to issue #8!

  If there were ever an issue to test my resolve, it was this one. Each issue presents challenges, like the order in which to put the stories, making sure everyone contributes their reviews, bios, story notes on time—you know, typical publisher stuff. But this time things were different...

  There was a baby in the house.

  Any parent will tell you raising children is a lot of work. This is something all non-parents take for granted, I think, because “a lot of work” is an understatement. Sleep deprivation is a serious problem, which makes editing and writing a daunting task. Free time is spent napping. Holding a baby requires at least one arm, so that makes typing nearly impossible. The list goes on.

  My wife and I have a wonderful little boy, who smiles all the time and rarely cries. Blessed, in a word. Lucky, in another. Had we a colicky baby, I’m not sure this issue (or the three other books I put together in the last four months) would ever have come out.

  But I wouldn’t change any of it. Not a single second. And though a tad late, Shock Totem #8 is here—behold!—and I think it’s a fantastic issue. Which probably surprises no one.

  But let’s see, we’ve got Cody Goodfellow and John Skipp, who as collaborators have penned numerous short stories as well as the modern-horror classics Jake’s Wake and Spore. Here, however, they both provide individual stories—“The Barham Offramp Playhouse” and “Depresso the Clown,” respectively—for your reading pleasure.

  Carlie St. George’s “We Share the Dark” follows a woman struggling to leave her ghosts behind. “Death and the Maiden,” by David Barber, revisits a classic time and a classic character in horror fiction. D.A. D’Amico’s “Watchtower” and John C. Foster’s “Highballing Through Gehenna” both traverse surreal landscapes full of monsters and madness.

  WC Roberts, last seen in our third issue, returns with another mindbending slice of poetry.

  Newcomer Harry Baker honors us with his first sale, “Fat Betty,” a stark reminder that sometimes it’s better to give than to take. “Stabat Mater,” by Michael Wehunt, was our flash fiction contest winner for 2013, chosen by our guest judge, Bracken MacLeod, as the best of the five bi-monthly winning stories for the year.

  In addition to all the fiction-y goodness, you will find conversations with Cody Goodfellow and rising star Adam Cesare, narrative nonfiction by Catherine Grant, an article by Joe Modzelewski, reviews, and more...

  So there you have it. All the sleepless nights—or days in my case—may have made this issue a much more difficult undertaking than past issues, but when all is said and done, I think this is another fine issue. I can only hope you do as well.

  And say, if this isn’t enough for you, right on its heels comes our Valentine’s Day issue, the second in our ongoing series of holiday releases. If you’re looking for a collection of “love” stories, we’ve got you covered.

  As always, take care and stay well.

  K. Allen Wood

  January 1, 2014

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Notes from the Editor’s Desk

  Nosferatu: The Origin of Vampires on Screen

  An Article

  by Joe Modzelewski

  Highballing Through Gehenna

  by John C. Foster

  We Share the Dark

  by Carlie St. George

  The Highland Lord Brought Low

  Narrative Nonfiction

  by Catherine Grant

  Swearing at the Dinner Table

  A Conversation with Cody Goodfellow

  by John Boden

  The Barham Offramp Playhouse

  by Cody Goodfellow

  Whisperings Sung Through the Neighborhood of Stilted Sorrows

  by WC Roberts

  Strange Goods and Other Oddities

  Watchtower

  by D.A. D'Amico

  Death and the Maiden

  by David Barber

  Bloodstains & Blue Suede Shoes, Part 6

  by John Boden and Simon Marshall-Jones

  Fat Betty

  by Harry Baker

  Until I'm Dead

  A Conversation with Adam Cesare

  by K. Allen Wood

  Stabat Mater

  2013 Shock Totem Flash Fiction Contest Winner

  by Michael Wehunt

  Depresso the Clown

  by John Skipp

  Howling Through the Keyhole

  NOSFERATU: THE ORIGIN OF VAMPIRES ON SCREEN

  An Article

  by Joe Modzelewski

  In recent years, the modern vampire has flooded our pop-culture zeitgeist. From TV shows such as Vampire Diaries or True Blood to recent movies such as the infamous Twilight series or even Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, which showcases a presidential icon combating monsters colonial style, it seems that the modern horror archetype of the vampire has seeped its way into nearly every nook and cranny of the entertainment medium.

  It appears that our world will always be engrossed with blood-sucking, neck-biting creatures of the night. However, it was not always so that vampires could have love-interests with mere mortals or that they held even the slightest bit of romantic or likeable attraction. There was a time where vampires were seen as strictly terrifying demons that would make your spine tingle with fear at just the thought. On film, the classic vampire came into fruition with a 1922 German film, Nosferatu.

  The presence of vampire-like creatures in folklore and mythology dates back to ancient civilizations. However, the actual term “vampire” was first recorded in the English language in the mid-18th century. Back then, it was spelled vampyre; but in the past century or so that has changed to how it is commonly spelled today. Vampire legend was once very popular in rural Eastern European countries and many tales were derived from alleged experiences and confrontations with supposed vampire-like beings. Some accused were tried and put on trial for the possibility of being a vampire.

  The romanticised, gaunt, pale, eerily charming vampire that we all are familiar with today did not entirely exist until 1897, with Bram Stoker’s Dracula. This would become known as the definitive work of fiction in regard to what exactly a vampire is. Its influence would ring true for
decades and even a century later. Although there were other literary takes on vampires before it, Dracula became the most highly regarded and revered.

  At the same time as the success of Dracula, film and the concept of cinema was quickly gaining attraction. This was especially true in Europe. It is even said that at one time (and still argued today) that European cinema was much more advanced and beyond its time than Hollywood ever was in North America. German and French filmmakers were leading the way in film innovation. German director F.W. Marnau felt that Dracula would make a wonderful screen adaptation. Of course this would be true for decades to come, as countless takes on the stories have been made, but it was a ambitious project for the time.

  Marnau was unable to obtain the legal rights to Dracula, and so while he still used it as basis of the plot, he changed a few details to avoid being a direct copy. Dracula was changed to Nosferatu, Count Dracula was changed to Count Orlok, Jonathan Harker to Thomas Hutter, Mina Harker to Ellen Hutter, and so on. Some plot points were changed, but the product is something that can truly stand on its own and still to this day holds up as an irresistibly creepy and haunting tale of suspense and horror.

  Nosferatu, released in 1922, is credited with being the first vampire film ever made and at the time, it really shocked and scared audiences. Its full title, Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror, is true to the film itself. Although silent, the beautiful score that is played throughout, originally composed by Hans Erdmann, effortlessly sets the tones of each scene with a flux that changes from serene fluidity to jagged terror. The music allows each shot to evoke such genuine emotions from the audience that are not purely nostalgic but contemporary and real.

  Each scene in Nosferatu displays a certain tint for whatever time of day it is and each shade of color adds to the simple black and white, which on its own can be quite powerful as well. Nosferatu is a haunting film on its own merit, but a true standout performance is made by Max Schreck, who plays as Count Orlok. Schreck is sure to strike a certain discomfort with his hollowed eyes and ghostly appeal. The way he stares out at the audience, vacant yet menacing and, amidst the absence of sound, unnerving. The lack of any sort of sound besides the composed score gives you the sense of a nightmarish realm of twisted reality and adds much more to the final product as a whole.

  Nosferatu is a film that deserves to be seen by any fan of the genre as it truly was and still is one of the greatest horror gems in cinema history. Unfortunately, a lawsuit was launched against Marnau because his film so closely resembled Dracula and so his production company was ordered to destroy every copy that they had. Luckily, one copy survived and since then, has been duplicated many times and multiple versions are available online as well as on a restored version on Blu-Ray, which is absolutely magnificent.

  Since Nosferatu, many more vampire films have been made and while some of them are good and some of them are not, the genre itself has taken off with velocity and universal appeal. Nearly everyone has heard of the classic Dracula tale and its influence within the horror genre has been unmistakably present and heard. Bela Lugosi would come to encapsulate the “classic Dracula” in 1931, with the widespread release of Dracula across North America. However, it is worth offering much deserved credence to Marnau’s gothic masterpiece. Such an iconic figure really began with what is considered film’s first cult movie: Nosferatu.

  HIGHBALLING THROUGH GEHENNA

  by John C. Foster

  Groans and cries of protest erupted from the crowded station as a man in overalls climbed a ladder up to the giant board. The family watched as the man slid flat plaques onto the board.

  The little girl: “What does it say, daddy?”

  The father: “Sound it out, honey.”

  The little girl: “C-A…can…C-E…can-cell-ed?” She put too much emphasis on the E and D at the end of the word, but her father nodded absently.

  The man in the overalls struggled to ignore the increasing number of shouts directed at him. Someone jostled his ladder and for a moment it looked like it might topple.

  “The storms are comin’ in, you fools!” The man in overalls shouted, angry and slightly frightened. He looked back at the board, tapping every departure where he had inserted a wooden plaque reading CANCELLED.

  The noon departure he left unmolested. ON TIME it said. The father looked again at the three tickets he held, as if afraid they had changed while in his breast pocket.

  Departure Time - 12:00.

  • • •

  “What the hell is that?” Oswego said, pointing a gnarled finger at a Pinkerton’s belt.

  “A grenade, captain,” the Pinkerton said.

  The locomotive chuffed, the sound of a plains lion claiming territory. A cloud of steam enveloped them where they stood on the platform while the passengers streamed past.

  “They come with the storm, son,” Oswego said. “Winds maybe sixty, seventy miles an hour. You throw that thing into the wind, where’s it gonna go?”

  Oswego pointed at the windows of a rapidly filling passenger car. “Maybe there? Maybe land on the tracks beneath a car, derail the whole train?”

  “I’ll get rid of it, sir,” the Pinkerton said.

  Oswego stepped closer, a towering man. The Pinkerton’s eyes focused on the strong, white teeth in the dark, scarred face.

  “Twenty three times I’ve made this run. We were hit four times, always in a storm, but never lost a train,” Oswego said. “Be smart, son.” He waved at a family walking past, a little girl with eyes wide enough to fall into. “This cargo is important.”

  • • •

  Dalton Worth led his wife and daughter alongside the train, looking for car number five. The train was a massive thing, twenty cars long. Twenty cars with paint peeling from the sides, walls reinforced with two by fours and concertina wire. Twenty cars to carry them north away from the rising waters. Through storm country.

  “Look daddy,” Miri said. “That car is metal.”

  Dalton glanced at a car with sides of corrugated steel, wrapped in chain link fencing. He glanced at his wife, Celia, and she shook her head.

  “Hey, it has two front cars,” Miri said, pointing up ahead.

  “Locomotives,” Celia said anxiously. The sound and smell on the train platform were horribly present, the reality of their impending trip north no longer deniable. “One is just a backup.”

  But it wasn’t. They had heard the stories. The great black steam engine belching clouds of smoke and sparks pulled the train, heaving with muscles of iron. The second locomotive had a different purpose, if the rumors were true.

  “Ace-la,” Miri said, sounding out the fading letters painted on the sleek siding. In a train built of cast-off parts, held together with duct tape and baling wire, the second locomotive was the strangest piece. It was shaped differently. And though older by far than the steam engine in front of it, the second locomotive hinted at a technology out of their reach.

  “Acela,” Dalton said. “I think it means fast.”

  “All aboard,” the conductor said. A steam whistle shrieked and Miri covered her ears, laughing.

  • • •

  “Tickets please,” the conductor said as he reached their row. Miri held up the three tickets and the conductor leaned forward with a serious expression on his face.

  “This here says you’re going all the way to Detroit, is that true?” He spoke up a bit to be heard over the rattle and clatter of the moving train.

  “Yessir,” Miri said. “My daddy said the capital is booming.”

  The conductor leaned back and laughed as he used his ticket puncher to mark their tickets. He slipped small red markers into the rail over their seats.

  “That it is,” the conductor said. “All you fine folks comin’ up from the south have filled it ‘til it’s ready to bust. Sidewalks full of people day and night. Electric lights and all the food you want to eat. You like to eat?”

  “Does she ever,” Celia said, smiling.

  “Any kind of fo
od?” Miri asked.

  “Any kind,” the conductor said. “My favorite is fried chicken and waffles. You like fried chicken and waffles?”

  Miri turned and buried her face in her mother’s side, overcome by a sudden bout of what they called the shy.

  “Thank you,” Celia said to the conductor.

  “That’s alright, you folks gonna be alright,” the conductor said. He turned to glance at Dalton, who was sitting across the aisle. “Just listen to the announcements when they come. You’re in car five. Got that? Car five.”

  “Car five,” Dalton said.

  • • •

  Dalton heard his name and jolted awake as Celia reached across the aisle and poked his shoulder.

  “…recommend you close your blinds if you’re on the west side of the train,” the conductor was saying from the front of the car, his voice silencing the quiet conversation of the passengers. “I’ll be back in about a half an hour, that’s thirty minutes, folks, and give you the go ahead to open those blinds again.”

  He turned and slid open the door between cars, the volume and clatter increasing tremendously until he slid it closed behind him.

  Celia leaned over and tugged their blinds down, glancing at Dalton.

  “Oh Jesus,” someone said a few rows behind them.

  “Close them, close the blinds,” another voice said.

  A faint odor permeated the car. Smoke with something ugly and rotten underneath.

  “It stinks,” Miri said. Other voices were expressing similar sentiments.

  “What is that?” A woman said.