Time once again for my Weekly Exercises. These flash fiction pieces are part opportunity to practice my craft, part sounding board so as I can feedback on what works and what doesn’t work when I write, and part shameless plug to get readers interested in my published fiction. Remember, the Weekly Exercises rely on reader feedback, so whatever your thoughts, it’s greatly appreciated if you leave a comment and let me know.
Also, if you wish to see my past Weekly Exercises, please follow the link to the Weekly Exercises page.
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He was angry. He’d been taken from the prison system as soon as his mother had died. They said they were going to take him to the funeral service. A special treat, said Officer Marcus, for good behavior. If anything, Teddy would’ve rather had a drink and some video games to celebrate his mother’s death rather than go to his funeral and see if anyone actually showed up, let alone anyone showed up with anything nice to say. After all, Teddy’s mother had let him go to school hungry every day to pay for her drug habit. And when he started breaking into people’s homes in high school, she had given him up as a scoundrel and a menace and lied at the trial! Now at least she could finance her drug habit without having to worry about her kid.
But he was glad to get out of prison for a little while. He could see the sun without having bars around him, and maybe convince these cops to stop by McDonalds for some real food.
But then he’d been taken to a government lab and drugged. And then they’d started experimenting on him, putting weird stuff into his bloodstream. What were they trying to achieve? To turn him into a super soldier? To see how they could awaken telekinetic abilities in him? To see how much a person could be tampered with before their bodies broke down? Or did they just do it for kicks and they had a poor minority kid in the system, so why not use him? Nobody would miss him!
But at some point the experiments had worked. And now he was taking his revenge. The scientists ran in terror while soldiers came for him with bullets. Teddy let them come, let them feel his wrath. He hit them with one of his new tentacles and then started biting them with his poisonous fangs. He was a monster, but he was finally the one in control of his life instead of stupid adults who only cared about themselves.
With a crash and a bang Teddy escaped the lab onto the roof. Far away were the lights of a huge city. Jumping off the roof, crashing through the gates and hiding in the forest, Teddy slowly made his way towards the city, using the trees and rocks and the river to hide from his pursuers. Now that he was out, he thought he’d hit the town and have a little fun.
It’s time for my Weekly Exercises again. These flash fiction pieces are part chance to practice my craft, part sounding board so that my readers can tell me what they think works or doesn’t work, and part shameless marketing ploy to get people interested in my published work. Remember, these Weekly Exercises rely on reader feedback, so whether you love it or hate it, please let me know. I love to hear your opinions.
This week’s exercise is a bit longer than the past seven have been. But it needed to be in order to get what I wanted out of it. Tell me, is it better being longer than the others? Or I was better being brief? You decide.
Hope you like it. And if you wish to read more of my Weekly Exercises, you can find them all on their very own page.
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Lacey had been staring at the painting ever since they’d moved into the house. It came with the house, her mother said. It wasn’t very amazing, for a painting. It was a bunch of ladies in big dresses holding parasols on a beach. The plaque on the frame said it was called The Spider’s Web by William Ryan and painted in 1865. Other than the weird title, she didn’t know why she was so obsessed with the painting.
But for some reason Lacey kept staring at it, kept coming to look at the women in the dresses. Sometimes she thought she could hear the sound of waves and seagulls, a snatch of womanly laughter. And she wanted to know what the laughter was about.
Until the little girl appeared in the painting, though. She hadn’t been there before, hadn’t been holding the women’s hands when Lacey first moved here. And for some reason, the little girl looked a lot like Lacey. And she heard her voice giggling with the woman’s laughter and the seagulls and the ocean waves. She wanted to be in the painting too.
Momma was worried about Lacey. “You spend too much time in front of that painting.” she said. “Play with some toys. Watch TV. Go to school and make some friends. Put rocks up your nose.” And Lacey did all those things, went to school and made friends and played with toys and did things kids shouldn’t do. But she still stared at that painting. Stared at it, and the little girl with the women in the painting
And the painting whispered to her. It said that she could come in. They wanted Lacey to come in and be with them. Lacey wished and dreamed to be in the painting with them. And then one day, the women and little girl came out of the painting. But when they did, they became a big spider with a woman’s head. Lacey wasn’t scared though. She wanted this. And the spider lady picked her up in its six arms and brought her into the painting. And then Lacey was with the ladies on the beach, holding their hands and laughing with them.
She never knew what they laughed about, or that Momma cried when she disappeared, or that the spider lady was eating her soul bit by bit. But she laughed anyway, because she got her wish.
Some of you may be wondering what the scariest chapter I’ve ever written so far must be. I write scary stories, so it must be something gruesome. What could it be? Monsters? Evil spirits? Something not of this world or any other world we know of?
If you guessed pure, human evil, then you were correct.
I’ve written several times on this blog that one of my works-in-progress, Laura Horn, has a teenage girl and a survivor of sexual assault as its protagonist. Naturally, the question came up of whether or not to actually show her sexual assault in the novel. I’m not sure when I decided on that issue, though it was probably when I wrote the outline for the novel. But I decided to show her assault, devoting Chapter 17 of the book to it.
The past few weeks, where I knew it was only a matter of time till I reached that chapter, were not terrifying, nerve-wracking, or exciting as I expected writing a sexual assault would be. Instead, I just felt a sort of…acceptance, I guess. I’d committed to writing that sort of scene, and when I finally got to it, I got to it.
And last night, after finishing Chapter 17 of Video Rage, I took a short break, and then I started writing Chapter 17 of Laura Horn. Today, after finishing up my homework and meditation class, I did the last of it. and now the first draft of that chapter is complete.
I don’t know if what I’ve written will resonate with readers or feel real to them. I wrote this scene based on testimonies and memoirs by rape victims that I’ve read, the articles I’ve read on the statistic and psychology of rape, more Law & Order: SVU episodes than I dare mention, and my own overactive and sometimes unhealthy imagination. (Those last two I’m not sure you can count as credible sources). But if I’ve done my job right, then I will be able to put the reader directly into Laura’s state of mind at the time of her assault, make them understand what she’s been through and how it’s affected her three years after the event when the story takes place. And only then will the readers really understand who Laura Horn is, and truly be able to empathize with her.
And speaking of which, I’ve had trouble at certain points of writing this story getting into Laura’s head and understanding her both as a character and as a person. But having just written the formative event of her young life, I now can truly get into her head, understand her motivations, her thoughts, were obsession with avoiding drawing attention to herself. So hopefully writing the rest of Laura Horn will be a little bit easier.
However, that doesn’t change the fact that this is the scariest chapter I’ve ever written. In fact, it scared me personally, because I was terrified of the fact that I could conceive this scene and then write it down without losing my stomach. Even now, I’m wondering how screwed up I truly am to write such a scene. Considering how many times Stephen King’s written that sort of scene, I can say I’m fairly f***ed up.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever do such a scene again. However I do believe that when Laura Horn makes it to print, whenever that is, if I’ve done my job right, then the readers will feel the fear I wish to convey. And maybe they’ll understand the terror and trauma of rape victims. Maybe the book will help people who’ve experienced sexual assault. Maybe it’ll cause some people to think before they say someone deserves to be raped. I don’t know if any of that’ll happen, but it’s my hope that it will.
And now I’m going to take a break from writing. I’ve done a lot in the past 48 hours, and I’d like a little break before I pick up with Video Rage Ch. 18. I’ll need to recharge my batteries, especially after writing that sexual assault scene.
Had a pretty interesting experience today. This morning as I was getting ready to leave the house for my meditation class when I had an idea for a short story. I wanted to write it down, but I was about to leave the house though, so I couldn’t write it down. Instead I made a promise to write it down as soon as I had the opportunity to do so.
Just one problem: a good percentage of what passes through our five senses and through our thoughts gets forgotten pretty quickly if we don’t really grab onto the details and keep it in the short-term memory. And guess what? I didn’t seize a hold of this idea and now I’ve completely forgotten it! (I have a feeling it has something to do with the movie Pacific Rim, but other than that I cannot remember a single detail). And when I realized that, you know my beat myself up over losing it.
So I spent my meditation class trying to meditate my idea back to myself. I went over my morning, trying to find the moment where I had that spark of inspiration. However, I didn’t catch it. Whatever that idea was, for now it’s been lost to the darker recesses of my memory.
However, the day and the meditation wasn’t a total wash. I did manage to come up with a second idea that was just as good as the first (I think). I remembered a story I read last night, about a man from my state who had chained up his German Shepherd to a tree for four years and had neglected, abused and tortured the poor thing during that time (as hard as it is to read, I urge you to check out here). I thought to myself, what if the police hadn’t intervened and something happened to the dog? I recalled a certain belief from Southeast Asia about what happens when you abuse certain dogs, and I decided to turn that into a short story.
So while I would like to still get that idea back (and maybe someday I will), I think this idea is pretty cool as well. And it gust goes to show how ideas keep bubbling up in a writer’s imagination. It also shows you need to write them down as soon as you get them, but I think I already mentioned that. If I have any other good ideas, I’ll let you all know.
By the way, has anything like this happened to you? How did you feel about it?
It’s time again for my Weekly Exercises. These flash fiction pieces are part opportunity to practice my craft, part sounding board to hear from readers what they think works and doesn’t work, and part shameless plug to get people interested in my published work. Remember, the Weekly Exercises rely on reader feedback, so whatever your thoughts, please let me know. I like feedback, positive or negative.
This week’s exercise is brought to you by Water. “Water: You need it, so why not take a dip?” It’s also brought to you by Fear. “Fear: the makers of ‘What was that?'”
Enjoy.
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She’d been kidnapped on the way home from her last class. He’d taken her to his home, tied her up, done things to her. He said there’d been news reports about a missing co-ed from the local college, a pretty redhead whom nobody could think of why someone would want to hurt her. He’d laughed all the while he was hurting her.
Now he’d tied her up, put a gag in her mouth, and thrown her into the pit behind his house, naked as the day she was born. He said he was done and had had his fun. She screamed up to him through the gag, begging for mercy. He said he’d installed a drain in the pit that could only be opened from above. Then he closed it and snaked a hose in.
Cold water fell from above. She cried, begging for her life. She’d do anything for him. But all he did was laugh and watch and film it with his camera, like he’d filmed everything else he’d done to her. The water was up to her ankles. She tried to break her bonds, but they were too strong. The water was up to her waist now. There wasn’t room to move, and she couldn’t swim. Up to her neck now, very little moonlight left. She cried a tear, but it was lost in all the water.
Adam & Eve: the original sex story that’s been denounced as evil and immoral.
I’m actually kind of sick while I’m writing this post, so if it’s not up to my usual quality, I apologize. Also, if you want to make me matzo ball soup or something, please make sure it’s prepared in a manner that is acceptable under the laws of kashrut. For an easy guide to cooking kashrut, please contact your local rabbi or read a guidebook to Jewish cooking.
Okay, enough rambling that unfortunately we cannot blame my current condition on. I don’t know if anyone’s noticed this, but the horror genre–whether it be books, movies, comic books, or TV shows on FX–has a lot of sex. It’s one of the draws of the genre, and it’s also one of the things horror authors are criticized for the most (besides the whole–you know–the fact that we write about scary, bloody things that often kill/maim/cover us in blood). Sometimes it seems that there’s more sex in a horror movie than there is horror.
The question is, why? Why is there so much sex in horror stories?
Well, I’m not exactly sure. Besides demons that use sex as a weapon in ancient legends and folklore, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of material on this subject before the 19th century. I do know that works by early horror writers like Edgar Allen Poe and Mary Shelley, who wrote around the same time, didn’t have a lot of sex in their work, and any that did was only subtly hinted at (for example, “The Fall of the House of Usher” hinted at an incestuous relationship between Usher and his sister, but never exactly came out and said it). However things started to change around the turn of the century. Dracula contained several themes about Victorian sexual mores, and theater productions of horror stories often used sex to draw crowds in. I’m not as familiar with the works of HP Lovecraft as I should be, but I bet there might be some naughtiness hinted at in those stories.
(And if I am wrong, I apologize and ask that you please notify me immediately of the fact)
“Bleh! I am so chaste! Bleh!”
Early horror films like the original Phantom of the Opera film with Lon Chaney, Nosferatu, the Universal horror films and some others skirted around sex (mostly because Hollywood had much more stringent censorship back then), but it was still present in books and comics of the time, which led to comic books being censored as well. However with the fifties and sixties came the sexual revolution, and mores surrounding sexuality loosened. This started being reflected in horror, with Stephen King in the seventies debuting with Carrie and Salem’s Lot, which had plenty of sex and sexual themes in them. Slasher films made use of sex as well, showing sex alongside blood and gore well into the late eighties and nineties. Buffy the Vampire Slayer debuted in the late nineties, during which the connection between sex and horror was often explored and commented upon within the show and by its viewers.
Fast forward a little bit, and you have the Scream movies, which poked fun at the supposed “rules of horror movies” (see video below), the Friday the 13th remake which had so much sex, it kind of lost the point of the film till near the end (but still couldn’t salvage the story), and American Horror Story, which actually manages to use sex in an artful way without taking away from the terror of the show.
(If anyone feels my history lesson in horror and sex is lacking something, once again I apologize.)
But like I said, all this sex in the horror genre has its consequences. Some will say that horror is using sex to draw in its audiences, like when you have a pretty girl being tortured while in her underwear (I think that’s a new way of looking at torture porn). Others say that horror authors are making a morality statement when they say “sin” like sex, drugs or booze causes you to die horribly, and the sweet virgin is the only one who survives (albeit with severe trauma). Plenty of critics believe that all the sex, along with the gore and killing, are warping the minds of children and teenagers (I don’t believe that for one minute). And feminists criticize horror authors for objectifiying and sometimes demonizing women and their sexuality in their work.
For that last one, I have to admit, we’ve been guilty of that a few times. So has certain evangelists and nutcases and whatnot, but yeah, horror authors have done this a few times. The video below provides some examples on this.
But this still doesn’t explain how sex has gotten to be such a part of the genre of horror. Maybe it serves as a relief for audiences. After seeing something so scary, a little sex can actually serve to relax people. In some funeral parlors, they’ll actually have lewd statues or paintings in order to make the grieving feel a little better (not kidding). At the same time, sex could act as a way to ramp people up, show them a little nudity, and then when they’re excited, scare them silly with some blood and death.
Personally, I’m of the opinion that if there’s more sex in a horror movie than there is horror, it’s probably because the filmmakers realized they have a pretty weak story to begin with, and need something to draw the audiences in with. I don’t know if anyone else shares that opinion, but I definitely believe it. And it certainly would explain a lot.
And occasionally, sex serves as part of the plot, like how in AHS: Asylum Kit and Grace having sex is used to further certain elements of the story. So occasionally sex can be used in a good way in the horror genre, instead of just making us worry that the people behind the story you’re watching or reading about just needed something after a very bad dry spell.
Here’s another question to ask yourself: Is my story more likely to get this rating than an R or PG-13 rating if I use sex?
I’m still not sure why sex is so intrinsically a part of the horror genre. However, because it is, I think it should be used more wisely. If you write horror stories, unless you’re trying to use sex as part of your story in a tasteful way or as a tool to further character development, then you should probably leave the sex out. Ask yourself this: what does this story gain from me using sex in it?
If you can’t think of a valid reason, then don’t put the sex in. (You can also ask this question for gore, and I highly recommend that you do).
In addition to being the second-month anniversary of The Quiet Game: Five Tales To Chill Your Bones (post to come later) this is also the day I do my weekly exercises. These flash fiction pieces are chances to practice my craft, chances to hear reader views, and shameless plugs to get you interested in my published fiction. And today’s the fifth one, meaning I can stick with this.
Remember, the exercises depend on reader feedback, so whatever you think, please let me know. I love hearing from you.
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He had killed them all. A year ago, he and his wife had left a restaurant and they had jumped him, beaten him and given him a Glasgow smile, so now he always looked like he was smiling. He’d lived, but his wife hadn’t been so lucky. She had been raped and killed by the punks who’d cut his face open. The autopsy had revealed she was three weeks pregnant with their first child.
The police couldn’t find them. Didn’t have the time, with all the gang crimes in this city. But he hadn’t stopped looking for them. And he’d found them. And now they lay all around him, with eternal smiles full of blood on their faces. He looked at their pitiful faces, and then he left. He was going to put flowers on his wife’s grave.
Two reviews in one post. That’s a new one for me. But what do you expect from me? Two very interesting series having two significant events on the same night, one after the other? Of course I’m going to do a double review! So without further ado, let’s start the analysis and reviews:
Now that’s what I call graphics.
Sleepy Hollow Based on the famous short story by Washington Irving, Sleepy Hollow is an updated version of the classic tale, where Ichabod Crane is a Revolutionary War hero instead of a teacher. Get this: he’s the one who beheaded the famous Headless Horseman. Now the Horseman’s back, and Ichabod’s returned from the grave to stop him…and whoever’s controlling him. With some Biblical themes mixed in, some good ol’ fashioned American legend and folklore, and some superb acting, I think this could be the start of a great series.
So far I have only two complaints: one is that Ichabod, played by actor Tom Milson, seems not as culture-shocked as you’d expect for an 18th century man finding himself in the year 2013…or as torn up over the death of his wife Katrina, who appears to him in a ghostly dream. Also, I have a feeling that the series’ producers are trying to create a mythology from the first episode. While I admire that, let’s hope they don’t shove it down our throats. Give us the mythology too quickly and viewers may be turned off from it.
Other than that, the show seems really great. The characters seem very real to me, and the chemistry between Ichabod and Sheriff Abbie Mills (Nicole Beharie) is already strong, like Mulder and Scully in some ways. Also the cast is very diverse, which both brings a little humor to the show (Ichabod is surprised that Abbie, who is a woman and African American, isn’t a slave and is instead a lieutenant, making everyone rolls their eyes or laugh with a knowing smile) and makes me think we’re actually making some progress in terms of race relations. Not much, but some. And the show is filmed in the actual town of Sleepy Hollow, New York. Yes, there’s an actual Sleepy Hollow. It changed its name from Tarrytown a few years back to honor the original Irving story, in which Sleepy Hollow is a part of the Tarrytown township or district or whatever. Who knew!
All in all, I’m giving Sleepy Hollow a 4.6 out of 5. I’m looking forward to the rest of the season, and seeing whether this show can keep up the momentum or…you know what, I’m not even going to finish that sentence lest I jinx it. Let’s hope for the best.
Purists hate this show, but most seem to love it.
Under the Dome In so many ways this show, based on the uber-long novel by Stephen King, who executive produced the show, departs from the original story. And as we saw tonight, it can sometimes stay true to the original tale. In the meantime, we’ve seen an incredible season. I was skeptical when I saw the first episode this summer (see the review here), but the story got better and better with every episode, taking the story in new directions, developing very real characters, and throwing in as many mysteries as it could without overwhelming viewers.
In a way, it’s really amazing how the show weaves in so many ideas and subplots and characters in a coherent narrative. That’s something I’d like to be able to do someday, and do it with ease as well. In any case, I’m not surprised that Under the Dome will be returning next summer for a second season, especially based on that very strange cliff-hanger of a season finale. If you haven’t gotten into the show yet, I suggest you look it up. Dean Norris from Breaking Bad could easily win an Emmy for his work on the show as town councilman James “Big Jim” Rennie, especially now that Bad‘s over and done with (at least I think it is. The series ended, right?). And Dale “Barbie” Barbara, the show’s lead played by Mike Vogel, looks underdeveloped as a character at first glance, but you find this bad-ass charm, mystery, and kindness on the second. I think it’ll be interesting to see what they do with him in the second season.
For the season finale, I give UTD a well deserved 4.6 out of 5. And for the entire first season…I’m awarding it a 4.8 out of 5, for taking a complicated story and a not-so-good start and making it one of the TV events of the summer. Yeah, I said that. Weep, Miley Cyrus. Your little freak-out on MTV didn’t hit my radar.
Expect more TV show reviews as new and exciting series, like Dracula or Marvel: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. begin this fall, and a few movies such as Carrie and Catching Fire come out. Not to mention the Doctor Who 50th anniversary special, The Day of the Doctor, comes out this November. I cannot wait!
Well, that’s all for now. Hope to do my weekly exercises tomorrow. Good night everybody!
It’s time for my weekly exercises. These pieces of flash fiction are part chance to practice my craft, part oppurtunity to get reader feedback on what’s scary and what’s not, and part shameless marketing ploy to get people interested in my published work. Remember, these exercises depend on reader feedback, so please give me your thoughts, good or bad, on the piece below.
The sky turned black as midnight. Everyone stared towards the heavens and the inky blackness. A moment ago the sky had been bright and blue, the sun still high above at four in the afternoon. But then it had turned pitch-black, like looking into an inkpot. No moon, no stars. Not a single source of light burned in the sky, and not even street lamps sensitive to changes in light could dispel away the darkness.
Family huddled together in fear. Lovers held each other, comforting each other in order to forget their disorientation and confusion. People left their offices, homes, and stores just to stare at the impossibly-black sky. For maybe five minutes, nothing changed and nobody moved, just looking at the sky in terrified wonderment.
And then a giant, skeletal hand appeared from the inky blackness and reached down as if to grab them all and take them away. Maybe that was its purpose. And the people who saw the hand and the long arm attached to it screamed.
Time for my weekly exercises again. These short little pieces of flash fiction are part practice of my craft, part chance to get some feedback on my work, and part shameless marketing ploy to get you to take an interest in my work. Remember, feedback is important, positive or negative, so whatever you think, please let me know if you like what you read.
Today’s exercise features a favorite of mine: the evil doll. Hope it chills you to the bone.
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Danny had never been allowed in Grandmother’s room in his eight short years, but he supposed nobody would care since Grandmother was now dead. He walked around the room, staring at all the old photos and the ancient furniture. The room had a strange smell, the smell of forgotten things and things that had seen their day years ago. At the foot of Grandmother’s bed was a large wooden crate with big, metal clasps and a sign that said NEVER OPEN. Curious, Danny undid the clasps, opened up the crate, and looked inside.
Lying on the floor of the crate was a doll in a blue sailor’s dress. It was the same size as Danny, with long red hair and pale skin that looked so real Danny at first thought it was a real girl. He reached down to pick the doll up, but then it suddenly stood up on its own and threw its arms around Danny in a big bear hug. The doll whispered in his ear, “Play with me forever or I’ll kill you.”
Rami Ungar The Writer 