Horror Limericks

The horror genre lends itself to the setup-punchline structure of the limerick, so I wrote a few.

 

A young looking fellow from Leith
Had very sharp, shiny white teeth
You might get a fright
If you met him at night
And never again will you breathe.
A ragged wee laddie called Fed
Grew lesions that started to spread
His brain liquified
And poor Freddie died
So dead Fred’s head’s spread on Fred’s bed.
The ancient Old One called Cthulhu
Had slept for an eon or two
He woke up last year
Filled men’s hearts with fear
And caused quite a hullabaloo.
A sweet little girl from Dunoon
Grew fur and teeth every full moon
She woke up at dawn
Her family gone
Though bits of them round her were strewn.
A thin, starving flesh-eating ghoul
Picked up his wee brother from school
Then he started nibbling
His unfortunate sibling
Until he was happily full.
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Newest news.

Hi folks. I’ve not updated this much recently, but the latest things to happen are:

  1. I’ve just been podcasted on the greatest and most prestigious horror fiction podcast in the universe. Listen to it here.

http://pseudopod.org/2015/09/05/pseudopod-454-eastern-promise/

2. I’ve had another story accepted by http://lovecraftzine.com/. More details nearer the time.

3. I’ve been working on a short horror film that should be fit for public consumption in the next couple of weeks. Again, more details will become available in the fullness of time.

Apologies for neglecting blogland.

Book Review: Midway by Nathan Robinson

Midway cover

Sam Berlitz is a team member in an international swimming race across the Atlantic. He feels as though he’s been swimming for longer than his one-hour allocation and realises the boat with his teammates on it is gone.

Alone, afloat in the unforgiving ocean a thousand miles from land his mind starts to create monsters. Or maybe they’re not all in his mind.

Midway is part mystery thriller and part survival horror with a good dose of Lovecraftian weird thrown in. I won’t tell you how it all pans out but the stuff that actually happens is secondary to Sam’s emotional journey. It’s the loneliness, the lack of stimulus, his fear of the dark, sleep deprivation and the tricks his mind plays on him that make this a riveting read. The tension doesn’t let up from about three pages in till the very end. I was furious when I had to stop reading and go back to work.

As well as the anxiety over his almost certain impending death, he starts to dwell on his life and his relationships. He has a fiancée but is having sex with a teammate on the boat. He compares them with each other, with his parents and friends, and with his dog, trying to decide whom he’ll miss, and what he’ll do if he miraculously survives. It’s a touching moment when he realises that dying means he’ll never walk the dog again.

I had some quibbles with Robinson’s prose at the very beginning: there is some extraneous description that could be cut. But I honestly don’t know if it got better or if I was just too engrossed in the story to notice. The prose became invisible and only served the story – a sure sign of quality writing.

Get past the slightly over-written beginning and you’re in for a rare treat. highly recommended.

Metal and Boxing.

First click this link and listen to the song.  If you can’t stand it and switch off after a few seconds, then I wrote this post for you.  If you loved it and headbanged round your room, read on anyway.

The band is The Dillinger Escape Plan, the song Panasonic Youth, and it’s metal.  In fact it’s about as nasty as metal gets, sometimes almost wilfully unlistenable. The changes in time signature and tempo as well as tonality are confusing and make it almost impossible to just relax and enjoy it.  And the vocalist sounds like an ogre who’s lost his temper.

However, if you give it a chance and just roll with the awful racket that it initially seems to be, some snippets of beauty begin to appear, like bright little flowers growing on a bombsite.  Then listen again – those harmonies are not as random as they first seemed.  There are ideas here that have been used by acknowledged masters of music: Bela Bartock, Thelonius Monk, John Coltrane, Frank Zappa.  And there is structure – thematic development in an almost classical style, and all perfectly performed.  Once you get to know it, it’s as fine a song as any you’ll hear from a rock band.

What I’m saying is that it takes more effort and commitment to find the enjoyment in music like this, but don’t feel I’m judging you if didn’t like it.  I have no right to feel superior, mainly because I don’t like boxing.

I’m sure that if I took the time and trouble to study it, boxing has as much subtlety, finesse, technique and tactical mindplay as any other sport.  Boxers are athletes, and the strongest combatant doesn’t automatically win, yet I have never enjoyed it.  At its heart, boxing is two men (usually), each trying to hit the other hard enough to knock him down or make him lose consciousness.  It seems barbaric and anachronistic in modern society.  I have never managed to see past the brutality of it and find the elegance and beauty that undoubtedly lies behind it.

If lots of people view more extreme or difficult styles of music the same way, seeing only the brutality and not the underlying beauty, who am I to judge?

There is a more general point to be made about genres and personal taste.  I continually judge books by their covers, movies by their posters, music by the look of the artistes.  This seems shallow, but there is no time to read every book, watch every movie and listen to every album, so we have to make quick choices.

If I see a band comprising four pretty teenage boys who look as though they spend more time with a stylist than with their vocal coach, I probably won’t take the trouble to listen to the music.  If a new book appears on the horror shelf and it’s called Dead Sexy and has a picture of a blood-stained apple on the cover, I won’t read it.  I’m sure I’m missing out on some great stuff, but I know I’m saving a lot of time that might have been wasted on things I won’t enjoy.

So you’re allowed to see only the ugliness in my tastes in music, film and fiction – I don’t mind.  I have to respect your choices and your taste, so long as you don’t make me watch a boxing match.