...the last one kills.

"October in the Chair" by Neil Gaiman

2010-01-07T11:16:00.000-08:00

For today's post, I will be dipping into a very nice anthology of short stories called Poe's Children - The New Horror. This collection is edited by Peter Straub, and I will be looking at a story by one of my favorite authors, Neil Gaiman.

My thoughts on "October in the Chair" by Neil Gaiman.

I felt like this story would be a real treat when right below the title it said "for Ray Bradbury". Quite simply, a nod from one of the current greats to one of the all-time greats.

One of the things that made Bradbury great was his ability to describe things so that the reader could feel them, taste them. Gaiman does this also in "October in the Chair", surely intentional. The tale is about the months having their monthly meeting, where they gather round and tell stories. It must be October in this story, because he is in the chair.

When October tells his story, it is of a boy who runs away from a cruel home, and finds a friend in a most unlikely place. The boy knows that if he were to keep on running, he would eventually get caught and be in some trouble. He longs to have a friend, and enjoy his childhood rather than live in fear. Gaiman, like Bradbury often did, does a masterful job at capturing the nostalgia and longing of being a child.

The boy meets another boy, Dearly, and they have a great time playing together. In the end, the boy makes a choice that will change his life forever.

Memorable quote: "I used to have another name, but I can't read it anymore."

"The Cat From Hell" by Stephen King

2010-01-04T11:40:00.000-08:00

The birth of my blog is shaping up to be very Stephen King heavy. In case your wondering why, the main reason is that I received Just After Sunset as a Christmas gift. Also, King happens to be one of the best writers (or at least most read) of our day.

One thing is for certain, I hate cats. That is why I have chosen my next short story to be "The Cat From Hell", found in Stephen King's latest short story collection Just After Sunset.

My thoughts on "The Cat From Hell" by Stephen King.

In this story, a hitman is hired to kill a cat. The idea sounds silly, true, but this cat has led an old man to believe that it is in fact a hellcat, with the intention of killing him. The hitman is supposed to finish the cat off before it can get to the old man. I cannot say much more about this story (as it is a short one) without giving anything away, but I did not like cats before I read this story, and after reading it my feelings have not changed.

Not one bit.

Memorable quote: "The cat purred in his ear like thunder."

"Stationary Bike" by Stephen King

2010-01-03T18:57:00.000-08:00

Just came home from watching Sherlock Holmes. Pretty good flick.

My thoughts on "Stationary Bike" by Stephen King. This story can be found in his latest collection Just After Sunset.

"Stationary Bike" starts out normal enough, with a man named Richard getting a lecture from his doctor about proper health. Richard has let his cholesterol get out of control, and the doctor is letting him know it.

Soon after, Richard (who is a freelance artist by trade) begins a painting based upon an analogy the doctor had given him regarding the body's metabolism as a "work crew". The painting begins to consume Richard, and an odd obsession begins. He buys a stationary bike and places it in the basement, and his obsession grows.

Richard paints the road that he imagines himself riding on his bike onto the basement wall, and as the days go by his fantasy deepens. He paints deer on the wall one day, and rides his bike around a bend and comes across a herd of deer. He paints some littered beer cans on the side of the road the next day, and mentally scolds his "work crew" for missing them.

Then things get strange. The beer cans are gone the next day.

Is Richard alone on the road? Is the road only an obsession within Richard's mind, or has the road itself become real? Will Richard's newfound dedication to exercise save his life, or will it lead to his death?

You will have to read the story to find out. The ending may surprise you.

Memorable quote: "It was a beautiful evening for a ride in the woods."

"These Things We Have Always Known" by Lynda E. Rucker

2010-01-03T08:54:00.000-08:00

Good morning to all, and if you are wondering why I have composed my first morning post then let me tell you that I had not planned this. Originally, my plan for today was to get up and have some coffee, then throw on my snow clothes and spend a day with friends sledding on innertubes at a nearby snow park.

My friends, however, bailed out. So here I am, fully awake and with The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror 20 on the desk in front of me. I scanned through the story titles, and though there were a handful of writers that I recognized, the majority of the names were strangers to me. Lynda E. Rucker was one of those strange names. I chose to read this story because I like mysterious titles like "These Things We Have Always Known", and because she spells her name with a "y" instead of an "i".

Hey, we all have our reasons.

And so, my thoughts on "These Things We Have Always Known" by Lynda E. Rucker, a story that can be found in The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror 20.

I was not disappointed by my first foray into the mind of Lynda E. Rucker. This story is about a strange town, that has a secret. What the secret is exactly, now that is a question. The residents of Cold Rest have always been a bit strange, and dreamed dreams that others could never imagine. There is a mine that brings up unknown things, and a presence that fills the people with a foreboding sense of what is to come.

Wooden carvings come to life.

Words look unlike any real words.

Poems are hidden away, because of the things they contain.

Lynda E. Rucker did a wonderful job at giving me a sense of her small town. I myself spent a good portion of my childhood days in a one street town, and while I read this story I felt a connection between that town of mine and hers of Cold Rest. When you live in a place like that, you wait for something to happen. For most of us, nothing ever does.

In Cold Rest, nobody knows what is to come, not really. But we find out this time, we sure do find out.

Memorable quote: "We have always known in Cold Rest that we were waiting on something."

"It Runs Beneath the Surface" by Simon Strantzas

2010-01-02T19:27:00.000-08:00

This post is going to be a review of Simon Strantzas' story It Runs Beneath the Surface, which can be found in The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror 20. If you read my introductory post, you will remember that I mentioned an encounter with a bonafide published author. That author was Mr. Simon Strantzas, who essentially called me out for the review I had given for his story The Other Village, which can be found in The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror 19.

For the record, Simon Strantzas was perfectly right in questioning my review. I had written a sloppy analysis, and after I shelved my initial ire at being challenged, I realized that if I were to journey down the path of story review I should at least pay the respect of giving a thourough read.

Eventually, I will go back and re-review The Other Village, but not tonight.

Instead, here are my thoughts on It Runs Beneath the Surface, by Simon Strantzas.

I had only read two stories by Simon Strantzas before reading this one, but I am becoming more and more of a fan. Strantzas is skilled at painting a dark and bleak portrait, and those talents are on display again here. This story, concerning a man named Philip, left me mildly depressed.

On the surface (wordplay?), this tale seems to be about a man who has a gloomy job and travels a sad subway route through a dismal city. The story itself is not long, which makes it even more impressive that Strantzas was able to leave me with a cloud of sadness as I read the last line. I feel that this story was not at all about the man and his subway, but about all of us as we journey through life, fighting off all of the "shadowy" things and trying to stay afloat in the sea of uncertainty that life is.

Sometimes we win, and in those times the world seems bright and full of promise. But sometimes the shadows win, and what happens then? Do we fade away, or does some part of us forever linger on?

Memorable quote: "Just above the reddish stubble that outlined his cheeckbone he found the mark."

I wanted to put the last line of the story as the memorable quote, but that would just ruin it, now wouldn't it?

If you read this story, and want to know more about Simon Strantzas, go to www.strantzas.com and check out his blog.

"Rest Stop" by Stephen King

2010-01-01T20:46:00.000-08:00

I figure we may as well start with a story by one of, if not the, best horror writers of the modern day and age. For Christmas, I received a paperback copy of Stephen King's Just After Sunset and I have decided to crack it open for you tonight. No, this is not the first story in the book, and I realize that some of you short story lovers find it blasphemy to "bounce around"...but I think it's just fine.

Without further delay, my thoughts on "Rest Stop" by Stephen King.

This is a straightforward enough story about a writer (King seems to like writing about writers) who is pulling into a rest stop to relieve himself. The writer uses a pen name, and is questioning who exactly he is during the journey from his English professor life to his writer's retreat. Is he the meek teacher, or the daring and bold writer?

He has a chance to find out at the rest stop, where he happens upon a man (Lee) beating on a woman (Ellen) in the women's room. The story is short, so I cannot say much more without divulging what happens, but let's just say that our main man (Rick Hardin/John Dykstra) has a bit of a dilemma in deciding what to do.

Read the story, I doubt you will be disappointed with "who" takes charge.

Memorable quote: "Name, name, what's in a name?"

I have been here before.

2010-01-01T20:16:00.000-08:00

Some time back, I started a blog that was intended to discuss the things I have read. It was fun for some time, and I even enjoyed an encounter with one of the authors I had reviewed. This encounter, however, became a blessing and a curse. I was invigorated by the notice of a really-truly-published author, but at the same time felt an instant pressure to raise the bar with my subsequent reviews. I found myself paralyzed with each post I intended to make, staring at words that were no longer good enough to post because I felt like each post had to draw the attention of the author being analyzed.

The pressure, entirely crafted by my own wishes/demands/desires, had the worst effect possible on my blog.

It crushed my enthusiasm.

And so, with a New Year at hand (and a new decade at that), I have decided to once again try my hand at this blogging thing. I enjoy reading, I really enjoy short stories, and that is where we will start.

Let's hope for a bumpy ride, as the smooth ones are never memorable.