Following yesterday's announcement, Paige Lehnert at Xulon Press interviewed me and wrote up a nice little article about my move from self-publishing to Realms Fiction. Check it out!
http://www.xulonpress.com/blog/?p=217
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
It's Official: "The Coming Evil" coming soon from Realms Fiction
I told you I had big news.
It's been many months in the making, but I'm proud to finally announce that, yes, "The Coming Evil" has a new home and it is Realms Fiction! Realms is an imprint of Strang Communications and, I'd say, specializes in Christian "supernatural thrillers", so I think that "The Coming Evil" will be a great fit. We're still early in the process, so I can't even begin to guess when the book will be hitting shelves (that's right: hitting shelves!), but I will be sure to keep you posted.
As I've stated before, this will be the "Expanded Edition" of the novel--it's longer, introduces some characters you'll be seeing more of throughout the remainder of the trilogy, and will have the added bonus of having a professional editor go through and improve the writing :p If you own a Xulon Edition already, then consider yourselves one of the "lucky few". The book is now out-of-print and there are only a limited supply left in circulation.
I've already had some who purchased the original Xulon Edition of the book express their worry that their version is now "obsolete". I have tried very hard to include things in the new edition without fundamentally changing it. That is to say, that, if you already own a Xulon Edition of Book One and want to jump right into the Realms Edition of Book Two when it comes out, no, you won't be horribly lost. Everything plays out the same, there's just more. More monsters, more Dras being goofy, more Jeff and Isabella, and a much bigger role for Jack Weldon. I hope that Xulon Edition-holders will go out and buy one of the new editions when it's available. I think you'll be really pleased with the additions.
Well. There it is. My big announcement. It has been over a decade in getting to this point and I know that the work's not over yet. But, I wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who's supported "The Coming Evil" over the years. I also have to stop and give credit to God. In my heart, I always knew that "The Coming Evil" would see the light of day, but in my head I often lost hope. But I stayed the course and held the faith and God, in His good timing, seems to have finally brought those monster-filled dreams to reality.
Stay tuned!
-Greg
It's been many months in the making, but I'm proud to finally announce that, yes, "The Coming Evil" has a new home and it is Realms Fiction! Realms is an imprint of Strang Communications and, I'd say, specializes in Christian "supernatural thrillers", so I think that "The Coming Evil" will be a great fit. We're still early in the process, so I can't even begin to guess when the book will be hitting shelves (that's right: hitting shelves!), but I will be sure to keep you posted.
As I've stated before, this will be the "Expanded Edition" of the novel--it's longer, introduces some characters you'll be seeing more of throughout the remainder of the trilogy, and will have the added bonus of having a professional editor go through and improve the writing :p If you own a Xulon Edition already, then consider yourselves one of the "lucky few". The book is now out-of-print and there are only a limited supply left in circulation.
I've already had some who purchased the original Xulon Edition of the book express their worry that their version is now "obsolete". I have tried very hard to include things in the new edition without fundamentally changing it. That is to say, that, if you already own a Xulon Edition of Book One and want to jump right into the Realms Edition of Book Two when it comes out, no, you won't be horribly lost. Everything plays out the same, there's just more. More monsters, more Dras being goofy, more Jeff and Isabella, and a much bigger role for Jack Weldon. I hope that Xulon Edition-holders will go out and buy one of the new editions when it's available. I think you'll be really pleased with the additions.
Well. There it is. My big announcement. It has been over a decade in getting to this point and I know that the work's not over yet. But, I wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who's supported "The Coming Evil" over the years. I also have to stop and give credit to God. In my heart, I always knew that "The Coming Evil" would see the light of day, but in my head I often lost hope. But I stayed the course and held the faith and God, in His good timing, seems to have finally brought those monster-filled dreams to reality.
Stay tuned!
-Greg
Monday, February 15, 2010
I just read "The Muse" by Fred Warren!
Wow, it's been awhile since I've posted.
I have been super busy on "The Coming Evil"-related things (among other writing projects) for the past few months. In fact, I have some pretty big news forthcoming, but am not ready to make the announcement just yet. In the meantime, I've been catching up on my reading and have just finished fellow Lost Genre Guild member, Fred Warren's, novel "The Muse".
"The Muse" (published by Splashdown Books) is the tale of a struggling fantasy writer named Stan. He's got his writer group friends--a sci-fi technophile named Davos and a paranormal romance vamp-fan named Jilly. The three meet at their local coffee shop/bookstore and discuss the all-too-familiar woes of trying to break into the market. It seems that their luck has finally turned for the better when a new face shows up to their meetings--the mousy Leila. Leila gives them the inspiration they need to get past their writer's block and begin to make waves in the publishing world, but not without a price: Their eternal soul! (or, you know, something like that)
This book was a lot of fun. It was deftly written, with a solid voice and grasp of language. It was descriptive without getting bogged down in endless detail, and it moved at a pretty good clip. It was pretty easy to read, really. I'm naturally a slow reader (a bad trait for a writer, I suppose), but I found myself cutting through 60 pages of "The Muse" in my initial sit down, without realizing the time.
While it does sport a good twist or two, the plot isn't terribly original, I'll grant you. It's a very traditional story with all the beats you'd come to expect, but I think that, to some audiences that could prove to be its advantage. I'm not sure if this was the intent or not, but I think this novel would make a great Young Adult read. With its simple lessons of bravery, friendship, trust, and the value of taking the hard-earned road over the "easy way", I think this is a great book for a family to share. The characters are very innocent and uncomplicated. This is kind of a two-sided coin as, while their honesty and integrity is refreshing, the fact that they genuinely use words such as "fiddlesticks" and "fooy" as a curse, I suppose it could either come off as pleasantly quirky or groan-inducing cheesy. But, the characters are certainly likable and easy to relate to and, even though I had a pretty good idea how everything was going to play out (and I was right), I still cared enough about the characters that I wanted to take that journey with them, nonetheless. There were a couple points in the book where I felt that Mr. Warren could have delved deeper into some darker, more complex emotions--but that's really not this book. It really reads like an "all ages" PG family movie--something bright and life affirming and fun.
The only thing I'd complain about the book is that, once the action started rolling, it was over! The characters seem to take a long time to realize that "mousy" Leila is actually "I will swallow your soul" Leila--with a lot of talking things out amongst themselves that are painfully obvious to the reader. But, once they're all on board with the "fighting evil" spirit that I love so much, it moves by too fast. I would have liked to have seen more of the "epic battle of good and evil" that makes up the last third of the book. Many characters were introduced towards the end that were interesting in their own right, and I felt as though I'd missed out on meeting them earlier. I'm the first to admit that I am NOT a fantasy fan. I like my werewolves and my monster hunters and my Great Old Ones. But this is the kind of fantasy I like--Tolkien with a modern day twist--with a unique way of taking the mundane and catapulting it into the fantastic. All in all, I found myself entertained and definitely think that this book will resonate with all those underground speculative fiction writers out there struggling to get their voice heard.
Be sure to check out Fred's site over at http://frederation.wordpress.com/!
I have been super busy on "The Coming Evil"-related things (among other writing projects) for the past few months. In fact, I have some pretty big news forthcoming, but am not ready to make the announcement just yet. In the meantime, I've been catching up on my reading and have just finished fellow Lost Genre Guild member, Fred Warren's, novel "The Muse".
"The Muse" (published by Splashdown Books) is the tale of a struggling fantasy writer named Stan. He's got his writer group friends--a sci-fi technophile named Davos and a paranormal romance vamp-fan named Jilly. The three meet at their local coffee shop/bookstore and discuss the all-too-familiar woes of trying to break into the market. It seems that their luck has finally turned for the better when a new face shows up to their meetings--the mousy Leila. Leila gives them the inspiration they need to get past their writer's block and begin to make waves in the publishing world, but not without a price: Their eternal soul! (or, you know, something like that)
This book was a lot of fun. It was deftly written, with a solid voice and grasp of language. It was descriptive without getting bogged down in endless detail, and it moved at a pretty good clip. It was pretty easy to read, really. I'm naturally a slow reader (a bad trait for a writer, I suppose), but I found myself cutting through 60 pages of "The Muse" in my initial sit down, without realizing the time.
While it does sport a good twist or two, the plot isn't terribly original, I'll grant you. It's a very traditional story with all the beats you'd come to expect, but I think that, to some audiences that could prove to be its advantage. I'm not sure if this was the intent or not, but I think this novel would make a great Young Adult read. With its simple lessons of bravery, friendship, trust, and the value of taking the hard-earned road over the "easy way", I think this is a great book for a family to share. The characters are very innocent and uncomplicated. This is kind of a two-sided coin as, while their honesty and integrity is refreshing, the fact that they genuinely use words such as "fiddlesticks" and "fooy" as a curse, I suppose it could either come off as pleasantly quirky or groan-inducing cheesy. But, the characters are certainly likable and easy to relate to and, even though I had a pretty good idea how everything was going to play out (and I was right), I still cared enough about the characters that I wanted to take that journey with them, nonetheless. There were a couple points in the book where I felt that Mr. Warren could have delved deeper into some darker, more complex emotions--but that's really not this book. It really reads like an "all ages" PG family movie--something bright and life affirming and fun.
The only thing I'd complain about the book is that, once the action started rolling, it was over! The characters seem to take a long time to realize that "mousy" Leila is actually "I will swallow your soul" Leila--with a lot of talking things out amongst themselves that are painfully obvious to the reader. But, once they're all on board with the "fighting evil" spirit that I love so much, it moves by too fast. I would have liked to have seen more of the "epic battle of good and evil" that makes up the last third of the book. Many characters were introduced towards the end that were interesting in their own right, and I felt as though I'd missed out on meeting them earlier. I'm the first to admit that I am NOT a fantasy fan. I like my werewolves and my monster hunters and my Great Old Ones. But this is the kind of fantasy I like--Tolkien with a modern day twist--with a unique way of taking the mundane and catapulting it into the fantastic. All in all, I found myself entertained and definitely think that this book will resonate with all those underground speculative fiction writers out there struggling to get their voice heard.
Be sure to check out Fred's site over at http://frederation.wordpress.com/!
Sunday, December 6, 2009
"Halloween: White Ghost" - The Story Behind the Story
Better late than never!
It’s been nearly a year since my first foray into official Halloween fiction—“White Ghost”—was published and I had always intended to sit down and write end notes for the thing. As a fan, I’m always fascinated to hear the “behind the scenes” stuff of the creative process so, just in case there’s anyone out there like me, I thought I’d sit down and share a few thoughts on the creation of “White Ghost”.
The first surprising fact that you will learn is that “White Ghost” was not my idea originally! That honor belongs to the head of the Halloween Comics beast, Stef Hutchinson. It’s ironic, because he came up with “White Ghost” and I came up with the idea of the movies Halloween 4-6 (which had been “retconned” out of the main Halloween continuity by Halloween H20) being a series of in-universe comics as written and drawn by an older and traumatized Tommy Doyle. Stef ended up alluding to the Tommy Doyle idea in his 30 Years of Terror comic anthology, and now I've brought one of Stef’s ideas to fruition.
Back when Stef first approached me to work on the Halloween Comics team, we talked a lot on the phone about the mythology and all the stories he had in mind. “White Ghost” was one of the earliest ideas he’d shared with me. The concept of doing a story about the tow truck driver who lost his life (and his clothes) to Michael Myers was especially exciting to me. Watching the Halloween movies, I’d always taken a shine to those minor characters in the background and always fleshed out their personal stories in my head. But, believe it or not, I had never given a second thought to that mustachioed naked dude lying in the bushes.
Originally, Stef intended “White Ghost” to be a short comic and include it in an anthology. When time rolled around to do that anthology—what became Halloween 30 Years of Terror—“White Ghost” was not included for whatever reason, and he offered me a chance to write a prose version of the story. He gave me his outline, which really just consisted of “Guy loses his would-be bride because of drunken infidelity at the Red Rabbit Lounge. She gets hit by train. He returns years later a broken mess. Michael Myers kills him.” Stef wanted the story to feel like a real ghost story, but with the twist that it wasn’t. I liked that idea. I ran with it.
One of the things I believe was in the initial draft was that the story would begin with Dr. Sam Loomis at Smith’s Grove at the time of Michael’s escape (as seen in the first film). That was to give the audience a sense of setting and bring them back to the first movie. I really jumped at the chance to write Loomis and Nurse Marion. One of the things I always enjoyed about Stef’s Halloween work is the camaraderie that developed between those two characters over their years together, so I extended a lot of the Loomis stuff—even cutting back to it—in order to write a kind of prequel to that relationship. I wrote Marion as practical as a counter-balance to Loomis’ driving obsession. Marion stops to consider the people, while Loomis is always focused on following the monster. I think that, together, they make a good team.
Also, in these scenes, I introduced Reverend Jackson P. Sayer of Dumont County.
Let me tell you, I love Halloween 4. It killed me when we were told that Part 4 was no longer canon because I have always had aspirations of writing the demon-hunting adventures of Reverend Sayer. Now with the idea of Halloween 4 being a comic that Tommy wrote, another idea blossomed that—in sort of a Shakespeare in Love concept—Tommy created these characters based on real people he’d met in his life. So, I decided to make the “real” version of Sayer. Now you ask yourself, “Well, when did Tommy meet him?” There’s a story for that. I hope to one day tell it.
Writing Sayer was a highlight, and I wanted to recreate that relationship that he had with Loomis from the fourth movie. Sayer is nuts, but he’s also right about the nature of Michael Myers’ evil. Loomis recognizes that.
I wrote the Loomis scenes in more of a classic horror movie motif, because that’s how his scenes were in the original film. The “baby-sitter scenes” with Laurie and her friends were an entirely different tone than the Loomis scenes. Whenever Loomis entered the picture, we were back in Hammer Horror Film mode; when we cut to Laurie, it was more slice of life character drama. I tried to keep that pace for “White Ghost”.
The character of Chris Hastings was actually born out of necessity. I had Stef’s original outline, so I knew the guy cheated on his girlfriend in a moment of drunken stupidity, and it ruined his life. However, Chris’ name, his age, the town where he lives, and the fact that he had a wife and daughter were revealed in his obituary in the Articles section on the Halloween Comics website. The writing duties on the in-universe newspaper articles were split between myself and Myron James. I didn’t write that article, so I’m assuming Myron did. Also, there was more information about where Chris’ body was found, and the state it was in, on the form for his morgue report—which I believe was written by me and Steve Cattaruzza, our awesome editor. So, I had all these separate facts about this guy and it was my job to bring them all together to make a unified character.
Stef likes his tragedy. If you’ve read any of his Halloween comics, you’ll know this. I, however, have a hard time with such a bleak outlook on life. I was also a pretty new father to a baby girl at the time of writing this story and the thought of a man dying and leaving behind his baby girl was especially painful to me. So, a coping mechanism was to write Chris as a complete scumbag :) My idea was that, his previous wrecked romance left him a shell of a man, unable to meet the emotional expectations of his wife and child. In some strange way, him dying at the end was almost liberating to his family. I tried to write Chris the exact opposite from me. First off, he doesn’t love his daughter. That seemed absolutely alien to me, so I really stretched myself to put myself in a guy’s head who looks at his kid as a screaming mouth to feed that he never wanted. Also, I made his wife super bossy. People who have read the story have commented on how evil this woman must be, but I think she’s just appears evil to a lazy husband who doesn’t want anything to do with his family. True, she’s demanding, but I think, to her credit, a lot of that developed out of having a husband who was emotionally absent and content to sit and drink beer all the time. There’s always two sides to the story in those situations. We’re telling the story from Chris’ side, so his wife is extra monstrous and fire-breathing.
What’s really interesting is that, despite this man’s flaws—and I packed as many as I could—I found myself feeling for the guy as I wrote his story. It’s especially interesting that others who have read “White Ghost” have sided with Chris. Understand, I intended him to be a jerk who had a grisly, impersonal death coming. But, people have taken to Chris. Some even identify with him. He sees his life as a failure of his own making. He’s sympathetic. We all make mistakes and we all live with consequences, and we can either choose to learn from them and grow as people, or we can be like Chris and dwell on the past and never move on.
When it came to Chris’ doomed romance, I tried to show the softer side of Mr. Hastings. He really loved Sylvia. He was a better person with her around. I imagine that if he’d had a kid with Sylvia, that baby would have been his pride and joy. He had the shot at a great life, but he blew it.
Enter: Jenny Reeves. Jenny is one of the River Folk from the Lost River. As part of my job at Halloween Comics.com, I wrote detailed histories on Haddonfield, its more famous locations, and the Lost River (that was mentioned in Halloween II). I practically created an entire world revolving around the Lost River and its backwoods denizens. Sadly, no one has ever seen this material because it’s yet to be published to the site (write letters *hinthint* :)), but I have since tried to make some connection to the Lost River in all of my Halloween work. Sort of a mythology-within-a-mythology. Will Jenny pop up, as some have asked? I don’t know. But, as long as I’m writing Halloween, I hope to keep taking readers back to the Lost River.
Sylvia finds out and I get to write the traumatic break-up scene. Next, it was time for bloody death-by-train. Stef stepped in and added a little gory detail to the incident, which I think gave it a nice flourish. I really liked this scene. I felt bad for Chris here.
Years later, Chris returns to the scene where his life ended only to have…well, his life ended. Michael shows up, in his flowy white hospital gown, and a drunken Chris thinks it’s his one true love come to offer him forgiveness. Chris joins Sylvia in death, his wife and child potentially move on to a man who will love them and care for them, and Myers has a new pair of slightly used coveralls. Everybody’s happy. See? No tragedy here :p
These days, Halloween Comics are sitting on the back burner for varied business reasons that I am neither totally privy to, nor able to divulge. I’m not sure what the future holds, or if my other work beyond “White Ghost” will ever make it to the surface. But, if “White Ghost” is my only Halloween story, it’s one I’m quite proud of. I think that it encapsulates what I’m about as a “tie-in” writer—it takes a no-nothing character that spends but scant seconds on screen and (I hope) develops them into a real, breathing person that people can be invested in. To those of you who’ve read it and enjoyed it, thanks for the kind words you’ve given me. If you haven’t read it, what’s your problem?
RANDOM BITS OF TRIVIA:
—My friend Thomas Mason did the cover. He was the colorist on WildStorm’s first Freddy vs. Jason vs. Ash comic and, these days, has had an impressive run on Marvel’s Cable. Check him out on his website at www.areumental.com. He does commissions!
—Page 5. Nurse Ethel Strickland is intended to be the red-headed nurse that shows Loomis to Michael’s trashed room in the television edit of Halloween. I’m a huge fan of the bonus TV scenes of Halloween. Some would say it slows down the narrative—and it does—but it adds more detail to the world and I’m a sucker for that stuff. To the best of my knowledge, this is the first time elements from the TV edit have been brought into canon proper. Some of you are going to ask “Is the TV edit canon, then?” Well, personally, I think it is. Regardless if you watch that version or prefer that version, I believe those things happened—off camera if you stick to the theatrical cut, on camera if you watch the TV edit.
—Page 6. “Bernardi” is the guard mentioned in that same scene in the TV edit.
—Page 6. Reverend Jackson Sayer, people. I love that guy. Also, everyone refers to him as “Mr. Sayer”, just as Loomis did in Halloween 4.
—Page 7. Loomis’ metal lighter that no longer works was first introduced in the online short story “Sam”, I believe. Written by Stef. If you know nothing of this story, it’s the last adventure of Sam Loomis. You should read it.
—Page 8. Loomis’ exchange with Sayer about Damnation being among us (“Yes, Mr. Sayer. I’m afraid he is.”), was meant to echo Loomis’ words (though not exact, but in spirit) to Laurie at the end of the first movie.
—Page 9. Nichols Hardware Store versus Stoddard’s Hardware Store. This is actually a retcon. In Halloween, the hardware store is Nichols. In the novelization for Halloween II, a cop mentions Stoddard’s Hardware Store. The idea was that, only in recent years did the name change from Stoddard’s to Nichols and some folks in Haddonfield still think of it as Stoddard’s. I wrote quite a bit about the history of the hardware store in one of those Locations pieces that still hasn’t made it to the public yet.
—Page 14. The first mention of the “River Folk”, though like I said, not the first thing I’d written about them. The Locations pieces I wrote delve into their history and their relationship to Haddonfield. Mostly, I wanted to make backwoods folk. Like Pumpkinhead or some of Lovecraft’s writings. Just this secretive, mysterious group of country people who live out along the River. I love driving out in the country and I see all these dilapidated country houses that look really creepy. I always wonder what kind of people live there. The River Folk is a romanticized, “typical horror” version of that.
—Page 14. The Red Rabbit Lounge is, of course, the name on the pack of matches that Marion kept with her in the first movie. It’s in the car when Myers takes it from her and it’s left behind at Chris’ murder scene. It’s the breadcrumb on the trail. So, the place where Chris ruins his life is tied to the scene of his death. Make of that what you will.
—Page 19. Wynn’s lost a patient apart from Michael Myers. Sounds interesting, doesn’t it? I believe Stef has some things planned for this escapee (that you may or may not have met already).
—Page 19. The last scene with Loomis is Chris’ “big appearance” in the movie where Loomis comes across the empty truck and Myers’ discarded gown. In the movie, the scene plays out with Loomis on the phone to Haddonfield, he hangs up frustrated, then heads to the truck. This scene is meant to be a sort of prequel to that scene—before his phone call.
—Page 20. “So, you’ve shed one skin, Michael. What form will you take now? What will you dress up for as Halloween?” I don’t think I have to explain to you the giddy thrill I experienced writing words that Donald Pleasance might form in his mind or say. That was awesome. He’s still missed.
Thanks for reading :)
It’s been nearly a year since my first foray into official Halloween fiction—“White Ghost”—was published and I had always intended to sit down and write end notes for the thing. As a fan, I’m always fascinated to hear the “behind the scenes” stuff of the creative process so, just in case there’s anyone out there like me, I thought I’d sit down and share a few thoughts on the creation of “White Ghost”.
The first surprising fact that you will learn is that “White Ghost” was not my idea originally! That honor belongs to the head of the Halloween Comics beast, Stef Hutchinson. It’s ironic, because he came up with “White Ghost” and I came up with the idea of the movies Halloween 4-6 (which had been “retconned” out of the main Halloween continuity by Halloween H20) being a series of in-universe comics as written and drawn by an older and traumatized Tommy Doyle. Stef ended up alluding to the Tommy Doyle idea in his 30 Years of Terror comic anthology, and now I've brought one of Stef’s ideas to fruition.
Back when Stef first approached me to work on the Halloween Comics team, we talked a lot on the phone about the mythology and all the stories he had in mind. “White Ghost” was one of the earliest ideas he’d shared with me. The concept of doing a story about the tow truck driver who lost his life (and his clothes) to Michael Myers was especially exciting to me. Watching the Halloween movies, I’d always taken a shine to those minor characters in the background and always fleshed out their personal stories in my head. But, believe it or not, I had never given a second thought to that mustachioed naked dude lying in the bushes.
Originally, Stef intended “White Ghost” to be a short comic and include it in an anthology. When time rolled around to do that anthology—what became Halloween 30 Years of Terror—“White Ghost” was not included for whatever reason, and he offered me a chance to write a prose version of the story. He gave me his outline, which really just consisted of “Guy loses his would-be bride because of drunken infidelity at the Red Rabbit Lounge. She gets hit by train. He returns years later a broken mess. Michael Myers kills him.” Stef wanted the story to feel like a real ghost story, but with the twist that it wasn’t. I liked that idea. I ran with it.
One of the things I believe was in the initial draft was that the story would begin with Dr. Sam Loomis at Smith’s Grove at the time of Michael’s escape (as seen in the first film). That was to give the audience a sense of setting and bring them back to the first movie. I really jumped at the chance to write Loomis and Nurse Marion. One of the things I always enjoyed about Stef’s Halloween work is the camaraderie that developed between those two characters over their years together, so I extended a lot of the Loomis stuff—even cutting back to it—in order to write a kind of prequel to that relationship. I wrote Marion as practical as a counter-balance to Loomis’ driving obsession. Marion stops to consider the people, while Loomis is always focused on following the monster. I think that, together, they make a good team.
Also, in these scenes, I introduced Reverend Jackson P. Sayer of Dumont County.
Let me tell you, I love Halloween 4. It killed me when we were told that Part 4 was no longer canon because I have always had aspirations of writing the demon-hunting adventures of Reverend Sayer. Now with the idea of Halloween 4 being a comic that Tommy wrote, another idea blossomed that—in sort of a Shakespeare in Love concept—Tommy created these characters based on real people he’d met in his life. So, I decided to make the “real” version of Sayer. Now you ask yourself, “Well, when did Tommy meet him?” There’s a story for that. I hope to one day tell it.
Writing Sayer was a highlight, and I wanted to recreate that relationship that he had with Loomis from the fourth movie. Sayer is nuts, but he’s also right about the nature of Michael Myers’ evil. Loomis recognizes that.
I wrote the Loomis scenes in more of a classic horror movie motif, because that’s how his scenes were in the original film. The “baby-sitter scenes” with Laurie and her friends were an entirely different tone than the Loomis scenes. Whenever Loomis entered the picture, we were back in Hammer Horror Film mode; when we cut to Laurie, it was more slice of life character drama. I tried to keep that pace for “White Ghost”.
The character of Chris Hastings was actually born out of necessity. I had Stef’s original outline, so I knew the guy cheated on his girlfriend in a moment of drunken stupidity, and it ruined his life. However, Chris’ name, his age, the town where he lives, and the fact that he had a wife and daughter were revealed in his obituary in the Articles section on the Halloween Comics website. The writing duties on the in-universe newspaper articles were split between myself and Myron James. I didn’t write that article, so I’m assuming Myron did. Also, there was more information about where Chris’ body was found, and the state it was in, on the form for his morgue report—which I believe was written by me and Steve Cattaruzza, our awesome editor. So, I had all these separate facts about this guy and it was my job to bring them all together to make a unified character.
Stef likes his tragedy. If you’ve read any of his Halloween comics, you’ll know this. I, however, have a hard time with such a bleak outlook on life. I was also a pretty new father to a baby girl at the time of writing this story and the thought of a man dying and leaving behind his baby girl was especially painful to me. So, a coping mechanism was to write Chris as a complete scumbag :) My idea was that, his previous wrecked romance left him a shell of a man, unable to meet the emotional expectations of his wife and child. In some strange way, him dying at the end was almost liberating to his family. I tried to write Chris the exact opposite from me. First off, he doesn’t love his daughter. That seemed absolutely alien to me, so I really stretched myself to put myself in a guy’s head who looks at his kid as a screaming mouth to feed that he never wanted. Also, I made his wife super bossy. People who have read the story have commented on how evil this woman must be, but I think she’s just appears evil to a lazy husband who doesn’t want anything to do with his family. True, she’s demanding, but I think, to her credit, a lot of that developed out of having a husband who was emotionally absent and content to sit and drink beer all the time. There’s always two sides to the story in those situations. We’re telling the story from Chris’ side, so his wife is extra monstrous and fire-breathing.
What’s really interesting is that, despite this man’s flaws—and I packed as many as I could—I found myself feeling for the guy as I wrote his story. It’s especially interesting that others who have read “White Ghost” have sided with Chris. Understand, I intended him to be a jerk who had a grisly, impersonal death coming. But, people have taken to Chris. Some even identify with him. He sees his life as a failure of his own making. He’s sympathetic. We all make mistakes and we all live with consequences, and we can either choose to learn from them and grow as people, or we can be like Chris and dwell on the past and never move on.
When it came to Chris’ doomed romance, I tried to show the softer side of Mr. Hastings. He really loved Sylvia. He was a better person with her around. I imagine that if he’d had a kid with Sylvia, that baby would have been his pride and joy. He had the shot at a great life, but he blew it.
Enter: Jenny Reeves. Jenny is one of the River Folk from the Lost River. As part of my job at Halloween Comics.com, I wrote detailed histories on Haddonfield, its more famous locations, and the Lost River (that was mentioned in Halloween II). I practically created an entire world revolving around the Lost River and its backwoods denizens. Sadly, no one has ever seen this material because it’s yet to be published to the site (write letters *hinthint* :)), but I have since tried to make some connection to the Lost River in all of my Halloween work. Sort of a mythology-within-a-mythology. Will Jenny pop up, as some have asked? I don’t know. But, as long as I’m writing Halloween, I hope to keep taking readers back to the Lost River.
Sylvia finds out and I get to write the traumatic break-up scene. Next, it was time for bloody death-by-train. Stef stepped in and added a little gory detail to the incident, which I think gave it a nice flourish. I really liked this scene. I felt bad for Chris here.
Years later, Chris returns to the scene where his life ended only to have…well, his life ended. Michael shows up, in his flowy white hospital gown, and a drunken Chris thinks it’s his one true love come to offer him forgiveness. Chris joins Sylvia in death, his wife and child potentially move on to a man who will love them and care for them, and Myers has a new pair of slightly used coveralls. Everybody’s happy. See? No tragedy here :p
These days, Halloween Comics are sitting on the back burner for varied business reasons that I am neither totally privy to, nor able to divulge. I’m not sure what the future holds, or if my other work beyond “White Ghost” will ever make it to the surface. But, if “White Ghost” is my only Halloween story, it’s one I’m quite proud of. I think that it encapsulates what I’m about as a “tie-in” writer—it takes a no-nothing character that spends but scant seconds on screen and (I hope) develops them into a real, breathing person that people can be invested in. To those of you who’ve read it and enjoyed it, thanks for the kind words you’ve given me. If you haven’t read it, what’s your problem?
RANDOM BITS OF TRIVIA:
—My friend Thomas Mason did the cover. He was the colorist on WildStorm’s first Freddy vs. Jason vs. Ash comic and, these days, has had an impressive run on Marvel’s Cable. Check him out on his website at www.areumental.com. He does commissions!
—Page 5. Nurse Ethel Strickland is intended to be the red-headed nurse that shows Loomis to Michael’s trashed room in the television edit of Halloween. I’m a huge fan of the bonus TV scenes of Halloween. Some would say it slows down the narrative—and it does—but it adds more detail to the world and I’m a sucker for that stuff. To the best of my knowledge, this is the first time elements from the TV edit have been brought into canon proper. Some of you are going to ask “Is the TV edit canon, then?” Well, personally, I think it is. Regardless if you watch that version or prefer that version, I believe those things happened—off camera if you stick to the theatrical cut, on camera if you watch the TV edit.
—Page 6. “Bernardi” is the guard mentioned in that same scene in the TV edit.
—Page 6. Reverend Jackson Sayer, people. I love that guy. Also, everyone refers to him as “Mr. Sayer”, just as Loomis did in Halloween 4.
—Page 7. Loomis’ metal lighter that no longer works was first introduced in the online short story “Sam”, I believe. Written by Stef. If you know nothing of this story, it’s the last adventure of Sam Loomis. You should read it.
—Page 8. Loomis’ exchange with Sayer about Damnation being among us (“Yes, Mr. Sayer. I’m afraid he is.”), was meant to echo Loomis’ words (though not exact, but in spirit) to Laurie at the end of the first movie.
—Page 9. Nichols Hardware Store versus Stoddard’s Hardware Store. This is actually a retcon. In Halloween, the hardware store is Nichols. In the novelization for Halloween II, a cop mentions Stoddard’s Hardware Store. The idea was that, only in recent years did the name change from Stoddard’s to Nichols and some folks in Haddonfield still think of it as Stoddard’s. I wrote quite a bit about the history of the hardware store in one of those Locations pieces that still hasn’t made it to the public yet.
—Page 14. The first mention of the “River Folk”, though like I said, not the first thing I’d written about them. The Locations pieces I wrote delve into their history and their relationship to Haddonfield. Mostly, I wanted to make backwoods folk. Like Pumpkinhead or some of Lovecraft’s writings. Just this secretive, mysterious group of country people who live out along the River. I love driving out in the country and I see all these dilapidated country houses that look really creepy. I always wonder what kind of people live there. The River Folk is a romanticized, “typical horror” version of that.
—Page 14. The Red Rabbit Lounge is, of course, the name on the pack of matches that Marion kept with her in the first movie. It’s in the car when Myers takes it from her and it’s left behind at Chris’ murder scene. It’s the breadcrumb on the trail. So, the place where Chris ruins his life is tied to the scene of his death. Make of that what you will.
—Page 19. Wynn’s lost a patient apart from Michael Myers. Sounds interesting, doesn’t it? I believe Stef has some things planned for this escapee (that you may or may not have met already).
—Page 19. The last scene with Loomis is Chris’ “big appearance” in the movie where Loomis comes across the empty truck and Myers’ discarded gown. In the movie, the scene plays out with Loomis on the phone to Haddonfield, he hangs up frustrated, then heads to the truck. This scene is meant to be a sort of prequel to that scene—before his phone call.
—Page 20. “So, you’ve shed one skin, Michael. What form will you take now? What will you dress up for as Halloween?” I don’t think I have to explain to you the giddy thrill I experienced writing words that Donald Pleasance might form in his mind or say. That was awesome. He’s still missed.
Thanks for reading :)
Monday, November 2, 2009
I've Been Interviewed
If you head on over to the Lost Genre Guild Blog, you can read today's Member Spotlight--Me! Thanks to Grace Bridges and the Lost Genre Guild for their support and giving me a chance to get the word out :)
Friday, October 30, 2009
Just in time for Halloween--A new "The Coming Evil" short story!
Hey, folks! In honor of this spooky season, here's a special treat from Greensboro: A brand-new "The Coming Evil" short story for your reading pleasure. This is a fun little romp through the more lighthearted regions of "The Coming Evil" universe, though, in the town of Greensboro, even a simple thing like reading a bedtime story to a sick girl in bed can reveal something sinister... Now brace yourselves for the terrifying tale of...
Harvey the Grasshopper!!!
Happy Halloween :)
Historian’s Note: This story takes place approximately eight years before the events in “The Coming Evil, Book One: The Strange Man”.
“Tell me a story.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Dras Weldon sighed, his shoulders sagging. Though he was only fourteen, he felt like an overtired parent suffering a hyperactive child. “Just because,” he groaned.
“Please?” Annie Myers whined, throwing in a labored cough, just to remind him that she was sick.
Dras frowned, glaring at her. “I already played Barbies with you all day.”
“Tell me a story, and I’ll go right to sleep and you won’t have to worry about me anymore.”
The boy thought to suggest that Annie’s sister, Rosalyn, be subjugated to bedtime duty, but his best friend was busy washing the dishes from their makeshift dinner of Spaghetti-Os. With her mom away at an emergency PTA meeting tonight, flu-ridden little Annie had no one left to bother. Dras was over at the Myers’ house anyway, hanging with Rosalyn as he did most every night, and he had tried to do the decent thing by spending a little time with her six-year-old sister. Now his heroics threatened to be the undoing of his dignity.
At last, he relented, knowing it would mean a lot to Rosalyn. “Fine. What story?”
Annie scrunched up her face in little girl excitement and pointed to the dresser across the lamplit room. “That one!”
Dras sulked over to the book in question, snatched it up, and stared down the cover.
“It’s…” he studied harder, tilting the book from side to side, as if trying to decode an ancient text. The cover depicted a cheery-looking grasshopper—or cricket?—dressed to the nines in some sort of Victorian get-up, lounging about like Willy Wonka on the deck of an ornate pirate ship attached to a hot air balloon as it sailed over green fields. “Um…”
“It’s Harvey the Grasshopper and His Magical Dirigible!”
Dras dropped the book as though it had oozed grossness all over him and slowly craned his neck to regard the kid. “Say wha—?” He wasn’t even exactly sure how to say “dirigible”.
Annie snuggled up in her bed, pulling the covers tighter. “Harvey travels across the world, bringing good dreams to kids. Read it!”
Dras considered. He eyed the book again. “Riiiight.” I’ve got a reputation to think about, here, the boy complained to himself. He strained his ears toward the kitchen and, sadly, detected the clinking of dishes. Rosalyn was still slaving.
Go on, you lug. Just suck it up. No one has to know.
“Okay,” he blurted. Dras procured the book and sat on the edge of Annie’s bed, seeing her face light up with anticipation. He gulped once, ready to sacrifice his self-respect, but suddenly halted, a stroke of utter brilliance slapping his floppy blonde top. “Tell you what,” he began, grinning devilishly. “How about I tell you the real story of Harry—”
“Harvey.”
“—Harvey,” he rolled his eyes, “the Grasshopper. Would you like that?”
Annie squinted suspiciously, gauging the older boy. “Ooookay.”
Dras restrained a deliciously evil laugh. “See, they can’t print the real story about Harvey.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’d never sleep again!” Dras shouted. “That’s why not!”
“I don’t believe you,” Annie huffed, her body tensing.
Dras stood and moved toward the lamp, nearly singing conspiratorial notes. “Well, it’s your loss.”
“Wait!” Annie called. Then she grimaced. “Fine. What’s the real story?”
Dras kept his back to her. “You sure you wanna know?”
“I said ‘yes’, didn’t I?”
“Alright.” Dras shrugged, as though it were no big deal. “But I warned you.” Without provocation, the boy reached out and jerked the chain on the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
“Hey!” Annie protested.
A bright beam of flashlight luminescence split the evening gloom, aimed right at Dras’ face, twisting his smooth features into a horrible display of shadowed terror. He shouted, “Mwuahahaha!” and was swiftly met by a pillow to the face.
His expression fell as he retrieved Annie’s pillow for her. “Alright, alright. Enough funny business. Prepare to hear the truth that will forever shatter your young idealism.”
“Just make it good, Weldon,” she threatened.
Dras took his seat on the bed, held the flashlight under his chin, and began his tale.
* * *
To understand Harvey and his horrors, one must first uncover the macabre origins of grasshoppers.
Long ago, before Man spread his dominion over the Earth, the kingdom of fairies shepherded the All-Father’s Creation. The fair-folk cared for the animals, the plants, and each other, living in perfect harmony. But one fairy possessed special knowledge of future events, and he foretold of a coming day when Man would subjugate the fair-folk. This doomsaying fairy’s terrifying prophecies won him many followers who began to build an army to oppose the coming of Man. They journeyed into the shadow of the Earth and consulted the dark spirits who lost their foothold on the Earth when the All-Father spoke Light into existence. The fairy rebel struck a truce with the Dark, proposing an alliance to stomp out the race of Man, still in its infancy. The Great Rebel—as he became known in Old Legend—promised he would divide the Earth with the dark spirits, sharing the spoils of war. The spirits agreed to the proposal, all the time planning in their wicked hearts to turn on the Great Rebel and swallow the world in forever black night.
Together the Dark and the Great Rebel worked together, taking willing fairy warriors and...changing them. Soon, these fairies’ legs snapped and bent backwards, giving them incredible leaping abilities. Their slender, beautiful arms became serrated deadly weapons. A hard exoskeleton masked their once-fair faces, concealing them behind horrific visages of war. These poor creatures lost all ability to speak—to sing—only able to communicate by scraping together their claws in primal bloodlust. The Grasshopper was born. These elite warriors descended upon mankind but, despite their numbers, their diminutive size proved their downfall.
Man was simply too big.
The fairy kingdom soon fell, but the Dark, when they sought their revenge, discovered an unforeseen consequence of their allegiance with the fair-folk. The Great Rebel and his surviving followers were now more evil and powerful than even those ancient dark spirits. And the Great Rebel, or Harvey, as was his given name, demanded loyalty from the Dark and rebel fairy alike as he planned a future and final attack on Man...
* * *
“Are you making this up?” Annie groaned, crossing her arms. Her eyes wavered, though, revealing the tiniest bit of unease.
Catching on, Dras grinned. “Gettin’ scared, already? I haven’t even gotten to the bad part yet.”
Annie’s sassy attitude faltered, her eyes widening ever so slightly.
“We could always quit if you’re too scared,” Dras offered, just a hint of condescension in his voice.
“No,” Annie quickly replied. “Just…hurry up, okay?”
Dras’ lips parted and he sang, “Ooookaaaayyy...”
* * *
The first human to uncover the shocking truth of Harvey was a little girl named Francie Stephens. Francie and her brother Thomas, like many children, heard fantastical tales of a benevolent grasshopper in his magical dirigible, come to bring them sweet dreams. Harvey wrote those stories himself. It was all a part of his plan. In an effort to meet Harvey, Francie stayed up past her bedtime, hoping to catch a glimpse of the grasshopper. Sure enough, Francie heard the hiss of steam and mechanical grinding of tiny propellers over the evening breeze. Francie raced to her window and saw the floating ship journeying over the fields, headed her way. In glee, she hid under her covers, barely peeking out, as Harvey entered her open bedroom window.
Francie nearly squealed with delight as the smiling grasshopper in suit and top hat walked the deck and surveyed young Thomas sleeping below. Her eyes growing in pleasant astonishment, Francie watched as Harvey tapped a cane on the railing, and, with a wide, sweeping gesture, sprinkled magical golden dust over Thomas’ head. Francie wondered what wonderful dreams her brother must be having—
Until Thomas sat upright, stiff as a board. His eyes were glazed over, his small mouth open in a slack-jawed stupor. From his perch up above, Harvey cackled, shrill and tiny, as a horde of clicking insects exploded from every porthole of the magical airship, filling the room with buzzing. Francie gasped in horror, unable to look away.
The army of grasshoppers swarmed Thomas, seizing him by the pajamas and lifting him out of his bed, high into the air. Thomas did not kick or scream, just hung there helpless as a thousand grasshoppers flapped their miniscule wings and carried him out into the dark, windy night.
Francie wanted to scream, to chase after her brother, but she dared not move, fearful that she would be taken next. At least another thousand grasshoppers still hovered in her room. They charged the airship, disappearing inside, then re-emerged, carrying a small glowing pod.
Harvey danced on the deck, pumping his cane like the mad drum major of a parade straight from Hell. He pranced and giggled in mischievous glee, watching as his army slowly lowered the pod into Thomas’ bed.
Francie continued to watch in mounting terror as the pod glowed and expanded. It grew so large that a seam down the middle split and frothy white foam bubbled out. The insect monsters swirled around the blossoming cocoon, their buzzing reaching deafening heights. All the while, Harvey danced, clicked his heels, and flapped his coattails, reveling in his despicable deeds.
Soon, the pod took on the form of a little boy.
With the imposter planted, the insects returned to their place inside the ship. Harvey cooled, tipped his hat, and worked the levers. A hiss of steam, a pop of exhaust, and the magical dirigible casually floated away into the moonlit night.
Francie did not sleep that night or for many nights after. She never discovered what happened to her brother Thomas—though her parents never noticed the boy’s absence. For the thing that Harvey left behind looked just like Thomas. But the new Thomas did not pout or pull at his sister’s hair or ask for extra helpings of dessert. No, now he behaved as a perfect little boy, but Francie knew the terrible truth…
* * *
Annie sat in silence, her face pale and expressionless.
“Hey,” Rosalyn greeted, finally entering the room, her chore done.
“Ack!” Annie jerked with a start.
Dras stood, aiming the flashlight in Rosalyn’s face. She batted away the light, annoyed. “Dras, your brother’s outside to pick you up. What are you doing?”
“I was just telling her a story,” Dras said, innocently enough.
Rosalyn moved over and switched on the light. “Well, I’m done now. Do you want me to read you something, Annie?” The older girl spotted the children’s book on the dresser. She picked it up. “I could read you Harvey. It’s your favori—”
“No!” Annie shouted. She blushed, then relaxed. “No, uh, that’s okay. I’m pretty sleepy anyway.”
Dras snickered, but stopped abruptly when Rosalyn eyed him. He stammered, wringing the flashlight. “Uh…um…well, I’d better be gettin’ home. Later!”
“Fine,” Rosalyn replied. “And don’t forget to take your dumb Pod People movie home with you! It’s been sitting here since Halloween.”
Dras raced out the door, and Rosalyn turned back to Annie, raising an eyebrow. “Told you a story, did he? Was it scary?”
Annie nodded.
“Don’t listen to him. Dras is a goof.”
Rosalyn re-tucked her little sister into bed, kissed her on the head, then moved to switch off the lamp.
“Could you…” Annie bit her lip. “…keep it on?”
Rosalyn warmed. “Okay. ‘Night.”
She readied herself to leave, but Annie called her back. “Rosalyn?”
“Yeah?”
“Are…monsters real?”
“Nah.”
Annie considered. “…Okay.”
“Sleep tight.”
Annie lay alone in her room, listening to the night. From outside the sounds of chirping insects reached her attentive ears. They grew louder. Closer. She thought she heard the hiss of steam…
“Rosalyn, wait!” Annie hollered, grabbing her favorite stuffed animal and scurrying out the door. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”
Copyright 2009 Greg Mitchell
Harvey the Grasshopper!!!
Happy Halloween :)
Historian’s Note: This story takes place approximately eight years before the events in “The Coming Evil, Book One: The Strange Man”.
“Tell me a story.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Dras Weldon sighed, his shoulders sagging. Though he was only fourteen, he felt like an overtired parent suffering a hyperactive child. “Just because,” he groaned.
“Please?” Annie Myers whined, throwing in a labored cough, just to remind him that she was sick.
Dras frowned, glaring at her. “I already played Barbies with you all day.”
“Tell me a story, and I’ll go right to sleep and you won’t have to worry about me anymore.”
The boy thought to suggest that Annie’s sister, Rosalyn, be subjugated to bedtime duty, but his best friend was busy washing the dishes from their makeshift dinner of Spaghetti-Os. With her mom away at an emergency PTA meeting tonight, flu-ridden little Annie had no one left to bother. Dras was over at the Myers’ house anyway, hanging with Rosalyn as he did most every night, and he had tried to do the decent thing by spending a little time with her six-year-old sister. Now his heroics threatened to be the undoing of his dignity.
At last, he relented, knowing it would mean a lot to Rosalyn. “Fine. What story?”
Annie scrunched up her face in little girl excitement and pointed to the dresser across the lamplit room. “That one!”
Dras sulked over to the book in question, snatched it up, and stared down the cover.
“It’s…” he studied harder, tilting the book from side to side, as if trying to decode an ancient text. The cover depicted a cheery-looking grasshopper—or cricket?—dressed to the nines in some sort of Victorian get-up, lounging about like Willy Wonka on the deck of an ornate pirate ship attached to a hot air balloon as it sailed over green fields. “Um…”
“It’s Harvey the Grasshopper and His Magical Dirigible!”
Dras dropped the book as though it had oozed grossness all over him and slowly craned his neck to regard the kid. “Say wha—?” He wasn’t even exactly sure how to say “dirigible”.
Annie snuggled up in her bed, pulling the covers tighter. “Harvey travels across the world, bringing good dreams to kids. Read it!”
Dras considered. He eyed the book again. “Riiiight.” I’ve got a reputation to think about, here, the boy complained to himself. He strained his ears toward the kitchen and, sadly, detected the clinking of dishes. Rosalyn was still slaving.
Go on, you lug. Just suck it up. No one has to know.
“Okay,” he blurted. Dras procured the book and sat on the edge of Annie’s bed, seeing her face light up with anticipation. He gulped once, ready to sacrifice his self-respect, but suddenly halted, a stroke of utter brilliance slapping his floppy blonde top. “Tell you what,” he began, grinning devilishly. “How about I tell you the real story of Harry—”
“Harvey.”
“—Harvey,” he rolled his eyes, “the Grasshopper. Would you like that?”
Annie squinted suspiciously, gauging the older boy. “Ooookay.”
Dras restrained a deliciously evil laugh. “See, they can’t print the real story about Harvey.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’d never sleep again!” Dras shouted. “That’s why not!”
“I don’t believe you,” Annie huffed, her body tensing.
Dras stood and moved toward the lamp, nearly singing conspiratorial notes. “Well, it’s your loss.”
“Wait!” Annie called. Then she grimaced. “Fine. What’s the real story?”
Dras kept his back to her. “You sure you wanna know?”
“I said ‘yes’, didn’t I?”
“Alright.” Dras shrugged, as though it were no big deal. “But I warned you.” Without provocation, the boy reached out and jerked the chain on the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
“Hey!” Annie protested.
A bright beam of flashlight luminescence split the evening gloom, aimed right at Dras’ face, twisting his smooth features into a horrible display of shadowed terror. He shouted, “Mwuahahaha!” and was swiftly met by a pillow to the face.
His expression fell as he retrieved Annie’s pillow for her. “Alright, alright. Enough funny business. Prepare to hear the truth that will forever shatter your young idealism.”
“Just make it good, Weldon,” she threatened.
Dras took his seat on the bed, held the flashlight under his chin, and began his tale.
* * *
To understand Harvey and his horrors, one must first uncover the macabre origins of grasshoppers.
Long ago, before Man spread his dominion over the Earth, the kingdom of fairies shepherded the All-Father’s Creation. The fair-folk cared for the animals, the plants, and each other, living in perfect harmony. But one fairy possessed special knowledge of future events, and he foretold of a coming day when Man would subjugate the fair-folk. This doomsaying fairy’s terrifying prophecies won him many followers who began to build an army to oppose the coming of Man. They journeyed into the shadow of the Earth and consulted the dark spirits who lost their foothold on the Earth when the All-Father spoke Light into existence. The fairy rebel struck a truce with the Dark, proposing an alliance to stomp out the race of Man, still in its infancy. The Great Rebel—as he became known in Old Legend—promised he would divide the Earth with the dark spirits, sharing the spoils of war. The spirits agreed to the proposal, all the time planning in their wicked hearts to turn on the Great Rebel and swallow the world in forever black night.
Together the Dark and the Great Rebel worked together, taking willing fairy warriors and...changing them. Soon, these fairies’ legs snapped and bent backwards, giving them incredible leaping abilities. Their slender, beautiful arms became serrated deadly weapons. A hard exoskeleton masked their once-fair faces, concealing them behind horrific visages of war. These poor creatures lost all ability to speak—to sing—only able to communicate by scraping together their claws in primal bloodlust. The Grasshopper was born. These elite warriors descended upon mankind but, despite their numbers, their diminutive size proved their downfall.
Man was simply too big.
The fairy kingdom soon fell, but the Dark, when they sought their revenge, discovered an unforeseen consequence of their allegiance with the fair-folk. The Great Rebel and his surviving followers were now more evil and powerful than even those ancient dark spirits. And the Great Rebel, or Harvey, as was his given name, demanded loyalty from the Dark and rebel fairy alike as he planned a future and final attack on Man...
* * *
“Are you making this up?” Annie groaned, crossing her arms. Her eyes wavered, though, revealing the tiniest bit of unease.
Catching on, Dras grinned. “Gettin’ scared, already? I haven’t even gotten to the bad part yet.”
Annie’s sassy attitude faltered, her eyes widening ever so slightly.
“We could always quit if you’re too scared,” Dras offered, just a hint of condescension in his voice.
“No,” Annie quickly replied. “Just…hurry up, okay?”
Dras’ lips parted and he sang, “Ooookaaaayyy...”
* * *
The first human to uncover the shocking truth of Harvey was a little girl named Francie Stephens. Francie and her brother Thomas, like many children, heard fantastical tales of a benevolent grasshopper in his magical dirigible, come to bring them sweet dreams. Harvey wrote those stories himself. It was all a part of his plan. In an effort to meet Harvey, Francie stayed up past her bedtime, hoping to catch a glimpse of the grasshopper. Sure enough, Francie heard the hiss of steam and mechanical grinding of tiny propellers over the evening breeze. Francie raced to her window and saw the floating ship journeying over the fields, headed her way. In glee, she hid under her covers, barely peeking out, as Harvey entered her open bedroom window.
Francie nearly squealed with delight as the smiling grasshopper in suit and top hat walked the deck and surveyed young Thomas sleeping below. Her eyes growing in pleasant astonishment, Francie watched as Harvey tapped a cane on the railing, and, with a wide, sweeping gesture, sprinkled magical golden dust over Thomas’ head. Francie wondered what wonderful dreams her brother must be having—
Until Thomas sat upright, stiff as a board. His eyes were glazed over, his small mouth open in a slack-jawed stupor. From his perch up above, Harvey cackled, shrill and tiny, as a horde of clicking insects exploded from every porthole of the magical airship, filling the room with buzzing. Francie gasped in horror, unable to look away.
The army of grasshoppers swarmed Thomas, seizing him by the pajamas and lifting him out of his bed, high into the air. Thomas did not kick or scream, just hung there helpless as a thousand grasshoppers flapped their miniscule wings and carried him out into the dark, windy night.
Francie wanted to scream, to chase after her brother, but she dared not move, fearful that she would be taken next. At least another thousand grasshoppers still hovered in her room. They charged the airship, disappearing inside, then re-emerged, carrying a small glowing pod.
Harvey danced on the deck, pumping his cane like the mad drum major of a parade straight from Hell. He pranced and giggled in mischievous glee, watching as his army slowly lowered the pod into Thomas’ bed.
Francie continued to watch in mounting terror as the pod glowed and expanded. It grew so large that a seam down the middle split and frothy white foam bubbled out. The insect monsters swirled around the blossoming cocoon, their buzzing reaching deafening heights. All the while, Harvey danced, clicked his heels, and flapped his coattails, reveling in his despicable deeds.
Soon, the pod took on the form of a little boy.
With the imposter planted, the insects returned to their place inside the ship. Harvey cooled, tipped his hat, and worked the levers. A hiss of steam, a pop of exhaust, and the magical dirigible casually floated away into the moonlit night.
Francie did not sleep that night or for many nights after. She never discovered what happened to her brother Thomas—though her parents never noticed the boy’s absence. For the thing that Harvey left behind looked just like Thomas. But the new Thomas did not pout or pull at his sister’s hair or ask for extra helpings of dessert. No, now he behaved as a perfect little boy, but Francie knew the terrible truth…
* * *
Annie sat in silence, her face pale and expressionless.
“Hey,” Rosalyn greeted, finally entering the room, her chore done.
“Ack!” Annie jerked with a start.
Dras stood, aiming the flashlight in Rosalyn’s face. She batted away the light, annoyed. “Dras, your brother’s outside to pick you up. What are you doing?”
“I was just telling her a story,” Dras said, innocently enough.
Rosalyn moved over and switched on the light. “Well, I’m done now. Do you want me to read you something, Annie?” The older girl spotted the children’s book on the dresser. She picked it up. “I could read you Harvey. It’s your favori—”
“No!” Annie shouted. She blushed, then relaxed. “No, uh, that’s okay. I’m pretty sleepy anyway.”
Dras snickered, but stopped abruptly when Rosalyn eyed him. He stammered, wringing the flashlight. “Uh…um…well, I’d better be gettin’ home. Later!”
“Fine,” Rosalyn replied. “And don’t forget to take your dumb Pod People movie home with you! It’s been sitting here since Halloween.”
Dras raced out the door, and Rosalyn turned back to Annie, raising an eyebrow. “Told you a story, did he? Was it scary?”
Annie nodded.
“Don’t listen to him. Dras is a goof.”
Rosalyn re-tucked her little sister into bed, kissed her on the head, then moved to switch off the lamp.
“Could you…” Annie bit her lip. “…keep it on?”
Rosalyn warmed. “Okay. ‘Night.”
She readied herself to leave, but Annie called her back. “Rosalyn?”
“Yeah?”
“Are…monsters real?”
“Nah.”
Annie considered. “…Okay.”
“Sleep tight.”
Annie lay alone in her room, listening to the night. From outside the sounds of chirping insects reached her attentive ears. They grew louder. Closer. She thought she heard the hiss of steam…
“Rosalyn, wait!” Annie hollered, grabbing her favorite stuffed animal and scurrying out the door. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”
Copyright 2009 Greg Mitchell
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