John Meszaros's Blog
February 2, 2018
More Two-sentence Horror Stories
During some slow days at work, I passed the time by writing some two sentence creepy stories. Creating these feels a lot like writing a haiku. Since there's such a small space to work in, I start with a single, potent image and try to punch it up as much as possible.
Also, as before I've titled each story with a time and place to give them a feeling of being "grounded". A feeling that maybe if you visited these towns, you might hear whispered rumors of a strange thing that happened to somebody's cousin or best friend this one time...
Enjoy.
Groton, OH 2:34 PM
Since the main path was flooded, I had to take a detour through the meadow to get home before dark. As I walked, I did my best to ignore the brush of invisible fingers through my hair.
***
Bemidji, MN 6:45 AM
He went to sleep figuring he’d have a doctor look at the discolored patch on his arm in the morning. By the first light of dawn, the fungal strands spreading from his dried husk had covered everything in the bedroom.
***
Aviles, FL
Everyone is careful to never acknowledge the soft, boneless hands sprouting from the ground all over town. Even glancing at them directly makes the faces in the trees sob for a full night straight.
***
Toledo, OH 8:21 PM
I knew as soon as I opened the door that the thing standing on the porch was not my brother. It wore his skin, but I could clearly hear the wooden joints creaking inside him and see the grain in his painted wooden eyes.
***
Ann Arbor, MI 2:05 AM
By this point I’d spent so many nights alone in the graduate library that I didn’t even flinch when the Lady in Green glided past me in the stacks, her feet three inches above the floor. I kept my gaze fixed down at the book in my hand so I wouldn’t have to see her egg-smooth face or the rounded stump where her left hand should have been.
***
Arco, ID 7:23 AM
That summer Queen-Anne’s Lace flowers sprouted all over the burnt remains of my neighbor’s house. When I dug one up, I found that the thick root bore the face of his daughter who had disappeared the year before the fire.
***
Port Jefferson, NY 5:46 PM
I saw him at the bottom of the basement stairs again, staring up at me without a sound. He can stare all he wants, but I’ll never tell anyone where I hid his body.
***
Lahaina, HI 2:53 AM
I turned to look in the hallway mirror. After a few seconds, my reflection turned to look back at me.
***
Lewes, DE 9:18 AM
After the storm, I discovered that the old oak in the corner of the backyard had fallen down. When I cut open the trunk, I found a hollow shaped like a man curled up in the fetal position.
***
New Paltz, NY 6:34 PM
My son was super excited to get the pumpkin home from the farmer’s market. That changed, though, when we cut a lid to scoop out the seeds and found a brain inside.
Also, as before I've titled each story with a time and place to give them a feeling of being "grounded". A feeling that maybe if you visited these towns, you might hear whispered rumors of a strange thing that happened to somebody's cousin or best friend this one time...
Enjoy.
Groton, OH 2:34 PM
Since the main path was flooded, I had to take a detour through the meadow to get home before dark. As I walked, I did my best to ignore the brush of invisible fingers through my hair.
***
Bemidji, MN 6:45 AM
He went to sleep figuring he’d have a doctor look at the discolored patch on his arm in the morning. By the first light of dawn, the fungal strands spreading from his dried husk had covered everything in the bedroom.
***
Aviles, FL
Everyone is careful to never acknowledge the soft, boneless hands sprouting from the ground all over town. Even glancing at them directly makes the faces in the trees sob for a full night straight.
***
Toledo, OH 8:21 PM
I knew as soon as I opened the door that the thing standing on the porch was not my brother. It wore his skin, but I could clearly hear the wooden joints creaking inside him and see the grain in his painted wooden eyes.
***
Ann Arbor, MI 2:05 AM
By this point I’d spent so many nights alone in the graduate library that I didn’t even flinch when the Lady in Green glided past me in the stacks, her feet three inches above the floor. I kept my gaze fixed down at the book in my hand so I wouldn’t have to see her egg-smooth face or the rounded stump where her left hand should have been.
***
Arco, ID 7:23 AM
That summer Queen-Anne’s Lace flowers sprouted all over the burnt remains of my neighbor’s house. When I dug one up, I found that the thick root bore the face of his daughter who had disappeared the year before the fire.
***
Port Jefferson, NY 5:46 PM
I saw him at the bottom of the basement stairs again, staring up at me without a sound. He can stare all he wants, but I’ll never tell anyone where I hid his body.
***
Lahaina, HI 2:53 AM
I turned to look in the hallway mirror. After a few seconds, my reflection turned to look back at me.
***
Lewes, DE 9:18 AM
After the storm, I discovered that the old oak in the corner of the backyard had fallen down. When I cut open the trunk, I found a hollow shaped like a man curled up in the fetal position.
***
New Paltz, NY 6:34 PM
My son was super excited to get the pumpkin home from the farmer’s market. That changed, though, when we cut a lid to scoop out the seeds and found a brain inside.
November 22, 2017
Christmas Ghost Stories
Now that the Halloween season has passed- well, HAS been passed for almost a month now- it seems like it should be time to put away all the ghosts and witches and other creepiness and start getting ready for the winter holidays*
But the season of hauntings and creepy things lurking in the woods is far from over. It’s only just beginning, in fact. For many cultures, winter is a time when the walls between worlds grow thin and beings from Another Place step into our plane of existence. If you look into Yuletime traditions outside of America, you’ll find hordes of ghosts, witches, trolls, household spirits and other supernatural things creeping around the outside walls or hiding behind the stove.
One of the better-known examples of Yuletide spookiness is the British tradition of telling ghost stories around Christmas. When you hear “Christmas ghosts” you probably think of Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” (and maybe also the line about how “there’ll be scary ghost stories” from the song “It’s The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” sung most famously by Andy Williams). But this was just one in a long history of tales. And indeed, it wasn't the only Christmas ghost story Dickens’ wrote.
Winter ghost stories have been told in Europe for centuries, but in Britain, the tradition really took off in the Victorian period. These tended to be what you might call “cozy” stories. The protagonists were often well-to-do or at least comfortably off. The hauntings frequently took place in or around a stately manor or otherwise well-furnished dwelling. There was little of the macabre alien horror of William Hope Hodgson, Arthur Machen or the later pulp writers like Lovecraft. Nor did Christmas ghost stories possess the desperate, psychological horror of Edgar Alan Poe or Mary Shelley. These were tales meant to spook, but not horrify. Something to create a little creepy fun on a cold winter’s night.** A good example of this scary but ultimately harmless haunting is M.R. James' "Oh Whistle And I'll Come To You, My Lad", available to read here.
James, by the way, is one of the better known ghost-story writers. Head academic administrator first at King's College in Cambridge, then at Eton College at the beginning of the 20th century, he was renowned as a medieval scholar and antiquarian, as well as a prolific author. Each year around Christmas he would write a new ghost story then invite his close friends, academic fellows and favored students to his rooms at the College where he would read the tale out loud by the flicker of a candle or a crackling fireplace.
There are many, many more creepy things lurking in the shadows around the winter holidays. I’ll detail a few more of them in future posts.
*(If you’re into that, of course. I personally love Christmas, but I know there are plenty of people who aren’t big on this time of year. For some, it’s the constant barrage of commercialism. For others, Christmas is a time of painful memories and loneliness. Some just aren’t that into it. I can understand all those points.)
** As with any literary genre, of course, there are plenty of accpetions to the "cozy haunting" style of Christmas ghost. See, for example, Dickens' strange "To Be Read At Dusk"
But the season of hauntings and creepy things lurking in the woods is far from over. It’s only just beginning, in fact. For many cultures, winter is a time when the walls between worlds grow thin and beings from Another Place step into our plane of existence. If you look into Yuletime traditions outside of America, you’ll find hordes of ghosts, witches, trolls, household spirits and other supernatural things creeping around the outside walls or hiding behind the stove.
One of the better-known examples of Yuletide spookiness is the British tradition of telling ghost stories around Christmas. When you hear “Christmas ghosts” you probably think of Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” (and maybe also the line about how “there’ll be scary ghost stories” from the song “It’s The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” sung most famously by Andy Williams). But this was just one in a long history of tales. And indeed, it wasn't the only Christmas ghost story Dickens’ wrote.
Winter ghost stories have been told in Europe for centuries, but in Britain, the tradition really took off in the Victorian period. These tended to be what you might call “cozy” stories. The protagonists were often well-to-do or at least comfortably off. The hauntings frequently took place in or around a stately manor or otherwise well-furnished dwelling. There was little of the macabre alien horror of William Hope Hodgson, Arthur Machen or the later pulp writers like Lovecraft. Nor did Christmas ghost stories possess the desperate, psychological horror of Edgar Alan Poe or Mary Shelley. These were tales meant to spook, but not horrify. Something to create a little creepy fun on a cold winter’s night.** A good example of this scary but ultimately harmless haunting is M.R. James' "Oh Whistle And I'll Come To You, My Lad", available to read here.
James, by the way, is one of the better known ghost-story writers. Head academic administrator first at King's College in Cambridge, then at Eton College at the beginning of the 20th century, he was renowned as a medieval scholar and antiquarian, as well as a prolific author. Each year around Christmas he would write a new ghost story then invite his close friends, academic fellows and favored students to his rooms at the College where he would read the tale out loud by the flicker of a candle or a crackling fireplace.There are many, many more creepy things lurking in the shadows around the winter holidays. I’ll detail a few more of them in future posts.
*(If you’re into that, of course. I personally love Christmas, but I know there are plenty of people who aren’t big on this time of year. For some, it’s the constant barrage of commercialism. For others, Christmas is a time of painful memories and loneliness. Some just aren’t that into it. I can understand all those points.)
** As with any literary genre, of course, there are plenty of accpetions to the "cozy haunting" style of Christmas ghost. See, for example, Dickens' strange "To Be Read At Dusk"
October 21, 2017
Two Sentence Horror Stories
To celebrate Halloween and Horror Week on Goodreads, I've written 13 two-sentence horror stories.
Gilboa, New York 7:16 Am
I awoke to see the Man Who Was Only Bones disappearing through the door that led to the hall. I tried to reach out to him but my arm was just a hollow tube of skin, my hand just an empty glove.
Murfreesboro, TN 2:39 PM
Tiny cubes of my husband’s bones hovered like bumblebees against the blue summer sky. I tapped one and watched it spin slowly, marveling that the bones were still suspended three days after I’d taken them out of him and cast them into the air.
Avon, CT 9:13 PM
As I sat upon the grassy hill, enjoying the warm night breeze against my bare arms, I was quite surprised to see a second moon emerge from behind the familiar single orb. I was even more startled to see the two of them blink.
Ypsilanti, MI 3:07 PM
I looked up from my book at the sound of soft crackling. On the couch, the shell of my wife’s old skin- a papery, translucent thing like a cicada shell- was slowly splitting up the back.
Gardner Lake, Norwich, CT 1:37 PM
I rowed the boat out onto the lake until I could see the roof of the sunken house dimly outlined against the tea-dark waters below. Leaning closer, I could just barely hear the soft piano music coming from inside it.
Natchez, MS 1:23 AM
After five hours of frantic digging with shovel, trowel, and my own torn fingers, I finally reached the coffin and yanked open the lid. Inside, as I’d feared, lay not my brother’s corpse, but a bloated pale maggot as long as a man.
Yale Peabody Museum, New Haven, CT 2:34 PM
I picked up the chunk of amber again, not sure if I’d seen right. And there it was entombed next to a pair of winged termites: a perfect replica- no longer than my thumbnail- of that strange man that had been standing on my back porch last night.
Pameacha Pond, Middletown, CT 4:15 PM
Two eyes the color of lemon drops peered up at Timothy from the murky, soup-green water below his floating feet. He turned to ask Marcus if he saw them too, but found only a few small ripples where his brother had been.
Jupiter, FL 6:05 AM
I often see him out of the corner of my eye, standing against the wall. I have never seen his face because every time I turn to look directly, he vanishes.
Great Cypress Swamp, Delmarva Peninsula, DE 6:55 PM
“Is it my turn now?” asked the yellow-eyed thing as she stretched out a veiny, six-fingered hand from among the duckweeds and pond slime.
“Yes,” Melinda said, smiling as she slipped the glove of human skin off her own clammy, fungus-blue hand and rolled it lovingly onto her sister’s.
Jefferson City, MO 7:14 AM
Mr. Alexander lay in his bed with eyes closed and arms resting peacefully at his sides. Cautiously, I pressed my ear to his chest and heard the faint buzzing of the insects that had completely hollowed out his body.
Lynn, MA 5:23 PM
I rested my head against the cold, damp stone of the ruined root cellar and looked out through the collapsed wall at the hemlocks as they swayed back and forth. It took me a few minutes to realize that there was no wind.
Apex, NC 3: 17 PM
I was playing with a couple of those transparent floaters in my vision, making them dance and dart around. I made one land on my dog’s back, only to watch it enfold her in a transparent chrysalis and dissolve her in seconds.
Gilboa, New York 7:16 Am
I awoke to see the Man Who Was Only Bones disappearing through the door that led to the hall. I tried to reach out to him but my arm was just a hollow tube of skin, my hand just an empty glove.
Murfreesboro, TN 2:39 PM
Tiny cubes of my husband’s bones hovered like bumblebees against the blue summer sky. I tapped one and watched it spin slowly, marveling that the bones were still suspended three days after I’d taken them out of him and cast them into the air.
Avon, CT 9:13 PM
As I sat upon the grassy hill, enjoying the warm night breeze against my bare arms, I was quite surprised to see a second moon emerge from behind the familiar single orb. I was even more startled to see the two of them blink.
Ypsilanti, MI 3:07 PM
I looked up from my book at the sound of soft crackling. On the couch, the shell of my wife’s old skin- a papery, translucent thing like a cicada shell- was slowly splitting up the back.
Gardner Lake, Norwich, CT 1:37 PM
I rowed the boat out onto the lake until I could see the roof of the sunken house dimly outlined against the tea-dark waters below. Leaning closer, I could just barely hear the soft piano music coming from inside it.
Natchez, MS 1:23 AM
After five hours of frantic digging with shovel, trowel, and my own torn fingers, I finally reached the coffin and yanked open the lid. Inside, as I’d feared, lay not my brother’s corpse, but a bloated pale maggot as long as a man.
Yale Peabody Museum, New Haven, CT 2:34 PM
I picked up the chunk of amber again, not sure if I’d seen right. And there it was entombed next to a pair of winged termites: a perfect replica- no longer than my thumbnail- of that strange man that had been standing on my back porch last night.
Pameacha Pond, Middletown, CT 4:15 PM
Two eyes the color of lemon drops peered up at Timothy from the murky, soup-green water below his floating feet. He turned to ask Marcus if he saw them too, but found only a few small ripples where his brother had been.
Jupiter, FL 6:05 AM
I often see him out of the corner of my eye, standing against the wall. I have never seen his face because every time I turn to look directly, he vanishes.
Great Cypress Swamp, Delmarva Peninsula, DE 6:55 PM
“Is it my turn now?” asked the yellow-eyed thing as she stretched out a veiny, six-fingered hand from among the duckweeds and pond slime.
“Yes,” Melinda said, smiling as she slipped the glove of human skin off her own clammy, fungus-blue hand and rolled it lovingly onto her sister’s.
Jefferson City, MO 7:14 AM
Mr. Alexander lay in his bed with eyes closed and arms resting peacefully at his sides. Cautiously, I pressed my ear to his chest and heard the faint buzzing of the insects that had completely hollowed out his body.
Lynn, MA 5:23 PM
I rested my head against the cold, damp stone of the ruined root cellar and looked out through the collapsed wall at the hemlocks as they swayed back and forth. It took me a few minutes to realize that there was no wind.
Apex, NC 3: 17 PM
I was playing with a couple of those transparent floaters in my vision, making them dance and dart around. I made one land on my dog’s back, only to watch it enfold her in a transparent chrysalis and dissolve her in seconds.
September 18, 2017
The Pope Mastodon
Here's another article I wrote for the latest issue of Tracks and Trails, the newsletter for Dinosaur State Park in Rocky Hill, Connecticut.
I've had a fondness for mastodons ever since I worked at the University of Michigan Museum of Natural History (though when I was working there it was called the Ruthven Exhibit Museum). Two of the most prominent exhibits in the prehistoric life hall were a pair of complete skeletons of these hairy pachyderms (well, technically not complete- a few bones were substituted from other, less complete finds. And a couple bones were even recreated using early 3D-printing). Their enduring presence at the museum left an indelible mark on my memory. And apparently I wasn't alone in my fondness for these beasts as the mastodon was declared Michigan's official state fossil in 2002.
It was a very pleasant surprise to find that Connecticut has its own mastodon- though this one is sadly in storage at the moment. Fingers crossed that it'll eventually find a permanent home somewhere.
Writing this article took a bit of basic detective work since the bones have been moved around so much. But I actually got to see them in real life AND discovered a very cool museum out on the western edge of the state.
Due to the newsletters limited space, I only got to share a few of the photos I took of the Post mastodon. But lucky for us a blog has no such limitations, so you'll get so see a lot more than the poor newsletter readers. Because really, who can ever get enough of looking at mastodon bones?
Anyways, here's the article in full.
THE POPE-HILL STEAD MASTODON
It was not so long ago that giant beasts roamed New England. Under the shadow of retreating glaciers, amid the conifers and cold prairies that have themselves migrated far to the North, mastodons roamed. Protected from the chill winds blowing off the ice sheets by coats of thick, woolly fur, these distant cousins to the elephant and the more well-known mammoth inhabited Connecticut until nearly 12,000 years ago.
Though mastodons look similar to mammoths- a confusion that is not helped by their scientific names (Mammut americanum for the mastodon, Mammuthus primigenius for the woolly mammoth)- the two animals had several distinctive differences. Mastodons were lighter-built with shorter legs. They also had a flatter back and head as opposed to the mammoth’s sloping back with its large fat-storing shoulder hump.
The biggest difference, however, lay in the structure of their teeth and what they ate. Mastodons browsed on trees and bushes using large, cone-shaped cusps on their teeth for crushing tough twigs and leaves. Mammoths had ridged washboard-like teeth for grazing on grasses. Due to these different dietary preferences, mastodons inhabited the dense, scrubby forests of prehistoric America while mammoths stuck to the open grasslands.
(note: I didn't mention this in the article that got published in the newsletter, but "mastodon" means "breast-tooth". It was named by the French naturalist Georges Cuvier, who thought the tips of the cusps looked like human breasts. Uh, okay... if you say so, Georges.)
The arrival of humans in North America is believed to have contributed significantly to the extinction of both woolly beasts, though the warming climate and changing habitats also probably played a significant role. Yet even though the mastodons may no longer roam America, their bones still lie waiting in the Earth
In 1913, workers digging a trench at Hill-Stead, the farm and house of Farmington industrialist Alfred A. Pope, uncovered just such a cache of giant bones. Realizing the significance of this find, the superintendant of Hill-Stead contacted the Peabody Museum. A team of experts from Yale guided by Professor Charles Schuchert, head of the museum’s paleontology department at the time, led the workmen in an excavation that unearthed a nearly complete mastodon skeleton. The body was missing only its tail, the small bones of the feet and its tusks. Though one of the latter would eventually be discovered a few months later.
The excavation was a local sensation and over the course of a week almost 2,000 people flooded the Hill-Stead property to get a glimpse of the bones being removed from their tomb. Numerous newspapers- some from as far away as Maine- reported on the discovery. It is not surprising that so many folks took an interest in this find. The mastodon had long held a fascination for Americans ever since the first five pound molar was dug up on a New York farm in 1705. Initially the creature to whom this giant tooth belonged was call the incognitum or “unknowable”. But throughout the 18th century many more teeth, tusks, jaws and other gigantic bones were tilled from the soil, allowing scientists to identify the beast as a cousin to the elephant, though one that was unique to North America. Thomas Jefferson himself would use the mastodon as a symbol of the strength and vigor of the New World to counteract the belief among European intellectuals that the fauna of America was smaller and weaker than that of Africa and Europe.
Since it was first freed from the ground in Farmington, the Pope mastodon has had quite a journey around Connecticut. At various times it has been housed at Yale, at the Connecticut State Museum of Natural History in Storrs and briefly at the Hill-Stead property itself. However, the majority of the skeleton’s time has been spent at the Institute for American Indian Studies in Washington, CT. The Institute, as stated on its website, “preserves and educates through discovery and creativity the diverse traditions, vitality and knowledge of Native American cultures.” The Pope Mastodon would make its first stop there in 1977 when the IAIS- then called the American Indian Archaeological Institute- incorporated it into a larger exhibit on the archaeology and life ways of the early Paleo-Indian inhabitants of Connecticut. It would remain on display until 1989, when it was sent into storage at the University of Connecticut, though it returned to the IAIS in 2015 for a 40th anniversary retrospective on the museum’s history.
An analysis of the Pope Mastodon also undertaken in 2015 by the Connecticut State Museum of Natural History determined the animal had died between 14,775 and 14,255 years ago, making it the oldest discovered mastodon in the Northeast.
Currently the Pope Mastodon is housed once again in storage at the IAIS. But even if you can’t see the bones themselves, the Institute is definitely worth a visit to learn about the history and living culture of Native Peoples- particularly the Peoples of Connecticut such as the Schagticoke, Golden Hill Paugusett, Quinnipiac, Mohegan, Mashantucket Pequot, Eastern Pequot and other Nations.
The Institute for American Indian Studies Museum and Research Center is located at 38 Curtis Road in Washington, CT.
I've had a fondness for mastodons ever since I worked at the University of Michigan Museum of Natural History (though when I was working there it was called the Ruthven Exhibit Museum). Two of the most prominent exhibits in the prehistoric life hall were a pair of complete skeletons of these hairy pachyderms (well, technically not complete- a few bones were substituted from other, less complete finds. And a couple bones were even recreated using early 3D-printing). Their enduring presence at the museum left an indelible mark on my memory. And apparently I wasn't alone in my fondness for these beasts as the mastodon was declared Michigan's official state fossil in 2002.
It was a very pleasant surprise to find that Connecticut has its own mastodon- though this one is sadly in storage at the moment. Fingers crossed that it'll eventually find a permanent home somewhere.
Writing this article took a bit of basic detective work since the bones have been moved around so much. But I actually got to see them in real life AND discovered a very cool museum out on the western edge of the state.
Due to the newsletters limited space, I only got to share a few of the photos I took of the Post mastodon. But lucky for us a blog has no such limitations, so you'll get so see a lot more than the poor newsletter readers. Because really, who can ever get enough of looking at mastodon bones?
Anyways, here's the article in full.
THE POPE-HILL STEAD MASTODON
It was not so long ago that giant beasts roamed New England. Under the shadow of retreating glaciers, amid the conifers and cold prairies that have themselves migrated far to the North, mastodons roamed. Protected from the chill winds blowing off the ice sheets by coats of thick, woolly fur, these distant cousins to the elephant and the more well-known mammoth inhabited Connecticut until nearly 12,000 years ago.
Though mastodons look similar to mammoths- a confusion that is not helped by their scientific names (Mammut americanum for the mastodon, Mammuthus primigenius for the woolly mammoth)- the two animals had several distinctive differences. Mastodons were lighter-built with shorter legs. They also had a flatter back and head as opposed to the mammoth’s sloping back with its large fat-storing shoulder hump.
The biggest difference, however, lay in the structure of their teeth and what they ate. Mastodons browsed on trees and bushes using large, cone-shaped cusps on their teeth for crushing tough twigs and leaves. Mammoths had ridged washboard-like teeth for grazing on grasses. Due to these different dietary preferences, mastodons inhabited the dense, scrubby forests of prehistoric America while mammoths stuck to the open grasslands.
(note: I didn't mention this in the article that got published in the newsletter, but "mastodon" means "breast-tooth". It was named by the French naturalist Georges Cuvier, who thought the tips of the cusps looked like human breasts. Uh, okay... if you say so, Georges.)
The arrival of humans in North America is believed to have contributed significantly to the extinction of both woolly beasts, though the warming climate and changing habitats also probably played a significant role. Yet even though the mastodons may no longer roam America, their bones still lie waiting in the Earth
In 1913, workers digging a trench at Hill-Stead, the farm and house of Farmington industrialist Alfred A. Pope, uncovered just such a cache of giant bones. Realizing the significance of this find, the superintendant of Hill-Stead contacted the Peabody Museum. A team of experts from Yale guided by Professor Charles Schuchert, head of the museum’s paleontology department at the time, led the workmen in an excavation that unearthed a nearly complete mastodon skeleton. The body was missing only its tail, the small bones of the feet and its tusks. Though one of the latter would eventually be discovered a few months later.
The excavation was a local sensation and over the course of a week almost 2,000 people flooded the Hill-Stead property to get a glimpse of the bones being removed from their tomb. Numerous newspapers- some from as far away as Maine- reported on the discovery. It is not surprising that so many folks took an interest in this find. The mastodon had long held a fascination for Americans ever since the first five pound molar was dug up on a New York farm in 1705. Initially the creature to whom this giant tooth belonged was call the incognitum or “unknowable”. But throughout the 18th century many more teeth, tusks, jaws and other gigantic bones were tilled from the soil, allowing scientists to identify the beast as a cousin to the elephant, though one that was unique to North America. Thomas Jefferson himself would use the mastodon as a symbol of the strength and vigor of the New World to counteract the belief among European intellectuals that the fauna of America was smaller and weaker than that of Africa and Europe.
Since it was first freed from the ground in Farmington, the Pope mastodon has had quite a journey around Connecticut. At various times it has been housed at Yale, at the Connecticut State Museum of Natural History in Storrs and briefly at the Hill-Stead property itself. However, the majority of the skeleton’s time has been spent at the Institute for American Indian Studies in Washington, CT. The Institute, as stated on its website, “preserves and educates through discovery and creativity the diverse traditions, vitality and knowledge of Native American cultures.” The Pope Mastodon would make its first stop there in 1977 when the IAIS- then called the American Indian Archaeological Institute- incorporated it into a larger exhibit on the archaeology and life ways of the early Paleo-Indian inhabitants of Connecticut. It would remain on display until 1989, when it was sent into storage at the University of Connecticut, though it returned to the IAIS in 2015 for a 40th anniversary retrospective on the museum’s history.
An analysis of the Pope Mastodon also undertaken in 2015 by the Connecticut State Museum of Natural History determined the animal had died between 14,775 and 14,255 years ago, making it the oldest discovered mastodon in the Northeast.
Currently the Pope Mastodon is housed once again in storage at the IAIS. But even if you can’t see the bones themselves, the Institute is definitely worth a visit to learn about the history and living culture of Native Peoples- particularly the Peoples of Connecticut such as the Schagticoke, Golden Hill Paugusett, Quinnipiac, Mohegan, Mashantucket Pequot, Eastern Pequot and other Nations.
The Institute for American Indian Studies Museum and Research Center is located at 38 Curtis Road in Washington, CT.
August 30, 2017
Scarecrows I have known
Last year my son was finally old enough (four, to be exact) to really started enjoying Halloween almost as much as I do. As part of our spooky autumn festivities, I took him to a bunch of farms and orchards. Among all the corn mazes, pumpkin patches and hay rides, by far his favorite things were the scarecrows.
Since then he’s pretty much been on a non-stop scarecrow kick. Sure it fades from time to time as his obsession turns towards mummies, skeletons or pirates (naturally). But scarecrows are always there in the background.
A few months ago I started doodling scarecrows for him during slow periods at my job. As I drew, I made up little stories for each scarecrow, building up a pretty detailed lore. Eventually I decided to develop a book. Two books actually. One will be a picture book for my son at his current age (also for my daughter who is herself a voracious book lover even at only one and a half years). The other will be a sort of “field guide” in the vein of Brian Froud’s Goblin and Fairy books, made for when my kids both get a little older.
I thought I’d share some of my scarecrow drawings with you guys, along with the background stories I created for them. I’ll be posting the original doodles, usually made on notebook paper or the backs of my daily schedules, along with more refined redraws.
Here's the first entry. I'll be continuing this series on a new blog at: https://livingscarecrows.blogspot.com/
HASPENALD
As a consequence of their habit of standing in one place in the field all day, many scarecrows develop an almost obsessive interest in studying a particular thing in their local environment. Some will learn the calls of every bird, insect and animal that wanders through near. Some will catalog the size, shape and color of every single rock in their field down to the smallest pebble. Some will identify and name every single spider they can find. And so on.
Haspenald’s obsession is the night sky. As the sun goes down, one can always find him in the middle of his cornfield gazing up at the stars. He has memorized the placement and movement of hundreds of them. He knows the seasons of meteor showers and can even recognize the difference between planets and stars. Though he has never read a book on astronomy- and indeed, cannot read at all- he has learned a great deal about the nature of stars and planets from the Traveler Crows that visit his field. More on them later.
Since then he’s pretty much been on a non-stop scarecrow kick. Sure it fades from time to time as his obsession turns towards mummies, skeletons or pirates (naturally). But scarecrows are always there in the background.
A few months ago I started doodling scarecrows for him during slow periods at my job. As I drew, I made up little stories for each scarecrow, building up a pretty detailed lore. Eventually I decided to develop a book. Two books actually. One will be a picture book for my son at his current age (also for my daughter who is herself a voracious book lover even at only one and a half years). The other will be a sort of “field guide” in the vein of Brian Froud’s Goblin and Fairy books, made for when my kids both get a little older.
I thought I’d share some of my scarecrow drawings with you guys, along with the background stories I created for them. I’ll be posting the original doodles, usually made on notebook paper or the backs of my daily schedules, along with more refined redraws.
Here's the first entry. I'll be continuing this series on a new blog at: https://livingscarecrows.blogspot.com/
HASPENALD
As a consequence of their habit of standing in one place in the field all day, many scarecrows develop an almost obsessive interest in studying a particular thing in their local environment. Some will learn the calls of every bird, insect and animal that wanders through near. Some will catalog the size, shape and color of every single rock in their field down to the smallest pebble. Some will identify and name every single spider they can find. And so on.
Haspenald’s obsession is the night sky. As the sun goes down, one can always find him in the middle of his cornfield gazing up at the stars. He has memorized the placement and movement of hundreds of them. He knows the seasons of meteor showers and can even recognize the difference between planets and stars. Though he has never read a book on astronomy- and indeed, cannot read at all- he has learned a great deal about the nature of stars and planets from the Traveler Crows that visit his field. More on them later.
May 8, 2017
Edward Hitchock, founder of ichnology
(Note: this entry also appears on my personal blog, where its accompanied by some sweet pictures of dinosaur footprints.)
Since I started working at Dinosaur State Park in Rocky Hill, CT, I've learned a lot about the history of paleontology in Connecticut. A lot of milestones in the study of ancient life happened right here in the Nutmeg state, not the least of which is the founding of the Yale Peabody Museum which houses many of the spectacular finds of Othniel Charles Marsh.
But another great contributor to the study of ancient life was Edward Hitchock, a professor at Amherst College who did the first scientific study of the dinosaur footprints that are abundant in the Connecticut Valley.
For the Winter issue of Dino State Park's newsletter, Tracks and Trails, I wrote a brief biography of Hitchcock in the hopes of exposing this paleontological pioneer to a wider audience.
Here's the article in its entirety (I should add that this article was written to accompany another series of articles talking about a lecture series by Dr. Robert Bakker, who came to Dinosaur State Park as part of our celebration of the 50th anniversary of the discovery of the tracks):
EDWARD HITCHCOCK: DISCOVERER OF THE TRACKWAYS
by John Meszaros
In his guest lecture to the Geological Society of Connecticut, Dr. Robert Bakker talked about the achievements of renowned geologist Edward Hitchcock. But just who was Hitchcock, exactly?
Born to a farming family on May 24th, 1793 in Deerfield, Massachusetts, Edward Hitchcock was fascinated by the natural world from a young age. He spent his free time during the day engaged in scientific pursuits, and his nights outside lost amid the stars. This nascent naturalist was, however, stricken from the beginning with poor health, often suffering from “dyspepsia”- acute problems with indigestion coupled with feelings of anxiety and depression. In 1814 he was even temporarily blinded by a severe case of mumps. Nature brought the young Edward solace from his maladies. He would often take long hikes in the mountains surrounding Deerfield, a habit that would instill in him a deep fascination with the natural history of the Central Connecticut Valley. This fascination would continue into adulthood and eventually lead to his position as one of the foremost geologists in New England.
Young Hitchcock wrote multiple papers on his observations and submitted them to the American Journal of Science, one of the first publications in America exclusively devoted to science. Thanks to these papers, Hitchcock gained a reputation among scientific circles that would eventually lead to the Trustees of Amherst College inviting him to take the position of Professor of Natural History and Chemistry. In this position, he continued to make geological discoveries, including the realization that the basaltic ridges so prominent in the Connecticut Valley were formed from magma pressing up through fissures in the crust rather than exploding out of volcanoes. His most well-known discovery came around 1835 when he saw the first of the dinosaur tracks that would become his life’s work.
People living in the Connecticut Valley had long been aware of the strange footprints embedded in the red sandstone all around them. The first recorded evidence dates from 1802, when a teenager named Pliny Moody made a doorstep out of a large track-covered slab that he dug out of his father’s field. Hitchcock, however, was the first person to make a formal scientific investigation of the tracks. He learned of the prints via a physician named James Deane, who had heard of them himself from a man who, much like Moody, had used a slab of trackway as a paving stone in front of his house. Once Hitchcock got a look at the tracks himself, he began a search up and down the Valley, hunting for more of the mysterious fossils and finding them everywhere- in quarries and eroded hillsides, in manmade walls and laid flat inside walkways. After collecting dozens of track-bearing sandstone slabs, Hitchcock began a long, comprehensive study of the prints, eventually developing a new science, Ichnology, which is the study of animal behavior through traces such as footprints, burrows, droppings and so on.
The term “dinosaur” did not exist at the time that Hitchcock was studying the Connecticut tracks. It would be several years before anatomist Sir Richard Owen would formally introduce the term. Hitchcock, therefore, hypothesized that the prints had been made by gigantic moa-like birds- and to a lesser extent by strange prehistoric frog- and marsupial-like creatures. Even when dinosaurs became widely known, he clung until the day he died to the idea that the mystery print-makers were great birds rather than Terrible Lizards. The exact reasons for his stubborn attachment to enormous avians as the culprits is unclear. But it is an amusing irony that within the past few decades the old model of dinosaurs as lumbering, rotund reptiles has been discarded in favor of images of swift, active, feathery creatures much more closely related to birds than lizards.
To fully understand Hitchcock, it’s important to know that he was as much a man of faith as of science. He was a devout Christian and considered himself a scholar of Natural Theology- the study of Nature in an attempt to better understand God. He scorned the works of Lamarck and Darwin which advocated for evolution and natural selection, preferring instead the idea that God had created and then destroyed several sequences of animals perfectly adapted to their environment. Like many of his fellow natural theologians, though, Hitchcock did not take the word of the Bible literally. He viewed many passages as metaphor or interpretation and worked diligently throughout his life to bridge the words of Scripture with his scientific observation.
Though Hitchcock was in many ways a man of his time, there was at least one area where he was socially ahead of his contemporaries. At a time when higher education was considered unfit for women, Hitchcock tutored many of them in his classes. Among his students were the poet Emily Dickinson- who often included scientific terms in her works- and Mary Lyon, the founder of Mount Holyoke College (which was known at the time as a Women’s Seminary). Lyon, especially, was a close friend of Hitchcock and his family and would often live with them for several months at a time. Upon Lyon’s death Hitchcock wrote “A Chapter in the Book of Providence”, a tribute to her life that he later expanded into a full biography, The Life and Labours of Mary Lyon.
Another remarkable woman in Edward Hitchcock’s life was his beloved wife Orra White who was, for a time, an assistant teacher at Deerfield Academy. She was also an accomplished watercolor artist and created hundreds of illustrations for her husband’s writings and lectures. In the dedication to his book The Religion of Geology, he wrote that “your (Orra’s) artistic skill has done more than my voice to render that science attractive to the young men whom I have instructed.”
Edward Hitchcock’s work on the Connecticut Valley trackways has left an indelible mark on paleontology and New England geology. At Dinosaur State Park you can view two of his classic footprint studies alongside a replica of “The Bones From the Well”, one of the few dinosaur skeletons found in Connecticut. You can also see Hitchcock’s complete collection of fossil footprints in a special dedicated gallery at the Beneski Museum of Natural History in Amherst, Massachusetts.
You can learn more about Hitchcock from the book
Curious Footprints: Professor Hitchcock's Dinosaur Tracks & Other Natural History Treasures at Amherst College by Nany Pick and Frank Ward
Brendan Hanrahan also gives a good summary of the life of Hitchcock and other significant Connecticut Valley paleontologists in his book
Great Day Trips in the Connecticut Valley of the Dinosaurs
Since I started working at Dinosaur State Park in Rocky Hill, CT, I've learned a lot about the history of paleontology in Connecticut. A lot of milestones in the study of ancient life happened right here in the Nutmeg state, not the least of which is the founding of the Yale Peabody Museum which houses many of the spectacular finds of Othniel Charles Marsh.
But another great contributor to the study of ancient life was Edward Hitchock, a professor at Amherst College who did the first scientific study of the dinosaur footprints that are abundant in the Connecticut Valley.
For the Winter issue of Dino State Park's newsletter, Tracks and Trails, I wrote a brief biography of Hitchcock in the hopes of exposing this paleontological pioneer to a wider audience.
Here's the article in its entirety (I should add that this article was written to accompany another series of articles talking about a lecture series by Dr. Robert Bakker, who came to Dinosaur State Park as part of our celebration of the 50th anniversary of the discovery of the tracks):
EDWARD HITCHCOCK: DISCOVERER OF THE TRACKWAYS
by John Meszaros
In his guest lecture to the Geological Society of Connecticut, Dr. Robert Bakker talked about the achievements of renowned geologist Edward Hitchcock. But just who was Hitchcock, exactly?
Born to a farming family on May 24th, 1793 in Deerfield, Massachusetts, Edward Hitchcock was fascinated by the natural world from a young age. He spent his free time during the day engaged in scientific pursuits, and his nights outside lost amid the stars. This nascent naturalist was, however, stricken from the beginning with poor health, often suffering from “dyspepsia”- acute problems with indigestion coupled with feelings of anxiety and depression. In 1814 he was even temporarily blinded by a severe case of mumps. Nature brought the young Edward solace from his maladies. He would often take long hikes in the mountains surrounding Deerfield, a habit that would instill in him a deep fascination with the natural history of the Central Connecticut Valley. This fascination would continue into adulthood and eventually lead to his position as one of the foremost geologists in New England.
Young Hitchcock wrote multiple papers on his observations and submitted them to the American Journal of Science, one of the first publications in America exclusively devoted to science. Thanks to these papers, Hitchcock gained a reputation among scientific circles that would eventually lead to the Trustees of Amherst College inviting him to take the position of Professor of Natural History and Chemistry. In this position, he continued to make geological discoveries, including the realization that the basaltic ridges so prominent in the Connecticut Valley were formed from magma pressing up through fissures in the crust rather than exploding out of volcanoes. His most well-known discovery came around 1835 when he saw the first of the dinosaur tracks that would become his life’s work.
People living in the Connecticut Valley had long been aware of the strange footprints embedded in the red sandstone all around them. The first recorded evidence dates from 1802, when a teenager named Pliny Moody made a doorstep out of a large track-covered slab that he dug out of his father’s field. Hitchcock, however, was the first person to make a formal scientific investigation of the tracks. He learned of the prints via a physician named James Deane, who had heard of them himself from a man who, much like Moody, had used a slab of trackway as a paving stone in front of his house. Once Hitchcock got a look at the tracks himself, he began a search up and down the Valley, hunting for more of the mysterious fossils and finding them everywhere- in quarries and eroded hillsides, in manmade walls and laid flat inside walkways. After collecting dozens of track-bearing sandstone slabs, Hitchcock began a long, comprehensive study of the prints, eventually developing a new science, Ichnology, which is the study of animal behavior through traces such as footprints, burrows, droppings and so on.
The term “dinosaur” did not exist at the time that Hitchcock was studying the Connecticut tracks. It would be several years before anatomist Sir Richard Owen would formally introduce the term. Hitchcock, therefore, hypothesized that the prints had been made by gigantic moa-like birds- and to a lesser extent by strange prehistoric frog- and marsupial-like creatures. Even when dinosaurs became widely known, he clung until the day he died to the idea that the mystery print-makers were great birds rather than Terrible Lizards. The exact reasons for his stubborn attachment to enormous avians as the culprits is unclear. But it is an amusing irony that within the past few decades the old model of dinosaurs as lumbering, rotund reptiles has been discarded in favor of images of swift, active, feathery creatures much more closely related to birds than lizards.
To fully understand Hitchcock, it’s important to know that he was as much a man of faith as of science. He was a devout Christian and considered himself a scholar of Natural Theology- the study of Nature in an attempt to better understand God. He scorned the works of Lamarck and Darwin which advocated for evolution and natural selection, preferring instead the idea that God had created and then destroyed several sequences of animals perfectly adapted to their environment. Like many of his fellow natural theologians, though, Hitchcock did not take the word of the Bible literally. He viewed many passages as metaphor or interpretation and worked diligently throughout his life to bridge the words of Scripture with his scientific observation.
Though Hitchcock was in many ways a man of his time, there was at least one area where he was socially ahead of his contemporaries. At a time when higher education was considered unfit for women, Hitchcock tutored many of them in his classes. Among his students were the poet Emily Dickinson- who often included scientific terms in her works- and Mary Lyon, the founder of Mount Holyoke College (which was known at the time as a Women’s Seminary). Lyon, especially, was a close friend of Hitchcock and his family and would often live with them for several months at a time. Upon Lyon’s death Hitchcock wrote “A Chapter in the Book of Providence”, a tribute to her life that he later expanded into a full biography, The Life and Labours of Mary Lyon.
Another remarkable woman in Edward Hitchcock’s life was his beloved wife Orra White who was, for a time, an assistant teacher at Deerfield Academy. She was also an accomplished watercolor artist and created hundreds of illustrations for her husband’s writings and lectures. In the dedication to his book The Religion of Geology, he wrote that “your (Orra’s) artistic skill has done more than my voice to render that science attractive to the young men whom I have instructed.”
Edward Hitchcock’s work on the Connecticut Valley trackways has left an indelible mark on paleontology and New England geology. At Dinosaur State Park you can view two of his classic footprint studies alongside a replica of “The Bones From the Well”, one of the few dinosaur skeletons found in Connecticut. You can also see Hitchcock’s complete collection of fossil footprints in a special dedicated gallery at the Beneski Museum of Natural History in Amherst, Massachusetts.
You can learn more about Hitchcock from the book
Curious Footprints: Professor Hitchcock's Dinosaur Tracks & Other Natural History Treasures at Amherst College by Nany Pick and Frank Ward Brendan Hanrahan also gives a good summary of the life of Hitchcock and other significant Connecticut Valley paleontologists in his book
Great Day Trips in the Connecticut Valley of the Dinosaurs
January 7, 2017
The Meccano-Mummy of North Dakota
I just added a new post to my blog on "official" unoffical state cryptids. This time it's a bizarre, mummy-like extraterrestrial that was seen in North Dakota.
Read the complete post here:
http://statecryptids.blogspot.com/201...
Read the complete post here:
http://statecryptids.blogspot.com/201...
December 14, 2016
Astarapomp Dossier
Here's a new post in my epistolary story blog! This one has photos!
http://astarapompdossier.blogspot.com...
http://astarapompdossier.blogspot.com...
November 18, 2016
Another scary story anthology review
So the review-a-week during October thing didn't really work out so well. Life got in the way a lot, and last month was just a huge Sucktober. But I still enjoy reading and reviewing these kid's horror anthologies, so I'm going to post a few more.
Anyway...
BRUCE COVILLE’S BOOK OF MONSTERS
Bruce Coville was a huge influence on me growing up. Even today I can still vividly remember his strange worlds and unusual characters. And I’m pleased to find that rereading his stories as an adult does not diminish my love for them, as sometimes happens when I read other writers without the nostalgia glasses on.
I first got into Coville through My Teacher is An Alien, and its three sequels. The series started off as a simple plot about a girl finding out that, as you might possibly have guessed, her jerkass teacher is actually an extraterrestrial leading an invasion of Earth. The sequels revealed a deeper complexity as the scope of the plot expanded into a space opera about the potential danger of humanity to the wider universe, and what the other alien races were going do about it. A fairly common plotline in adult sci-fi, but this was my first introduction to it.
Around the same time as My Teacher is an Alien, Coville also came out with a series of anthologies themed around various fantasy/horror tropes. The collection started with the Book of Monsters, which featured corporeal, Earth-bound boogeymen. The next two in the series were
The Book of Aliens
and Book of Ghosts. You can probably guess what their subjects were.
The fourth volume was a
Book of Magic which featured fantasy-oriented stories.
Book of Nightmares, the fifth in the series, showcased more surreal and, well, nightmarish horrors that didn’t really fit into any of the other books.
A sixth collection,
the Book of Spine Tinglers, is a bit harder to pin down thematically. The stories are similar to the Creepypasta feel of the Book of Nightmares, but Coville’s Introduction indicates the book is specifically about fear- about that sense of creeping fright that overcomes you as you read a story. He even admits that this sensation is entirely objective; a story can fill one person with crawling dread and have absolutely no effect on another person.
This review focuses on the first work in the series Bruce Coville’s Book of Monsters. I may eventually review the other books too, perhaps as a Halloween theme next year.
My Little Brother is a Monster by Bruce Coville
As I said before, I love Coville’s world-building. Just the very name of the monster world: the Land of Always October. Immediately I get visions of a misty, swampy world lit by hovering will ’o wisps and smelling of autumn leaves.
The story itself is a classic tale of a kid from the mundane world entering the Otherworld that parallels our own, a world created from our dreams and nightmares, populated by monsters who are the inverse of beings in our world. The set-up feels like it could be the start of an entire YA novel, though as far as I know this was Coville’s only foray into the Land of Always October.
Momster in the Closet by Jane Yolen
A short, simple story about a kid afraid of the bogeyman in his closet. Has one of those out-of-nowhere Goosebumps-style twists (and if you’re reading this review, you hopefully remember the Goosebumps series), but the brevity of this story makes it work.
Merlin’s Knight School by Michael Markiewicz
The first in a series of short stories about young King Arthur and his adopted older brother Cai- probably known best by most modern readers from Disney’s The Sword in the Stone, where he’s a jerk and a bully. This Cai’s a little nicer, at least.
I like that the monster in this tale was specifically summoned by Merlin (Merlyn in this tale) to serve a beneficial purpose.
Uncle Joshua and the Grooglemen by Debra Doyle and James D. Macdonald
A strange story with more going on than a young reader may realize. The story’s narrator isn’t so much unreliable as he is unfamiliar with what he is actually seeing.
This is the only story in the anthology that isn’t illustrated, since an actual depiction of the Grooglemen would immediately give away what they are, as well as the truth about what’s really going on in the story.
Friendly Persuasion by Bruce Coville
A short, goofy story about a sprite trying to explain to the horrible Ba-Grumpus all the reasons that it shouldn’t eat her.
Kokolimalayas, the Bone Man by Laura Simms
A retelling of a traditional story of the Madoc people of Oregon and Northern California. It's neat seeing a "classic monster" story from a non-European culture.
The Thing That Goes Burp in the Night by Sharon Webb
This is one of those stories where you could easily say that everything is taking place inside the main character’s head. But I like to think the kid really DID summon a chocolate-eating basement monster by reading random medical words out of the Merck Manual, Thirteenth Edition.
Personality Problem by Joe R. Landsdale
Poor Frankenstein’s monster can’t ever catch a break. Not even from his therapist.
Duffy’s Jacket by Bruce Coville
A story with a kind “campfire tale” vibe. Lots of slow build-up to a surprise ending, though this one is more goofy than “it’s right behind you!” jump-scare.
The Bogeyman by Jack Prelutsky
I’ll admit I’m not really big on poetry. But I like the “folksong” feel of this one.
Bloody Mary by Patrick Bone
No, no no! Repeating “Bloody Mary” into the mirror makes her ghost jump out at you. It does not turn you into a hairy, clawed monster! Geez!
The Beast With A Thousand Teeth by Terry Jones
Written by THE Terry Jones of Monty Python fame (and writer for one of my favorite books, the Golbin Companion). According to the biography at the end, this story came from a collection of fairy tales Jones wrote for his young daughter and it definitely shows through the young baker protagonist who figures out a clever way to defeat the titular beast with way too many pointy- and cavity-prone- teeth.
Timor and the Furnace Troll by John Barnes
My favorite story in the bunch. I might even like it more than Coville’s own tales. Poor Timor is terrible at being an elf and constantly gets bullied because of it. When he gets a class assignment to do a report on trolls, he goes to meet the one who lives in the (continent-sized) school’s furnace room and finally finds someone who understands him. Someone who is admittedly an elf-eating 12-foot tall troll.
I like the setting of this story. The way elfland seems like a distorted mirror of contemporary (at least early 90s) society. A sort of “suburban fantasy” taking place among the fresh-mown lawns and flat-roofed, sprawling elementary schools of a middle-class fantasy world. It reminds me of a less dark version of Michael Swanwick’s “The Iron Dragon’s Daughter”.
Anthologies are usually very uneven in quality. Some stories shine. Some fall flat. Some can even be painful to read. Coville’s Book of Monsters maintains pretty high quality overall, though. Even the weakest story- which for me was the very “meh” Bloody Mary- isn’t terrible. It’s quite clear Coville put a lot of careful thought into selecting the tales for his book.
Anyway...
BRUCE COVILLE’S BOOK OF MONSTERS
Bruce Coville was a huge influence on me growing up. Even today I can still vividly remember his strange worlds and unusual characters. And I’m pleased to find that rereading his stories as an adult does not diminish my love for them, as sometimes happens when I read other writers without the nostalgia glasses on.
I first got into Coville through My Teacher is An Alien, and its three sequels. The series started off as a simple plot about a girl finding out that, as you might possibly have guessed, her jerkass teacher is actually an extraterrestrial leading an invasion of Earth. The sequels revealed a deeper complexity as the scope of the plot expanded into a space opera about the potential danger of humanity to the wider universe, and what the other alien races were going do about it. A fairly common plotline in adult sci-fi, but this was my first introduction to it.
Around the same time as My Teacher is an Alien, Coville also came out with a series of anthologies themed around various fantasy/horror tropes. The collection started with the Book of Monsters, which featured corporeal, Earth-bound boogeymen. The next two in the series were
The Book of Aliens
and Book of Ghosts. You can probably guess what their subjects were. The fourth volume was a
Book of Magic which featured fantasy-oriented stories.
Book of Nightmares, the fifth in the series, showcased more surreal and, well, nightmarish horrors that didn’t really fit into any of the other books. A sixth collection,
the Book of Spine Tinglers, is a bit harder to pin down thematically. The stories are similar to the Creepypasta feel of the Book of Nightmares, but Coville’s Introduction indicates the book is specifically about fear- about that sense of creeping fright that overcomes you as you read a story. He even admits that this sensation is entirely objective; a story can fill one person with crawling dread and have absolutely no effect on another person.This review focuses on the first work in the series Bruce Coville’s Book of Monsters. I may eventually review the other books too, perhaps as a Halloween theme next year.
My Little Brother is a Monster by Bruce Coville
As I said before, I love Coville’s world-building. Just the very name of the monster world: the Land of Always October. Immediately I get visions of a misty, swampy world lit by hovering will ’o wisps and smelling of autumn leaves.
The story itself is a classic tale of a kid from the mundane world entering the Otherworld that parallels our own, a world created from our dreams and nightmares, populated by monsters who are the inverse of beings in our world. The set-up feels like it could be the start of an entire YA novel, though as far as I know this was Coville’s only foray into the Land of Always October.
Momster in the Closet by Jane Yolen
A short, simple story about a kid afraid of the bogeyman in his closet. Has one of those out-of-nowhere Goosebumps-style twists (and if you’re reading this review, you hopefully remember the Goosebumps series), but the brevity of this story makes it work.
Merlin’s Knight School by Michael Markiewicz
The first in a series of short stories about young King Arthur and his adopted older brother Cai- probably known best by most modern readers from Disney’s The Sword in the Stone, where he’s a jerk and a bully. This Cai’s a little nicer, at least.
I like that the monster in this tale was specifically summoned by Merlin (Merlyn in this tale) to serve a beneficial purpose.
Uncle Joshua and the Grooglemen by Debra Doyle and James D. Macdonald
A strange story with more going on than a young reader may realize. The story’s narrator isn’t so much unreliable as he is unfamiliar with what he is actually seeing.
This is the only story in the anthology that isn’t illustrated, since an actual depiction of the Grooglemen would immediately give away what they are, as well as the truth about what’s really going on in the story.
Friendly Persuasion by Bruce Coville
A short, goofy story about a sprite trying to explain to the horrible Ba-Grumpus all the reasons that it shouldn’t eat her.
Kokolimalayas, the Bone Man by Laura Simms
A retelling of a traditional story of the Madoc people of Oregon and Northern California. It's neat seeing a "classic monster" story from a non-European culture.
The Thing That Goes Burp in the Night by Sharon Webb
This is one of those stories where you could easily say that everything is taking place inside the main character’s head. But I like to think the kid really DID summon a chocolate-eating basement monster by reading random medical words out of the Merck Manual, Thirteenth Edition.
Personality Problem by Joe R. Landsdale
Poor Frankenstein’s monster can’t ever catch a break. Not even from his therapist.
Duffy’s Jacket by Bruce Coville
A story with a kind “campfire tale” vibe. Lots of slow build-up to a surprise ending, though this one is more goofy than “it’s right behind you!” jump-scare.
The Bogeyman by Jack Prelutsky
I’ll admit I’m not really big on poetry. But I like the “folksong” feel of this one.
Bloody Mary by Patrick Bone
No, no no! Repeating “Bloody Mary” into the mirror makes her ghost jump out at you. It does not turn you into a hairy, clawed monster! Geez!
The Beast With A Thousand Teeth by Terry Jones
Written by THE Terry Jones of Monty Python fame (and writer for one of my favorite books, the Golbin Companion). According to the biography at the end, this story came from a collection of fairy tales Jones wrote for his young daughter and it definitely shows through the young baker protagonist who figures out a clever way to defeat the titular beast with way too many pointy- and cavity-prone- teeth.
Timor and the Furnace Troll by John Barnes
My favorite story in the bunch. I might even like it more than Coville’s own tales. Poor Timor is terrible at being an elf and constantly gets bullied because of it. When he gets a class assignment to do a report on trolls, he goes to meet the one who lives in the (continent-sized) school’s furnace room and finally finds someone who understands him. Someone who is admittedly an elf-eating 12-foot tall troll.
I like the setting of this story. The way elfland seems like a distorted mirror of contemporary (at least early 90s) society. A sort of “suburban fantasy” taking place among the fresh-mown lawns and flat-roofed, sprawling elementary schools of a middle-class fantasy world. It reminds me of a less dark version of Michael Swanwick’s “The Iron Dragon’s Daughter”.
Anthologies are usually very uneven in quality. Some stories shine. Some fall flat. Some can even be painful to read. Coville’s Book of Monsters maintains pretty high quality overall, though. Even the weakest story- which for me was the very “meh” Bloody Mary- isn’t terrible. It’s quite clear Coville put a lot of careful thought into selecting the tales for his book.
October 16, 2016
Scary Story Reviews!
I didn’t realize until recently, but a lot of my childhood was defined by scary stories. Goosebumps, Are You Afraid of the Dark, Tales From the Crypt (the edited version that aired on basic cable, anyway), TNT’s Monstervision (I can’t be the only one who remembers that, right?), Puppet Master and other Full Moon movies. And of course that classic of “illustrations that scare-the-absolute-crap-out-of-kids”: Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark.
My own son is already starting to follow in my footsteps. He’s only four, but he loves graveyards, skeletons and ghosts (though I’m not entirely sure he knows that they’re the souls of the deceased trapped in the mortal plane, doomed to a purgatory of undeath until they can gain restitution for the wrongs done to them. I, er, probably should wait a while before I tell him about that part...) He’s already watched Nightmare Before Christmas at least a dozen times. It’s only a matter of time until he starts getting into the spooky stories. And luckily I happen to have plenty on hand.
So with that spirit (heh), I’m going to do a series of reviews throughout the Halloween season on some of the scary story anthologies that were such a big part of my life growing up. I’d been hoping to start at the beginning of October, but things got busy for a while. Let’s see how many reviews I can get through before Halloween. Maybe I’ll even go over into November a little. It would be a nice way to fill up that autumn limbo until Thanskgiving.
Anyway, today’s entry is Scary Stories for Sleep-Overs, written by R.C. Welch.
The first cool thing I’d like to point out is that the interior illustrations were done by Ricardo Delgado, writer and illustrator of the amazing Age of Reptiles comic books- a series of wordless tales about the (admittedly somewhat anthropomorphasized) drama and adventures of a group of dinosaurs. Delgado’s drawings in Scary Stories are more subdued and less detailed than his AoR work. But they still have a creepy atmosphere that carries the book well.
The thing that really struck me about these stories as a kid- and even now as an adult- is how nightmarish they are. These are no light, spooky haunted house scares where everyone just runs home and hides under the covers until morning. There’s real dread and danger in these tales. And children are explicitly NOT safe. Most stories end with a nasty fate for the kid protagonists.
Here’s a run-down of the stories.
The Hermit of Collins’ Peak
A strange old man who lives in a shack on the edge of town has become the “boogeyman” for the local kids. Every time anyone gets near his home, he runs out screaming and chases them away. But one day the hermit gets sick and has to be rushed to the hospital, leaving his shack unguarded. So of course a group of kids decide to see what’s inside. The story itself is fairly typical fair, but the twist ending is ambiguous and creepy enough to make it memorable.
Dead Giveaway
One of the less memorable tales, I find. A kid discovers that every time he wishes something nasty on people, they end up getting killed in gruesome ways. The school bully even gets dismembered by lions when he falls into their pit at the zoo after something frightens him. The ultimate cause of their deaths is at least a satisfying twist.
The Gift
This one is a dark take on the “boy learns a lesson about being cruel to animals” tale. The animals, in this case, being the ants in a little farm that he got as an unwanted birthday present. By far one of the best scenes in the whole book is when the insects, fed up with this kid’s shit, build their tunnels to spell out HATE. Pretty goofy reading it as an adult, but a seriously disturbing image when you’re a kid.
A Camping Trip
This one’s the weakest story in the anthology. Sort of a Kid’s Lite version of an 80s slasher film. A bunch of boys go camping. They meet a friendly, forgettable park ranger who disappears right away (foreshadowing!). Their counselor tells them a story about some kids getting killed by a Native American mummy. Someone goes missing in the night and they start a search and, er, that’s basically it.
Oh, also, it’s implied that someone killed the kid. I’ll let you guess who.
Anyway.
Mummy’s Little Helper
Anne keeps hearing a little girl crying for help in the middle of the night. No one else hears it, so she has her friend Robin stay over to help her solve the mystery. Like The Hermit of Collins’ Peak, this one is a classic story with an ending that seriously creeped out second-grade me.
Shadow Play
This story is by far the most frightening one for me, and the main reason this anthology got etched so deeply into my memories.
Like many of the stories, it’s a familiar premise: a young boy is being haunted by living (or maybe not-so-living) shadows that appear in his room every night when the lights go out. Just the mere idea is frightening enough. But the slow, mounting dread really gets to you. That feeling of helplessness against the dark and the things hiding there as they come closer and closer each night. Even as an adult, reading this at 3am in a darkened house (yes, I totally did that to set the mood), it got me spooked.
The Dollhouse
Karen likes to collect miniatures- tiny animals, doll furniture, figurines, etc. While trying to make friends with the shy new girl, Jenny, Karen discovers that she likes miniature things too. Jenny even has a dollhouse at her home with tons of furniture rendered in perfect tiny details, which she offers to show Karen. The ending to this story always reminded me of the “It’s A Good Life” segment from the Twilight Zone movie. The one about the boy with god-like powers. Kids with powers are always freaky in my mind. Because kids can be mean little assholes without even trying, so the last thing you want them to have is control over the fundamental laws of the universe.
Frankenkid
Another mostly forgettable story. A kid builds a robot and (SPOILER) it kills him in the last sentence.
This story is actually memorable for the huge amount of detail the writer puts into describing just how the kid goes about builds his mini-Terminator. Most of the story is about him building the limbs out of an Erector set, making the body out of a breadbox, splicing some wires together, then using a dead lizard as the “battery” or “brain” or something.
So I guess it was the zombie-lizard that killed him? Why you have to be such a jerk, zombie-lizard? The kid made you a freaking mech-suit to tool around in! What are you even going to do with it now? Probably just lie around on a warm rock looking bored until another lizard gets too close, at which point you’ll try to do one of those little push-up things to intimidate them. Except you’re in an awkward robot body, so you’ll probably just tip over and flail around on your metal back like a dumbass.
The Girl of Their Dreams
Two kids keep dreaming about a mysterious girl. Then one day a dad and his daughter move into the house in the old field at the end of the block that’s been abandoned for years. And yeah, the daughter is totally the girl they keep seeing in their dreams. And she invites them to come in, which they accept because they do not know they are in a horror anthology and clearly nothing bad could happen here.
A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
Somebody is killing people in town. Jack says it’s a monster, but Craig thinks that’s stupid, so they end up getting into a fight and being mad at each other because kids will fight over dumb shit. Hence why they should not have god-like powers (see The Dollhouse above).
Craig actually gets an interesting bit of characterization in that he’s unhappy because his parents are always too busy to pay much attention to him. So busy that they can’t even be arsed to pick him up from school when there’s- holy shit! a freaking serial killer on the loose! Assbutts.
Oh, also, Craig’s the stupid one. It’s totally a monster.
The Thrill-Seekers’ Club
A kid needs to go to a cemetery in the middle of the night to steal a flowerpot from a grave so he can get into the titular club. Another spin on a classic ghost story. Especially in the way the undead WAY overreact to someone trespassing in their graveyard at night. Lighten up, guys.
As much as I joke, I really do love this anthology. Like I said- it left quite the impression on young me. Even though the stories are pretty predictable, I realize now that they introduced me to a number of classic horror tropes like the Hermit with a Dark Secret; the Karmic Death from Mistreating Animals; Creepy Supernatural Children, etc.
And those living shadows. Brr.....
My own son is already starting to follow in my footsteps. He’s only four, but he loves graveyards, skeletons and ghosts (though I’m not entirely sure he knows that they’re the souls of the deceased trapped in the mortal plane, doomed to a purgatory of undeath until they can gain restitution for the wrongs done to them. I, er, probably should wait a while before I tell him about that part...) He’s already watched Nightmare Before Christmas at least a dozen times. It’s only a matter of time until he starts getting into the spooky stories. And luckily I happen to have plenty on hand.
So with that spirit (heh), I’m going to do a series of reviews throughout the Halloween season on some of the scary story anthologies that were such a big part of my life growing up. I’d been hoping to start at the beginning of October, but things got busy for a while. Let’s see how many reviews I can get through before Halloween. Maybe I’ll even go over into November a little. It would be a nice way to fill up that autumn limbo until Thanskgiving.
Anyway, today’s entry is Scary Stories for Sleep-Overs, written by R.C. Welch.
The first cool thing I’d like to point out is that the interior illustrations were done by Ricardo Delgado, writer and illustrator of the amazing Age of Reptiles comic books- a series of wordless tales about the (admittedly somewhat anthropomorphasized) drama and adventures of a group of dinosaurs. Delgado’s drawings in Scary Stories are more subdued and less detailed than his AoR work. But they still have a creepy atmosphere that carries the book well.
The thing that really struck me about these stories as a kid- and even now as an adult- is how nightmarish they are. These are no light, spooky haunted house scares where everyone just runs home and hides under the covers until morning. There’s real dread and danger in these tales. And children are explicitly NOT safe. Most stories end with a nasty fate for the kid protagonists.
Here’s a run-down of the stories.
The Hermit of Collins’ Peak
A strange old man who lives in a shack on the edge of town has become the “boogeyman” for the local kids. Every time anyone gets near his home, he runs out screaming and chases them away. But one day the hermit gets sick and has to be rushed to the hospital, leaving his shack unguarded. So of course a group of kids decide to see what’s inside. The story itself is fairly typical fair, but the twist ending is ambiguous and creepy enough to make it memorable.
Dead Giveaway
One of the less memorable tales, I find. A kid discovers that every time he wishes something nasty on people, they end up getting killed in gruesome ways. The school bully even gets dismembered by lions when he falls into their pit at the zoo after something frightens him. The ultimate cause of their deaths is at least a satisfying twist.
The Gift
This one is a dark take on the “boy learns a lesson about being cruel to animals” tale. The animals, in this case, being the ants in a little farm that he got as an unwanted birthday present. By far one of the best scenes in the whole book is when the insects, fed up with this kid’s shit, build their tunnels to spell out HATE. Pretty goofy reading it as an adult, but a seriously disturbing image when you’re a kid.
A Camping Trip
This one’s the weakest story in the anthology. Sort of a Kid’s Lite version of an 80s slasher film. A bunch of boys go camping. They meet a friendly, forgettable park ranger who disappears right away (foreshadowing!). Their counselor tells them a story about some kids getting killed by a Native American mummy. Someone goes missing in the night and they start a search and, er, that’s basically it.
Oh, also, it’s implied that someone killed the kid. I’ll let you guess who.
Anyway.
Mummy’s Little Helper
Anne keeps hearing a little girl crying for help in the middle of the night. No one else hears it, so she has her friend Robin stay over to help her solve the mystery. Like The Hermit of Collins’ Peak, this one is a classic story with an ending that seriously creeped out second-grade me.
Shadow Play
This story is by far the most frightening one for me, and the main reason this anthology got etched so deeply into my memories.
Like many of the stories, it’s a familiar premise: a young boy is being haunted by living (or maybe not-so-living) shadows that appear in his room every night when the lights go out. Just the mere idea is frightening enough. But the slow, mounting dread really gets to you. That feeling of helplessness against the dark and the things hiding there as they come closer and closer each night. Even as an adult, reading this at 3am in a darkened house (yes, I totally did that to set the mood), it got me spooked.
The Dollhouse
Karen likes to collect miniatures- tiny animals, doll furniture, figurines, etc. While trying to make friends with the shy new girl, Jenny, Karen discovers that she likes miniature things too. Jenny even has a dollhouse at her home with tons of furniture rendered in perfect tiny details, which she offers to show Karen. The ending to this story always reminded me of the “It’s A Good Life” segment from the Twilight Zone movie. The one about the boy with god-like powers. Kids with powers are always freaky in my mind. Because kids can be mean little assholes without even trying, so the last thing you want them to have is control over the fundamental laws of the universe.
Frankenkid
Another mostly forgettable story. A kid builds a robot and (SPOILER) it kills him in the last sentence.
This story is actually memorable for the huge amount of detail the writer puts into describing just how the kid goes about builds his mini-Terminator. Most of the story is about him building the limbs out of an Erector set, making the body out of a breadbox, splicing some wires together, then using a dead lizard as the “battery” or “brain” or something.
So I guess it was the zombie-lizard that killed him? Why you have to be such a jerk, zombie-lizard? The kid made you a freaking mech-suit to tool around in! What are you even going to do with it now? Probably just lie around on a warm rock looking bored until another lizard gets too close, at which point you’ll try to do one of those little push-up things to intimidate them. Except you’re in an awkward robot body, so you’ll probably just tip over and flail around on your metal back like a dumbass.
The Girl of Their Dreams
Two kids keep dreaming about a mysterious girl. Then one day a dad and his daughter move into the house in the old field at the end of the block that’s been abandoned for years. And yeah, the daughter is totally the girl they keep seeing in their dreams. And she invites them to come in, which they accept because they do not know they are in a horror anthology and clearly nothing bad could happen here.
A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
Somebody is killing people in town. Jack says it’s a monster, but Craig thinks that’s stupid, so they end up getting into a fight and being mad at each other because kids will fight over dumb shit. Hence why they should not have god-like powers (see The Dollhouse above).
Craig actually gets an interesting bit of characterization in that he’s unhappy because his parents are always too busy to pay much attention to him. So busy that they can’t even be arsed to pick him up from school when there’s- holy shit! a freaking serial killer on the loose! Assbutts.
Oh, also, Craig’s the stupid one. It’s totally a monster.
The Thrill-Seekers’ Club
A kid needs to go to a cemetery in the middle of the night to steal a flowerpot from a grave so he can get into the titular club. Another spin on a classic ghost story. Especially in the way the undead WAY overreact to someone trespassing in their graveyard at night. Lighten up, guys.
As much as I joke, I really do love this anthology. Like I said- it left quite the impression on young me. Even though the stories are pretty predictable, I realize now that they introduced me to a number of classic horror tropes like the Hermit with a Dark Secret; the Karmic Death from Mistreating Animals; Creepy Supernatural Children, etc.
And those living shadows. Brr.....
