Cullen Bunn's Blog, page 38

On the Shelves This Week

This week, you can grab a copy of my Fear Itself one-shot, Fear Itself: FF!

Art by Tom Grummett, Cory Hamscher, Rick Magyar

Colors by Rain Beredo

Cover by Gabriele Dell'Otto

Cover Price: $2.99

Ben Grimm, The Thing… one of the most beloved heroes in the Marvel Universe… is now the willing avatar of the Serpent's malice–an engine of discord cutting an unstoppable path of destruction through the heart of New York City! How did the Serpent's Hammer seduce him so easily? Can the rest of the Future Foundation stop him before he levels the entire city in the name of his dark master?

You can check out a preview of the first six pages on CBR!

Comic-Con International Schedule

This week, I'm heading to Comic-Con International in San Diego. If you're going to be part of the mind-boggling madness, I hope to see you there. I'll be there Wednesday through Sunday (early morning), and my signing and panel schedule is below.

Wednesday

5:30 – 9:00 – Signing at Oni Press (Booth 1833)

Thursday

10:00 – 12:00 - Signing at Oni Press (Booth 1833)

3:00 – 4:00 – Signing at Marvel

4:00 – 6:00 - Signing at Oni Press (Booth 1833)

Friday

10:00 – 12:00 - Signing at Oni Press (Booth 1833)

1:00 – 2:00 – Oni Press Panelmonium 2011

4:00 – 6:00 – Signing at Oni Press (Booth 1833)

Saturday

10:00 – 11:00 – Signing at Oni Press (Booth 1833)

11:00 – 12:00 – Signing at Marvel

4:00 – 6:00 – Signing at Oni Press (Booth 1833)

Note: While I'm signing with Oni Press, I will have a limited number of advance copies of Crooked Hills, my middle reader horror novel from Earwig Press, for sale!

Countless Haints, Pt. 1

Her earliest memories were of the taste of freshly turned earth and the bleating of goats.

* * *

"Pa?" Madrigal asked.  "You know what tomorrow is, don't you?"

"Of course."  Her father settled back in the creaking chair and placed his opened Bible upon his knee to hold his place.  He drew deep on his pipe, and the sweet-smelling smoke plumed around his bald, sun-spotted head.  "Can't say as I'd rightly forget."

Madi sat upon the hardwood floor, her legs drawn up close, her chin resting upon her knees.  The house was silent, except for their voices, the groan of Pa's chair, and the ticking of the wall clock as it counted the seconds until …

"I'll be almost a woman grown."

"Almost."  Pa's eyes glittered in the lamplight.  "You in such a hurry to grow up and leave your old father alone?"

"I ain't planning on leaving any time soon.  Where would I go?  You reckon I should march down to Ahmen's Landing and marry me the first fisherman's son I fancy?"

"Say you won't."

"Don't fret."  Madi smiled devilishly.  "I'll go at least far as Nag's Head before I find me a fella."

"That's good."  Pa nodded and returned to his Bible.  "A girl ought to have standards."

Madi rolled her eyes at him, but let the matter drop.

The quiet rushed in to flood the house.  The quiet.  Madi sometimes thought of it as a living, breathing thing.  And while the girl usually enjoyed being alone with her thoughts, tonight she felt as if the silence might smother her.  The room, the house, the entire farm seemed too small.

Tomorrow, she would be seventeen.  There would be no celebration, no gifts or cake, but Pa would wish her a happy birthday come sunup and, if he followed suit from previous years, let her skip her chores for the day.  Maybe she would take a walk into town, but probably not to look for boys.  She wanted a love like she read about in her books—something straight out of Wuthering Heights or Pride and Prejudice or Romeo and Juliet—and she doubted any one of the dirt- or salt-crusted young men from around these parts would be able to oblige.  But she wouldn't mind seeing the sights Ahmen's Landing had to offer.  She knew there were bigger and more exciting places in the world, but to a girl who almost never set foot off the farm on which she was born, even a tiny fishing village seemed exotic and fanciful.

But she knew better than to entertain the thought for long.  Joking aside, Pa would never let her go into town by herself.  She doubted he would approve of her going into town on any occasion or under any circumstances.

She watched him from across the dimly lit room.  His face was lean and weathered, with deep creases in his flesh that seemed to snare the shadows and hold them prisoner.  His eyes were deep set and weary.  His lips trembled as he quietly read his scriptures, just as he did every night before bed.  Sometimes, when Madi looked at him, she barely recognized him, as if she couldn't believe she was his own flesh and blood.

Her mother, on the other hand, had died when Madi was only a baby, and the girl didn't remember her at all.

"Pa?" she said, "I've been thinking."

"Yes?"  He placed the Bible upon his knee again.  "What is it, Madi?"

"I been thinking … about a name for the new calf."

"Unh huh."

"I like the name Hanan."

"What's that now?"

"Hanan."  Madi smiled.  "The name's kinda…"

"Where'd you hear 'o that?  Ol' man 'Riah been talkin' on?"  He was off his seat—his face pale and his hands knotted into fists—and the good book fell to the floor with a thump.  "Well, out with it!"

Madi's eyes lingered on the fallen book.

"…The Bible.  It's a name from the Bible, Pa."  She looked down and fell silent.  She didn't know why her father, normally so soft-spoken and gentle, had grown so angry.  She'd certainly seen him agitated on occasion. It was a hard life, a farmer's, and sometimes it took its toll, but never before had his ire been directed at her.

"The Bible."  He, too, looked at the book, and a splash of mottled red washed his cheeks.  His shoulders slumped.  His voice softened.  "The Bible.  That's it?"

"Yes, Pa."

"Well—"  He licked his lips and spoke carefully. He was obviously embarrassed by not recognizing a name straight from the pages he read so often.  "—that ain't the point. The point is, ya gotta stop naming every blessed, livin' thing on this farm. A cow don't need a name, especially a bull.  You wouldn't go a-naming the grape vines, would ya, nor the shrimp we net, and them things are a sight more important to us than a cow or a hen.  Sometimes creatures are best left to their ways. No sense in making 'em out like something they ain't."

"Yes, Pa. I didn't mean…"

"It's done and over now."  His bones popped as he leaned over and grabbed the Bible from the floor.  "Let's not worry on it any longer."

*  *  *

Madrigal dreamed of the tree upon the hill.

Shrouded in runaway scuppernong vines, the tall, grey oak cast its bent shadow across the valley and scratched with spindly branches at the sky.  Years ago, or so Madi had been told, the oak had been struck by lightning during one of the summer squalls that blew in from the east.  The tree had not grown an inch since, and a rotting hollow now yawned in the trunk.  The cavity had been filled to keep the blight from spreading, but the effort had proven futile, the decaying wood pulling away from the concrete filling like gums receding from old, blunted teeth.

In the dream, the maw trembled and smacked, the tree groaning and spitting out mouthfuls of crumbling cement.

In the dream, Madi tried to gather up the bits of rubble, all the while muttering, "Oh no, no, Pa will be so angry."

But the tree, its mouth no longer gagged, did not care if the old farmer was angered or not.  The draping grape vines rustled with a sound like whispered secrets; the oak's grit-encrusted lips quivered; and the mouth, running up and down rather than side to side, opened and closed and growled.

"Lies," the tree said, "Lies."

In the dream, lightning sizzled across the blackening sky, bright as witch's fire.

*  *  *

Madi woke and sat up in bed.  Even though the night was warm and the cramped room was stuffy, she drew the patchwork blanket up close.  Moonlight trickled in through the bedside window, painting the room in an eerie blue haze—the color, or so she'd always thought, of haints.  They were all around her, crowding close to her bed, watching her.  Countless haints.

She looked out the bedside window and gathered the covers even closer.

The vineyard's wire trellises, already heavy with leaves and grape clusters, climbed the hill.  At the summit stood the crooked oak in stark silhouette, its black branches spread out and vanishing into the night, as if growing into the darkness itself.

She hated that tree, and she feared it, too.

Feared its secrets.

An echo of the dream rattled around in Madi's head, and she spoke the words in a hushed whisper.

"Lies."

The Return of Countless Haints

Here we go again.

Those of you who have followed the ups and downs of this blog for a while may remember the online serialized novel I posted every now and then. Countless Haints is the story of witchcraft, ghosts, and fate set in and around the fictional town of Ahmen's Landing, North Carolina. A few months back, I lost everything on this site, and that threw a little bit of a monkey wrench into the project. Well, the time's come to give it another go. I've managed to recover and reformat the previous posts, and I'll start republishing them over the next few weeks. Once we've all caught up, I'll continue to post a new "chapter" every week.

Thanks for your patience and understanding.

The first section of the novel goes live later day.

Weekend Update 7-17-2011

It's been a while since I posted anything… but I have a whole bunch of good reasons.

I'm just not allowed to talk about them yet.

For those of you who know me, you realize that this is killing me. I hate keeping secrets, especially about projects I'm really excited about. But I definitely don't want to jinx anything. I can give you a couple of hints, but they're gonna be pretty vague at this point.

A few minutes ago, I sent the script to the fourth issue of a new comic book project to my editors. This is a pretty big deal for me, and I'll be really happy when I can talk a little more about it. As of this writing, I've seen several pages of artwork from the illustrator, and it's really awesome stuff.

I'm also preparing to start scripting issues four and five of an unannounced limited series. Again, the artwork I've seen on this thing has just blown me out of the water.

In addition, I'm gearing up to begin scripting a new creator-owned limited series with Oni Press. We've been working on getting an artist lined up for the book, and it sounds like that's falling into place. What can I say about this one? Well, it's a dark—the closest thing to true horror (but with a twist, of course) I've done in comics.

As for The Sixth Gun, I just completed the script for issue 18. Skipping ahead for various reasons, I'm writing issue 23. I should have that issue wrapped up in a week or so.

In the next few days, I'll be tackling some more prose work, too, including a return to "Countless Haints."

So, all in all, I've been pretty busy.

This week, I'm heading to San Diego for Comic-Con International. I plan on getting as much work as possible done while I'm there (usually while waiting in airports, flying in planes, and in the early morning or late night hours). I'll be posting a signing schedule shortly.

In the meantime, here are a couple of things you might have missed:

First up, Jason Aaron and I talked a little about my transition to a full-time writer. Give it a read if you're into that sort of thing or need to get to sleep quickly.

Secondly, I recently wrote a guest spot on Nexus Graphica that's all about the weird western stuff you should be reading.

Get to it, hombres.

I recently did a signing tour of all the Fantasy Shop stores in St. Louis. As much as I love signings, they always end in violence and boffer weapon bloodshed.

Creeping Stones and Other Stories

Here's an announcement I'm pretty excited about! Early next year, the first of two (and maybe more?) short story collections will be released by EvilEye Books.

Evileye Books to Publish Two-Volume Set of Short Stories by Acclaimed Horror Writer, Cullen Bunn

First collection, "Creeping Stones and Other Stories," to debut in February 2012. Individual stories to appear digitally leading up to book's release.

(CRYSTAL LAKE, IL) — Cullen Bunn's mind is the restless sort, with a seemingly unbound curiosity and speculative imagination. He has written about Prohibition-era demons; weird Western tales of supernatural six-shooters; an Ozarks town haunted by a child-eating witch; and even a killer tooth!

Beginning this fall, Mr. Bunn turns his attention to the short story form. "Creeping Stones and Other Stories" is the first volume of a two-collection deal between Mr. Bunn and Evileye Books. Featuring fourteen stories, "Creeping Stones" presents horror yarns that explore themes of loss and the cost of redemption.

"Zombies and vampires are great," said Mr. Bunn, "but with these stories, I wanted to explore different facets of horror and the supernatural—the emotional and psychological damage speculative fiction rarely explores these days."

"Creeping Stones" marks Mr. Bunn's first formal collection of stories, and will be made available in various editions including digital formats for the Kindle, Nook and iBooks ebook platforms; trade paperback; and in the future, a limited hardcover edition.

The second volume in the set will be titled, "A Passage in Black and other Stories," and will feature eight stories and two novellas. The collection will debut in 2013.

Beginning in August, as a lead-in to the launch of "Creeping Stones," Evileye Books will release 1-2 stories per month in digital format for the Kindle, Nook and iBooks platforms, and will include bonus materials that will not be made available in the collected edition.

"From the first planning discussions," said A. Nathaniel Ommus, Editor of Evileye Books, "the idea has always been to reward Cullen's fans by making his literary work available more often than once a year or bi-annually, as happens with most novels and longer works of fiction. By introducing key stories from the collection as standalone publications, we satisfy his readers's thirst for his storytelling, but also reward them with added material not found elsewhere."

The standalone stories debuting digitally will feature custom covers, excerpts from future works, interviews, profiles and behind-the-scenes peeks. Standalone short story editions will retail ninety-nine cents.

Pricing for the formal collected editions will be made available in late fall.

For more information, stay tuned to the Eyewire.

My Favorite Sixth Gun Cover

I've been accused of saying that EVERY cover of The Sixth Gun is my favorite. But that's not true. Up until now, my favorite cover has been issue 3 (featuring General Hume and Missy). But the cover to issue 15 (out in August) absolutely takes the cake. It's simply gorgeous and it perfectly teases the story within.

Your Chance to Win Hand-Made Totems from The Tooth!

Face front, horror hounds!

You like free stuff! You know you do! We know you do! We also know that you love THE TOOTH with an almost unwholesome intensity! And like a bikini-clad genie from the Magic Lamp of Azorial*, we are here to grant your wish!

This is your chance to own a one-of-a-kind piece of memorabilia from THE TOOTH! How one-of-a-kind, you ask? Well, these things are almost genuinely unique!

We're talking about a set of hand-made** Inert Caleb King Demon and Extra-Dimensional Marauder Totems®! These finely-crafted gems*** are "pretty darn close" replicas of the totems featured in issue 35 of THE TOOTH ("Death Duel in the Dentist's Domain"). Do they have magical properties? Well, that depends on how you define magic, my friend, just as one-of-a-kind is open to interpretation. Believe us when we say there are very, very few of these sets running around, and this one comes with a Certificate of Awesomticity****!

How do you score this piece of comic book history?

Simple! The Tooth isn't much of a social creature, but you—dear reader—can be. All you have to do is post a review, fanfic, pun, photo, artwork, poem, or other love (be creative) on one (or all) of the following places: 

Amazon (make sure to drop us a line through this page's contact form so we know you're participating
Goodreads (make sure to drop us a line through this page's contact form so we know you're participating)
Twitter (make sure to tag the post #thesavagetooth so we can see it)
Facebook (make sure to tag Cullen Bunn, Shawn Lee, and Matt Kindt)
Your Blog (or any other blog for that matter) (again, make sure to drop us a line so we can see what you've done)

On July 20, 2011–right before San Diego Comic Con–we'll select one participant at random to receive the set of totems! Please keep in mind, we'll only consider posts made after this announcement in the contest.

You can do one or all of the above. If you do more than one of the above items, we'll put your name in the hat for each time you do something.

Finally! Take a picture of your dentist reading THE TOOTH and post it somewhere for all to see and we'll enter your name a whopping 10 times! And make sure this guy looks like a dentist. Don't just take a picture of your dad (unless he is a dentist) reading the book and say, "This is Dr. Jones when he's off-duty, eating chili, and watching Campus Cops." We want some visual proof that this is a real tooth-yanker! 

That's all there is to it!

Get out there and start spreading the love!

Good luck!

*As seen in JOURNEY INTO TERROR #116.

**Hand-made by THE TOOTH co-writer Shawn Lee out of Sculpy or some other esoteric substance. No two sets look exactly alike. The set pictured is the personal set of one of the authors. 

***Not real gems… and not really "finely" crafted.

****Lovingly printed on an ink-jet printer of your choice… and by "your choice" we mean whichever printer isn't bone-dry when it comes to ink.

It's Clobbering Time! (For Real)

Marvel has posted some preview pages of the upcoming Fear Itself: FF.  I was able to channel the destructive nature of giant monsters and the tragic nature of the Universal Monsters into this tale. In other words, it was a lot of fun to write! Illustrated by Thomas Grummett and Cory Hamscher (and with a cover by Gabriele Dell'Otto), this is one fine-looking superheroic epic! Check it out… and make sure to snag a copy of the book when it comes out in early August!

The Sixth Gun – The Original Proposal

Drake is a ruthless murderer?

Becky has a little brother?

No horsemen?

No General Hume even though Missy Hume is prominently involved?

I've often commented on how much The Sixth Gun changed between my earliest pitch and its eventual execution. My original idea was much darker and much smaller. I'm glad I took a vastly different approach to the series. It's stronger now and the range of stories I can tell is much, much broader. Still, I think about that original concept from time to time. Reading over the earliest materials now, I can see where the seeds were planted for the book it would become. The second trade paperback (collecting issues 7 – 11) comes out this week. It's a story I wouldn't have been able to tell if I hadn't changed directions a bit. But in celebration of the book's release, I'd thought I'd share a look at "what might have been."

The following is the original proposal for the series. I haven't changed a word of it, and some of it is, I'll admit, a little cringe-worthy.

The Sixth Gun

A Proposal for a Limited Series

By Cullen Bunn

The Setup

The year is 1887.  Thirty years ago, the Devil gifted a band of ruthless killers with six pistols.  Each pistol possessed its own special power, making the man or woman who wielded it almost unstoppable.  In an effort to steal all the guns for himself, one of the gang–Drake Sinclair–murdered his companions in cold blood.  But the sixth gun was lost and presumed destroyed.  Now, the killer finds that the gun still exists … and it is in the possession of children. 

The Characters  

Drake Sinclair

Sinclair should be an old man, but the power of the guns keeps him young.  He cuts a dashing figure, dark, handsome, clad in fine clothing, and he could pass for a gentleman.  But he is a ruthless killer who murdered his "friends" years ago.

Reverend Oliver Leeds

Leeds believes his mission calls for him to do more than preach.  He sees himself as the sword of God, and he is taking the fight to those he sees as evil.

Becky Montcrief

Sixteen year old Becky always dreamed of a romantic life, complete with a dashing, fairytale hero who would sweep her off her feet.  Instead, she has seen nothing but hard times and misery.  When Sinclair comes looking for the gun that is in her possession, she embarks on a harrowing race for survival. 

Jacob Montcrief

Becky's little brother.  All of eleven years old and more headstrong than an old mule.  In many ways he looks towards his sister as the mother he never knew. 

Zeb Montcrief

A cruel, worthless man who stole the Sixth Gun off a dead body years ago. 

Missy Hume

The elderly woman who sets this tale into motion.  She longs for the bygone days of youth and beauty, and she's willing to do anything to recapture her glory years.

Old Scratch

The Devil appears to those who carry the guns he created, appearing to wash over the features of the living in order to tempt his prey.  But when the guns he created have taken 666 lives, the Devil will be free to walk the Earth.

The Breakdown

Our story begins as Drake Sinclair steps into a boomtown tavern.  He's come looking for blood, having been hired by Missy Hume to track down and slay a man.  When a gunfight breaks out, we witness the awful power of one of Drake's pistols, as everyone struck—even those suffering only a grazing wound—begins to rot and wither away, like thousand-year-old corpses.  Drake fights his way out of the town (killing dozens of innocents in the process) and rides off to collect his reward.  Little does he know he's being watched by Missy Hume's agents.

Hume pays the hired gun, but she makes him another offer.  The only reason she hired him in the first place was to see if the weapons he used were, in fact, the Devil's Guns.  She knows that one of the weapons can grant the wielder youth—a year for every life taken—and she wants the pistol for herself.  In return, she will tell Drake the location of the sixth gun, a weapon he thought destroyed long ago.  Drake doesn't trust her, but he agrees to accompany the old woman and a band of hired guns in search of the last man known to have possession of the sixth gun—Zeb Montcrief. 

Zeb is a disgusting, abusive man who has squandered his life and vents his frustration on his children.  When he attacks his daughter, Becky, he is killed by Jacob with the old pistol the man keeps under his mattress.  Becky takes the gun from her brother, and they bury their father's corpse in the woods.  Little do they know that their father's old six gun is actually a weapon forged by the Devil.  Fearing the law will come after them, they pack up their belongings and flee.  As they travel the world, they encounter visions of the Devil, Old Scratch, which seem to "wash" over the people they meet on the road.  Old Scratch urges them to perform horrible acts.

Meanwhile, Drake and Missy find themselves harried by Reverend Oliver Leeds and his posse.  The Reverend knows about Drake and wants to see him brought down.  "The law might not be able to stop him," the Reverend says, "but I answer to a higher power."  After a bloody encounter with the Reverend and his men, Missy (who has been using one of Drake's guns) is becoming younger.  They elude the Reverend and continue on their quest to retrieve the final gun, never realizing that children now possess such a terrible artifact.  Along the way, Missy becomes addicted to the rush of renewed youth, and she kills as many people as possible to become beautiful once more. 

Drake, Missy, and the Reverend have several encounters, but Drake continues to escape.  As they discover that children have the sixth gun, Drake kills Missy and the last of her men and goes after Becky and Jacob on his own.  He almost catches them, but they manage to escape.

As Drake closes in on the children once more, he is attacked by the Reverend.  Drake and the Reverend are both wounded in the fight, but Drake escapes once more.  He catches up with Becky and Jacob, but before he can kill them, the awful power of the sixth gun manifests.  All the people who have ever been killed by the weapon stagger out of the shadows—the hideous undead that rip Drake apart. 

Becky and Jacob are now in possession of all six pistols.  Old Scratch appears before them, making promises in return for their loyalty.  Becky aims one of the pistols at him.

"That won't do you any—"

She pulls the trigger, shooting the Devil right between the eyes.  He staggers and topples backwards.

Becky and Jacob gather up the guns and turn away from the grisley scene.  As they walk into the distance, we see Drake's body clamor to its feet and stagger after them.  Only one body remains on the bloody ground—the Reverend, with a bullet hole right between his eyes.