Rebecca Jones-Howe's Blog, page 3

“In His Hands” Now Out in THE CROW’S QUILL!

There’s no more denying it, summer fans. Fall doesn’t start until the end of the month, but nobody cares. It’s officially autumn. Now, I’m not much of a pumpkin spice girl because I’m a Type 1 Diabetic and fucking Starbucks hates me and will not stock a dang sugar-free pumpkin spice syrup. This Skinny Mixes Pumpkin Praline Pie syrup is my top recommendation for you home coffee peeps. Fortunately, you don’t need to spend money or indulge in ridiculous pumpkin shit to appreciate fall. You can just crack open a free magazine and curl up with some good witchy stories in the new Witches & Cauldrons issue of The Crow’s Quill.

This issue features my brand new Salem Witch Trials-inspired serial killer cuckold story, “In His Hands”, so allow me to tempt you with a little excerpt. You can also check out the “In His Hands” moodboard for inspiration, my writing process, the playlist, and more!

In His Hands

An Excerpt

Usually, when Giles found a woman alone in the woods, he tackled them to the ground and had his way. Forearm to throat, he’d lean over their defeated figures. Their eyes begged and pleaded, only to bulge when their dying gasps acknowledged that he was not a good man. He kissed them after, and arranged sticks around them. 

Witch’s victims, the town thought.

Dorcas was different. She hissed and scratched. She called him evil, called him vile. She ripped hair from his scalp and he smashed her head against a rock in response. She sank, eyes closed, not acknowledging him at all. A crow called from the tree above. It cocked its head, curious.

Giles carried Dorcas home in darkness. She woke when he bound her in the cellar. She didn’t beg or plead. She just curled herself into the fetal position, whimpering in wait. 

Giles fell asleep to the sound. 

By morning, her name slipped through the village. The people all prayed in circles, hoping she’d be found safe.

On the third day, Giles heard scrambling in the cellar. He climbed down the rickety wooden steps with his lantern, stirring his hostage awake. A black rat squeaked. Dorcas glanced at the creature before lifting her gaze to meet his. She curled herself into the corner, her skirts twisting up her legs, revealing the blood she’d spilled at the moon’s call.

Giles stepped back, trampling the rat beneath his boot. Its shriek of death clawed at his insides. 

“Please do not look upon my shame,” Dorcas begged, tugging at the stained linen.

He hurried back up the steps and brought her a bowl of water, a cloth, a tunic. He gave her the lantern and locked her away, giving her time to cleanse the blood from her skin.

Like what you read?

Check out THE CROW’S QUILL to read the rest!

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MOODBOARD: “In His Hands”

I’ve got a lot on my plate and have been taking whatever free time I have on my hand to both chill the fuck out and also get some shit done. Both these things are nearly impossible when I’m on my day off and trying to find me time in a house full of screaming kids, but here we are. It’s another month. I’ve got another story called “In His Hands” to tell you about and it comes out in the new “witches & cauldrons” issue of The Crow’s Quill on September 1st. So let me tell you all about “In His Hands” in this new moodboard, because this story is uh…it’s something else.

“In His Hands” Premise

In a 17th century village, hangman Giles spends his days hanging witches. At night, he moonlights as a vicious serial killer, only to find his behavioural patterns disrupted when he is unable to kill his latest victim, a young woman named Dorcas.

Some 17th Century Movies

Like many, I found myself watching the 3-part Fear Street movie series earlier this summer. I did review the first film but failed to keep up with the rest because IT HAS BEEN THE WORST SUMMER OF MY LIFE in BC, and I just…I had to cut myself some slack. Anyway, I did also enjoy Part 2, but Part 3 was even more fun for me because I always live for some good old-timey village aesthetic.

My only qualm with the 1666 setting was some of the historical inaccuracies. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was never gonna be like Mad Men-levels of purity to the time period. I just like being bitchy about this kind of stuff.

But you know what 17th century film IS known for being historically accurate that I still hadn’t watched up until that point? The VVitch. So, one faithful night I gave myself a night off writing and I finally got up the courage to watch it. I went in knowing it didn’t have a lot of the standard scares expected of most horror films but my gosh I loved everything about The VVitch. The isolation? The restrictive binds of the family’s faith? The ultimate impending dread of how everything unwinds? That line, “Wouldn’st thou like to live deliciously?” It all inspired the crap out of me.

And so I set to write my own 17th century witch hunt story.

My New Obsession with Puritanical Salem Village

After my son was born I got way into witch hunt documentaries. There aren’t many available online, but they proved a fascinating watch, particularly this one, which is old and cheesy but I thought they managed to blend the dramatizations and the factual interludes into a pretty engaging watch.

There’s a lot of lore and stereotypes behind the Salem Witch Trials but what I love most is diving into just how royally messed up the Puritans could be, and just how many of those condemning values still hold strong significance in modern American culture.

One of my favourite subjects about dissenting what caused the hysteria behind the witch hunt was the original girls who started breaking out into spasms. Many theorize that the kids simply couldn’t handle both the expectations of them, as well as the pretty terrifying goings-on around them.

Another thing I like about this documentary, in particular, is the illustrated effect they create of the village itself. I friggin’ love colonial houses. They’re so cute and just evoke the witchy aesthetic so well. “In His Hands” doesn’t really focus a lot on architecture, but I did submerge myself in a lot of old Salem images for the sake of keeping the time period cemented in my head.

Yet Another “Kidnapping” Story…

You all know that I have with weird love of kidnapping stories. Or stories with devious dudes in them. I do like stories that follow serial killers (except for some reason I have no desire to watch You, because when I read the book synopsis back in the day, it just… it felt too blunt with its whole “dude obsessed with a woman” concept).

Giles in this case, is both a killer at work and a killer at home. He was inspired a bit by Patrick Bateman, but you know, a 17th century Patrick Bateman. I did try to do a little research on the actual dude (or dudes) who did the hanging during the actual Salem witch trials but that’s something even the experts have no idea about.

…About A “Vile” Man

At its core, the story is yet another story about an insecure man who feels faceless in his own community. He tries his damdest to be seen and heard and to receive accolades for his evil deeds. By the end of the story, he realizes that he’s not really much of a Ted Bundy after all.

A Touch of Humour

One thing that I like to add to most of my “beta male” stories, as I often refer to my fiction about men, is a bit of humour. They often come off tongue-in-cheek and transgressive, as my minimalist origins would have me tell these tales.

This time around, well, I was writing in the gothic genre. Honestly, embracing this genre has done a lot for me. Many agents who rejected my novel often said it had some gothic feel. I haven’t touched the thing since that last rejection. Since then, I’ve written 6 stories for Quill & Crow Publishing House. With every one, I feel like I take one of my story themes, toss it into a time period, and am forced to make it goth. (“Woman of the White Cottage” was about female sexuality. “The Fruits of Wartime” was about the thrill of a dangerous relationship. “Little Black Death” was essentially a breakup story. (They keep asking me for stuff and it’s been the most thrilling challenge to write these stories. They’ve been nothing but amazing and supportive to me, too!)

“In His Hands” is, well, both a kidnapping story and a cuckold story, but uh… you’ll just have to read it to find out what I’m talking about. I had all these elements to cram together and didn’t think I’d manage to compact it all into a 2000 word-limit. But I managed. I feel good about it.

Maybe soon I can get back to giving The View From the Basement its proper goth rewrite.

Want to read “In His Hands”?

Keep your eyes peeled to The Crow’s Quill. The September issues drops, of course, on September 1st and has a “Witches & Cauldrons” theme. I’m a regular contributor now, so if you missed my story, “Little Black Death” in the August issue, you can still go back enjoy my first embarking to writing gothic fiction in a restrictive short format.

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THE HOUSE OF FAND – A Vintage Gothic Suspense Review

When I first dove into the world of gothic suspense paperbacks, I was half-drunk after a bath and in need to buy something. I stumbled over ebay and hastily spent 12 of my hard-earned Canadian dollars on this glorious paperback, complete with a glorious holographic title. It became the first book in what will hopefully be my amazing collection of gothic paperbacks.

So let’s review The House of Fand by Anne Maybury. This one is considered a “romantic suspense”, which I figured was a good place to start, considering that I was hoping to read about a sexy yet unsavoury dude. The back cover promises this and more:

A YOUNG BRIDE FINDS HERSELF ON A TERRIFYING HONEYMOON OF DANGER AND DECEIT!

Karen Fand should have been happy. She was embarking on her honeymoon with Philip Dugald, who had wooed—and won—her in a lighting-fast blaze of intense attention.

Too late Karen realizes how little she knows of the stranger who is her husband. Too late she finds herself suffocating in a quicksand of menace. There in her ancestral home Karen comes face-to-face with evil: someone wants to destroy all living links with the past. Fear becomes Karen’s companion as she fights desperately to outwit Death.

Judging the Cover

I have to because that’s essentially why I decided to start this entire “Trashy Gothic Suspense” review series. This one’s got the standard mansion with its single-lit window. The colours really drew me in. I love the cool blue and green hues with the dark house and trees.

The woman dons a rather lovely dress by my standards. I quite like a good 70s maxi with a high neck. This dress is a simple pretty cream with a high neck, tight wrist with Victorian-inspired ruffles. 10 out of 10 would buy if I could get my hands on one. I also love that the woman’s got some pretty copper hair, which contrasts with the cool tones of the background in that very modern theatrical filtered look that is so hot right now.

This book was published in 1966, and its cover features so much aesthetic from the era (or at least, what I know to be the aesthetic from my Mad Men viewing). I love the title font and the fact that it’s also holographic silver, triggering that V.C. Andrews aesthetic appreciation.

The House of Fand : The “Gothic Trash” Review

We start things off in Rome, where our leading lady Karen packs her backs after her honeymoon with her new husband, Philip, a young doctor from Australia that she met in Nice, France. Karen was in Nice to open a salon for her grandmother’s beauty company, which has the same name as the book’s title, The House of Fand. While there, she ate dinner, only to receive a call from her grandmother (and badass boss bitch), Rowena Fand.

This being a time before cell phones, Karen had to get up to take the call at the hotel’s admin desk, only to knock over her martini in the process. Upon returning, she found that Philip had cleaned the spill and purchased her a new drink. They talk. They fall in love. Then they get married a literal week later, and as she packs to return to England, Karen stumbles upon a letter that her grandmother’s written, which pretty much scorns her for marrying a man she just met.

Normally, I’d put a gif of Elsa from the “You can’t marry a man you just met” scene in Frozen, but apparanetly Disney likes to copyright all their shit and I can’t find an embeddable gif of that for the life of me!

Enter the Dark and Brooding Husband

Philip enters the room while Karen’s reading and she quickly shoves the letter under one of her blouses. What follows is a pretty enticing first interaction between the two, which pretty much solidifies the entire dynamic of their relationship:

“What’s the secret?”

“Secret?” I tried to make my voice sound innocent.

His chin rested on top of my head, his eyes fixed on the suitcase. “Whatever it was you pushed in there so that I wouldn’t see?”

“A skeleton,” I said lightly and scrambled to my feet. “The one I keep in my cupboard.”

Quickly he bent down and felt between the silk folds of my blouse.

My hand shot out, reaching for the letter. “Please don’t read it,” I begged.

He loosened my fingers. “I am a jealous man,” he said, still smiling. His eyes were a deep gold in the evening light. He waved the sheet of notepaper a little above my head, eyebrows lifted in question.

“It’s from my grandmother,” I explained, “and it is my letter, Philip.”

He turned it over and looked at the signature. Then he tossed it back onto the yellow blouse and drew me close. “I don’t want to read it.” His tone was laconic. “I can guess what your grandmother says. She hates me on principle, doesn’t she?”

page 9

I love this passage. I love everything about it. This passage is my jam and everything I want in a story with a devious dude in it. Karen also mentions having a dream about a “faceless stranger” who was chasing her, and then spends the rest of the chapter feeling awful about betraying her position in her grandmother’s company to marry Philip. It’s foreshadowing AF, but the dialogue sequences between Karen and Philip are pretty good decent writing, IMO.

Back to England

Karen and Philip fly to England and meet Karen’s younger sister Suzy at the airport. Immediately, Suzy mentions that “Max is back.” This shocks Karen, as she was not warned of this in her grandmother’s letter. Max is Karen’s old sweetheart and also a trusted part of The House of Fand. He married a few years back to a horrible woman named Polly and then moved with her to Canada to oversee a bunch of foreign company stuff for Rowena.

But then Polly died and now Max is back in England. Suzy takes Karen and Philip back to their childhood home, Lyonnesse Terrace. Again, Karen is shocked with the new revelation that her grandmother bought the dead neighbour’s house and has made some kind of adjoining door to the two homes. Now, Max lives in the neighbour’s house and has access to Rowena’s place.

Rowena also has a new gardener named Hannibal. Now, this book predates Thomas Harris’s Hannibal but even Karen gets all wary about the gardener’s name while the family reunites. Then Karen introduces her boss bitch grandmother to Philip. It goes better than expected, as Rowena invites Philip to tour the facility of a competing beauty brand, Tara’s, that Rowena is interested in purchasing. Philip goes and immediately returns with the suggestion that he join the business.

Karen Receives A Call

Later on, while in their room, Karen gets a phone call from a mysterious stranger with a soft voice:

The stranger suggests that Karen’s “beautiful rich world is about to collapse around [her]”. There’s a bit more sinister Scream-style banter between them. Karen loses her wits, but eventually, the man hangs up. Philip enters the room and Karen relays the events, only for him to insist that she isn’t alone and that he’s her husband and he can take care of everything.

Later, when the family is out on the terrace again, the new servant Greta spots Max and goes cold. She locks herself in her room and refuses to come out. The next morning, she leaves a letter:

Dear Madam,

I couldn’t stay once I saw him. I was too scared. I can’t say who because I know how mad he’d get if I said I know him. Please don’t find out where I am because he mustn’t know.

Yours very truly,
Greta.

page 51

This is where Karen starts to do some sleuthing. First, she goes out for lunch with Max, asking him if he knows Greta. He claims he doesn’t, but later, when Karen relays her new information to Philip, all Philip can do is wonder about Max, (who we’ll get to later, because, as Philip said earlier, he is a jealous man). Karen manages to find Greta’s house and knocks, only to be confronted by Greta’s mother, who tells Karen to leave Greta the hell alone and that Karen might as well worry about “her own troubles”.

Two Untrustworthy Dudes

One thing I love about The House of Fand is that there are two dudes for Karen to pine after. Of course, we have Philip, who remains sketchy AF but oddly horny. The first third of the book shows a few scenes where Philip attempts to bone Karen, only for somebody to enter the room and give him major blue balls. and

Then, we have Max, who Karen keeps insisting just loves minding the family business. Philip keeps asking Karen why in the world he would return to England when he had a great post in Canada, but Karen doesn’t budge on her assumptions of Max, even after all the Greta stuff.

Later, Max goes on a few dates with Suzy (Karen’s younger sister). Karen likes the idea of the two getting married, but then it’s later revealed that Suzy’s been dating her friend Darius, an artist with no money who forces Suzy to beg Karen to ask Rowena to fund an art exhibition for his shitty sculptures (of which we never get a good description of!). Midway into the novel, Suzy calls to say that Darius has hit her and won’t let her leave the house. Karen and Max team up to save her, and in the fiasco, this happens:

[Darius] looked at me and then at Max. “You’re having a fine time, aren’t you, taking it out on me because you made a mess of things?”

Max turned slowly around. The look in his eyes was dangerous.

Darius picked up a piece of wood and began slapping the palm of his hand with it. “Oh, don’t think your affairs are so secret. I know all about them. You see, Suzy talks.”

“I’m glad. I didn’t think she was dumb.”

“You had your eye on the other one, didn’t you? On Karen? Only you, unfortunately, had a wife. And now, just because you came back to England and found the girl you wanted married to someone else, you poke your nose into other men’s affairs through pique. What’s behind it? Are you hoping that, having lost one girl, you think you can catch her sister by doing a rescue act? And does the girl matter as much as what she stands for? Could it be perhaps a—er—take-over bid? Suzy Fand—and big business?”

Max did not put all his power behind his punch. He just shot his fist out, touched Darius’s jaw and down he went, sprawling in the grey dust.

page 121

Oh yeah. A dude we can’t gauge, especially when, after this, Max goes on a couple dates with Suzy. This delights Karen to a degree, even though Philip spends the rest of his time with her theorizing that Max is hoping to steal the business somehow and Karen keeps relenting that hE jUsT lOvEs WoRkInG fOr RoWeNa!

Phone Calls Keep on Coming

Eventually, Ghostface calls Karen again, stating that he has some crazy shit to spill:

A lot of this shit went over head a bit because it’s all about copyright ownership and such, but essentially it boils down to the fact that Karen’s grandfather was working in some lab with his friend, Hanz Zeitmann on some special perfume formula. But then the lab burst into flames, killing Zeitmann! Ghostface accuses the grandfather of fleeing with the formula for what would later become The House of Fand’s bestselling fragrance, “The Essense of Sheba”. Then WWII started and those details got sort of forgotten in the absolute mess of that period of history.

Ghostface plans to send Karen a package containing a newspaper article that he demands she to read to Rowena. He wants Rowena Fand to resign as president of The House of Fand, which would then put the business up for public sale or whatever?

“This is blackmail.”

“Not in the accepted sense of the word. I am not demanding money from you—I don’t need to. I am just threatening to publish a truth. It is retribution, Mrs. Dugald.”

I knew what it was like to feel turned to stone.

“You heard me, didn’t you?” The softness had gone from the man’s voice. “And you’ll think it over between now and when the postman rings in the morning. Believe me, you’d better….”

page 69

Me:

So there’s three devious dudes. This book gives. I don’t care if the plot kind of skips and that Karen only ever talks hysterics about what to do because she’s scared of what her grandmother might say and that Philip just keeps telling her that she doesn’t need to worry because she has him or whatever. The fact that I can’t trust any of these men in the safety of the narrative is all good times.

The letter arrives. Karen shares it with Philip. They quickly identify that it was written on a typewriter where a couple of the letters are askew, and so Philip vows to search through all The House of Fand offices and facilities for the same messed-up typewriter.

Rowena Takes a Turn

Making things even easier for Karen to avoid doing what the mysterious caller told her to do is Rowena’s heart attack. Turns out she has angina. A doctor is called and he prescribes that Rowena come under no further stresses. But then one of The House of Fand warehouses gets set aflame. The managers claim it to be an accident, but both Karen and Philip know the truth.

While Philip searches for the broken typewriter, Karen shares some details of the mysterious sexy soft-voiced caller with Max, but then Philip returns gets all jealous and we get the occasional “enticingly dangerous” scene like this one:

“Oh, Karen.” He swept me into his arms, “I think what I love most about you”—his face was buried in my neck, his lips against my throat—“is that your self-confidence is only superficial. Underneath, you’re very young. Women shouldn’t have to cope with problems outside home-making. I don’t want you to have to. That’s the man’s job. It’s mine from now on.”

“You talk like a Victorian.” My voice shook with doubtful laughter. “Is that what you advise patients out in Australia to do? It’s a whole century outdated, darling. And you’re too sophisticated not to know it.”

He pressed me back against the cushions of the settee and leaned over me. His hands were about my face, holding it firm while he kissed me between words. “I’m a mixture, sweet. I like a woman to look and talk like a modern, but that’s where their independence should cease. I want to possess a woman—I want nothing hidden from me. And I take all the responsibility.”

page 80

Now, normally this would be the part of the book where I’d be like:

…but this is a trashy gothic thriller and I’m pretty sure Karen’s gonna be a-okay by the end, so inside I was like, OH HECK YES, KAREN, LET’S SEE HOW CRAZY HE GETS.

The Plot…Doesn’t Thicken

Most of the plot revolves around Karen and Philip trying to figure out who the caller is. But when Philip is out doing The House of Fand business for Rowena, Karen remains at home with nobody to speak up. Every single time she ends up relaying the same info to Max, who also promises to help, but in a pretty detached way.

For the most part, Max isn’t much of a character in the story, except to Suzy. She ends up staying over at his house a couple of times, and the two go over all the old Victorian stuff that the house’s previous owner left behind. In the remains, she finds a piece of hand-written sheet music titled “Appassionata” that she falls in love with and wants to sell. However, Max believes the music to be of sentimental value to the dead dude and insists that it be kept secret or given back to the family. But Suzy just loves the music sOoOoOo mUcH that she wants to play it over and over.

Things Get Dicey

Rowena gets better, and eventually Karen spills the beans about the Ghostface calls and the threat he plans on making. Rowena just…doesn’t care? She intends to fight but then has another heart attack (off the pages) and yet still manages to pull through. Honestly, the whole “Rowena is feeble and can’t handle shit” act that Karen puts on throughout the whole book really amounts to nothing.

Throughout the entire book, Karen doesn’t really do much of anything, other than pry into Greta’s actions while somewhat falling for Philip’s suspicions of Max. At one point, Rowena informs Karen that Max is going to Paris for The House of Fand business, but when Karen tries to phone Max’s hotel and discovers that he isn’t there, she ventures out and finds him at Greta’s house:

They came out of the house together. Max was carrying a small suitcase. I knew perfectly well it wasn’t his. Even from a distance I could see that this was shoddy and of a harsh cheap blue.

Greta hesitated for a moment before getting into the car, Max had his hand on her arm. He ent and said something to her; then he literally pushes her along the front seat, got in beside her and slammed the door.”

page 173

Karen gives chase in her Aston Martin but eventually loses him. She then drives back to Greta’s house and confronts Greta’s mother, who indicated that yes, Max took Greta, that Greta was terrified but had no other choice but to go.

Ghostface releases the newspaper article to the press and rumours begin to spread from some smaller newspapers. Journalists start calling the house, and even Phlip begins to worry that Rowena can’t handle things.

The Deal with Max

While Philip’s out, Max corners Karen in the house and then drags her to his car:

I couldn’t tell was Max’s mood was, but it was certainly not one of gentleness. Without losing his grip on my wrist, he got into the car on the passenger side, eased himself over to the driving seat and dragged me in after him with such haste that I stumbled and grazed my ankle.

“Have a thought for my nylons.”

He didn’t say he was sorry.

page 217

As ridiculous as this is, I love it. I care very much about my nylons and I feel seen, Karen. I don’t think you’re vapid at all, but if you lived in modern times, you’d fare pretty well in a pair of Sheertex.

Anyway, Max drives to some cottage in the middle of nowhere and tries to explain that he knows what’s going on without actually explaining what’s going on at all. He does, however, finally profess his undying love to Karen in the car. It amounts to literally nothing, however, because then he goes into the cottage and gets Greta. Then they drive back to the house, where everyone’s gathered and listening to a tape recording of Suzy playing the “Appassionata”.

They all listen with little regard, but then the recording picks up on a conversation between two men discussing a street address and room number, which is the exact location where The House of Fand plant was set aflame.

Philip immediately grabs the tape and runs.

We Were Right Not to Trust Philip

I’ve heard that some gothic paperbacks give off the impression that the romantic lead isn’t’ to be trusted but that some books pull off the whole “hE’s JuSt MiSuNdErStOoD!” plot twist. Not so in The House of Fand! I never trusted Philip because he was hardly ever romantic with Karen, just brooding and bossy and hardly ever had the time to apologize. He took the swing of Rowena’s demands of him far to easily.

So when he grabbed the tape recording, I was like YESSSSSSSS, let’s get to this final act because I am STOKED.

Karen chases after her husband, piecing together that one of the voices on the tape was Philip’s. The other, she can’t yet pinpoint, but she follows Philip to the pier where a boat they suspect to belong to Hannibal the gardener is docked. She wanders into the boat, only for the engine to start and the boat to sail off into the river. Then she approaches her husband at the wheel.

I asked carefully, “Why did you want that tape? Why did you come here? Why didn’t you wait for me—you knew I was right behind you?”

“You ask too many questions, darling.”

page 229

Fortunately, he does eventually give some answers. Turns out that Ghostface was Hannibal, who pretended to be a gardener. Karen asks how Philip found out this information, but he refuses to tell. Instead, he spills all the details in that “thriller climax seedy plan exposition” way that you all know I fucking hate. Turns out “Hannibal” wandered Europe and befriended Zeitmann’s widow, who was sure that the formula to the Sheba perfume had been stolen, only she was too old to do anything about it.

Then Hannibal managed to find a newspaper article about the missing Sheba formula and went to seek Rupert Marlowe, who turned out to be Rowena Fand’s husband. Turns out “Fand” isn’t actually the family name and that Rowena had changed it at some point.

The Staircase Scene

Karen senses that something is off, but then it starts raining and she complains to Philip that she’s cold. And hey, we get this AMAZING couple’s quarrel that is just one of the best things to ever happen in the thriller climax, quite honestly:

“I can’t go on like this.” My voice came shrilly. “Pull up somewhere or I’ll jump overboard and swim. Do you hear? Philip”—my voice dropped from the wilderness to a whisper—“where are we going?”

He turned to me. A lurid fluorescent street light tinged his skin tone. “Perhaps”—the grin he gave me was wide, without mirth—“I’m taking you on a joy ride…”

“Don’t be silly.”

“…to the devil,” he added and his laugh was excited.

“For heaven’s sake don’t try to be funny,” I shouted at him. “Where are we going?”

“You’ve just asked me that one.”

“And you just gave me a silly answer. Don’t joke—please don’t!” I put the sweater over my wet head. “Philip…”

“Go below,” he said.

“How can I when there’s so much I’ve got to be told?”

“Then sit down! You make me nervous standing there swaying and hurling questions at me.”

“How do you think I feel. Philip…” I grabbed his arm.

We were passing a Canal barge. Our small craft swerved towards it.

“For God’s sake.” He shook me off. “Do you want an accident?”

“I don’t know where we’ll eventually get to,” I said wildly, “but we can’t just g on and on.” I waited. Then, a vague new alarm seized me. “Do you know where’s you’re going?”

“I’ve already told you, haven’t I, sweet?”

page 232

Don’t get me wrong, the jarred writing does take from the intensity of this scene, but I very much appreciate the dialogue because it makes these two seem as though they’ve been unhappily married for YEARS. I also love that Philip makes shitty jokes but also just shrugs off Karen’s response to them. It’s weirdly enthralling. Psychopath, much?

Philip explains that Greta is Hannibal’s wife. Turns out she was looking at Hannibal and not Max, and has recently attempted to escape him after he committed a robbery and feared that she would be considered an accessory to the crime. Karen then explains that she went with Max to get Greta and that Greta is back at the house, and then Philip shoves her back down the cabin steps.

Karen breaks her ankle at the bottom of the steps, but Philip continues driving the boat through the storm, only to crash into a barge as the police surround him. Karen passes in an out of consciousness. Then Philip throws himself down the cabin steps after Karen, but then kicks her and tries to get her to stand.

I cried out.

“And stop that! All right, stay there! But listen. I’ve already told you the truth—about Greta; about that bastard you call Hannibal—about the whole damned lot. The truth. Are you listening?”

I heard, but I was beyond speech.

“There’ll be denials, of course, and lies told. But we’ll scotch those between us. You and I know, the truth. This is Hannibal’s crime.”

page 236

Karen tells Philip that Max already knows the truth, that he knows everything. She tries to explain this to Philip, but then she conveniently passes out.

The Most Lackluster Bow Wraps it all Up

Karen wakes up in the hospital with Rowena sitting at her bedside. Rowena explains that Philip was arrested and that Hannibal is his brother. Turns out that when Max when to Paris that he actually found Zeitmann’s son, who explained that the formula for The Essense of Sheba did belong to Rowena’s husband. He tried to sell it to Zeitmann but the sale never went though or some shit… none of this really matters because it’s all convoluted copyright stuff.

At the end of the day, Max and Rowena figured out what was going on and stupidly never told Karen that she was married to a criminal.

Karen falls asleep. Max kisses her in her sleep and that’s literally all we get of their “lover’s reunion”. Then, when Karen wakes later, she learns that Philip killed himself in prison. Karen goes into full hysterics over all the realizations that she somehow missed. The last scene shows Rowena giving Karen a hug, telling her about what love actually is or whatever.

It failed to satisfy me.

The House of Fand: My Final Thoughts

I didn’t find this book all that “goth”. It felt a lot more like a modern mainstream thriller, but set in the 60s-70s. Sexy dudes and fancy clothes and fast cars and just a touch of danger. It’s not a lot but I enjoyed this ride to a degree.

As for goth elements, we had some spooky phone calls and maybe one or two night scenes in the house where Karen stalked around and was spooked. Otherwise, it failed to really hold up to some of the more mainstream gothic tropes.

I thought this was a very fun and easy read to start things off. I loved Philip but felt like we didn’t quite get enough to him. After the truth of his motives is revealed to Karen, she doesn’t really feel much about him. That’s my main problem with this book, is that their relationship never really gets explored beyond Philip’s jealousy of her closeness with Max.

And Max, well, we don’t really get any scenes between he and Karen that show they had any real feelings for each other. Karen denies having feelings for him not just in her conversations with Philip, but also in her exposition to the reader. She constantly calls him her “first love” because she was naive and inexperienced. But she barely learns anything new even after she learns the truth about Philip. As fun as she was at times, she proved a pretty underdeveloped protagonist.

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MOODBOARD: “Phantom Pains”

A long while back I shared this moodboard teasing a short story called “Phantom Pains”. This was one of my very first moodboards, and when I shared it, I didn’t share much about the story. Since then, my MOODBOARD posts have evolved into promotional material, as opposed to standard sharing material. I figured that I’d make a new board in order to promote “Phantom Pains”, which is my very first piece of erotica. You can read it in the latest issue of Peachfuzz Magazine now!

“Phantom Pains” Premise

As I said before, “Phantom Pains” is my first erotica, but it’s more of an erotic crime than anything. In the story, a paraplegic bank teller named Emma notices a strange man watching her during her workday. She immediately realizes that she’s being staked out as a potential robbery target, but then she finds the same man at her new nightly haunt, using his danger to reignite some of the thrills into her life.

A Specific Anthology Call

I originally wrote “Phantom Pains” for an anthology call. The anthology was specifically for “erotic crime”, but it focused on marginalized people. This call spoke to me because I know that my writing is hetero and white and that I don’t often branch into telling stories beyond my own. Fueled with drive, I decided on writing about a wheelchair-bound woman, and I spent a lot of time researching what it’s like to live as a paraplegic. This amazing Youtuber, Anya Darlow, provided me with so much info in her paraplegic lifestyle channel. She literally answers every possible question one might have, so check it out for yourself.

What I found most interesting was learning about “spasms”. Being naive, I of course had no idea about spasms. I’ll even admit that I had no idea that most paraplegics could still feel some sensation in their legs. Here’s a great video where she discusses her experiences:

Long story short, I had an amazing time penning my story with my favourite no-nonsense protagonist with a shitty job, Emma. She proved herself fearless and smart, while also being just reckless enough to be fun.

While I did have my story accepted for the anthology, the personnel situation at the press didn’t go down so well and I pulled my story before things got really ugly. This left “Phantom Pains” with no home, and because I was deep in novel edits during that time, I let this story sit on the back-burner for a little while.

A Hot Slavic Bank Robbery

A few years ago, my sister told me a story of a bank teller friend who was stalked once. I guess this is a common phenomenon, but people who plan on robbing banks will sometimes scope out the personnel at the bank, trying to figure out who the most “vulnerable” bank teller is. Obviously, as a woman, I found this creepy AF, so I used this in my story, because having a paraplegic bank teller would obviously add a perceived vulnerability, right?

I made my bank robber a stereotypical hot Slavic guy, because at the end of the day, this is an erotica story and I’ve always been into the Slavic accent. My brooding villain, however, isn’t entirely a bad guy, though, and has his own vulnerabilities, plus maybe a foot fetish, but yeah…

FUN FACT: The “dagger heels” Emma wears in a scene from the story were influenced by the ones that one of the “Try Guys” stupidly chose to wear in this video. They’re totally fetish heels and not actually meant for wearing in real life, but yeah. I love me some high heels. The highest pair I own is 5 inches, but they’re block heels and are still torture devices. 6 inches is death, man.

A New Home for An Erotic Story

I’ve always wanted to write erotica. For the longest time, I thought I could do it as a side gig under a pen name. Then I wrote one story and published it on Amazon. It did okay. Then I did more research and realized that in order to really “make it” as an erotic author, that I would need to be churning out new pieces at a ridiculous rate.

So yeah, as much as I love sexy stories, I just couldn’t allow myself to just write stuff full of extended sex scenes forever. “Erotica” doesn’t accurately describe my style, which was something I learned about myself while writing my How to Write A Sex Scene post. I don’t want to disparage the genre in any way. I understand the point of genre fiction and the escapism it provides, but I always like my work to lean more toward the raw and dark and gutting. I thrive in painful chaos.

Anyway, finding a proper “erotica” publisher for this one proved difficult, but I ultimately settled on one specific magazine. I sent it off and received a mighty high of an acceptance email a couple of months later from the delightfully artsy Peachfuzz Magazine.

Want to Read “Phantom Pains”?

You can buy yourself a print-only copy of Peachfuzz Magazine now. I was so happy to be able to grace the pages. It’s a truly old-school piece of classy smut and the magazine will make a nice piece to your literary collection. Get yours before the copies sell out!

If you’d like to read a full excerpt of “Phantom Pains” before buying, then just head on this way, fiends!

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“Little Black Death” Now Out in THE CROW’S QUILL

Today’s the day, friends! My new story, “Little Black Death” drops in The Crow’s Quill, the new gothic magazine from Quill & Crow Publishing House. This debut issue is free for everyone, so if you like the dark and macabre, get on over and indulge in some darkness with me and my dark little online family. Every future issue will have a theme and I’m already hard at work on my next piece for issue 2, which will have a witchy theme.

Anyway, you came her for an excerpt, so allow me to tease you.

Little Black Death

An Excerpt

The newest expansion of the Hargrove Mill opened the night Daniela was born. Gray smoke bloomed and blended into the sky as I labored. Daniela had my red hair, which I buried beneath the blanket when William entered my chambers to see his firstborn child. He took her and gazed at her sleeping face. He touched her cheek before facing the village below.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

At this, he revealed to Daniela the cold depths of his black stare. It had seized me the day he brought his carriage to the village and proposed that I become his wife. His irises were dark as his pupils, glistening with only the slightest touch of desperation as he waited for my response. My body chilled, so fearful to answer. His lumber had built every structure in the village. He lived alone in his stone home, perched on the mountainside, each arched window accented with draperies of red. When he kissed me on our wedding day, his mouth tasted of blood.

“What are you sorry for?” he asked, raising his gaze to my face full of tears.

“I-I know you only married me for an heir.”

He placed Daniela back into my arms. His knee shifted the mattress as he leaned in close and wiped the hot tears from my eyes. “Don’t cry, darling. I married for love as well, and you’ve given me a daughter to spoil.”

More tears came, clouding my eyes, turning the room into a swirl of red as he embraced us both. I tried to find comfort, but only felt his chill. I smelled salt and iron, and the baby must have too, because she opened her mouth and screamed like a siren of warning.

Like what you read?

Check out THE CROW’S QUILL to read more!

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MOODBOARD: “Little Black Death”

Exciting news! I was asked to become a regular contributor for Quill & Crow Publishing House’s new online magazine, The Crow’s Quill. The magazine features upmarket gothic short fiction ranging from 1500-2000 words. Each issue is themed and they are currently looking for stories, so send them some of your work if it’s within your vein! The first issue drops on August 1st and includes my brand new short story, “Little Black Death”.

A Little Synopsis

When the richest man in the village, William Hargrove offers his hand in marriage to a poor village woman who’s just lost her father, she feels she has no other choice but to accept. She moves into his castle and bears his children, but struggles most with loving a man who caused her entire life’s destruction.

What Inspired “Little Black Death”

What I loved most about Resident Evil Village was the setting. I loved the mountainside castle and the village that resided beneath, plus the factory that you could see across the valley. I watched Jacksepticeye’s playthrough of the game shortly after it came out, which was subsequently around the time when I started writing gothic fiction. It also helped me get over the gutting rejection of my novel. The game’s aesthetic really grabbed me and refused to let go.

Then I got the request to write a story for the magazine and I knew I had to set it there.

Other inspiration was Let Love Come Last by Taylor Caldwell, which was the only slightly gothic vintage paperback I could find at my local used bookstore last spring. Published in 1949, it follows a woman, Ursula, who marries William, an arrogant rags-to-riches businessman, who bought out the owner of the city’s lumber mill. Ursula marries William fully realizing that he has no intention of loving her, but in passing his newfound wealth to his children . . . by literally giving them everything they want to the point it works to their detriment. It’s is a long and somewhat dry read compared to today’s fiction offerings, but it was fucking amazing, friends. It cuts pretty deep as it progresses through the years. Seriously, it’s the best family saga book I’ve ever read.

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Anyway, this book probably inspired “Little Black Death” more than I’d care to admit. It took me over two months to read this thing. And one can’t spend that long in a book without fully immersing themselves in it. So yes, the husband in “Little Black Death” is also a dude named William who owns a lumber mill. I swear that is where the similarities end, though!

When A Man Ruins A Woman

We all know at this point that I enjoy hating billionaires. Recent months have sent me into a reeling spiral of anger. One might say it’s because of my left-leaning political stance, but fucking Jeff Bezos spent several billion dollars to fly into near-space in a dick rocket after some other English billionaire did and Elon Musk isn’t far behind. All this during a fucking pandemic, when the news is reporting daily catastrophic climate change events. I write this while my province is covered in smoke and ash by the surrounding wildfires after a crazy-ass heat dome literally charred up the land, burned up a small town in 15 minutes and also killed billions of sea creatures.

ANYWAY, because I don’t like to spend too much time depressing myself by standing on my annoying soapbox, I try to spend more time writing about my frustrations in a fictional sense. Because fiction doesn’t argue. Fiction just shows you stuff and forces you to feel things. That’s it.

Speaking of Elon Musk:

I know it’s not right to make fun of people dancing, but look at this embarrassing man. Canadian indie cool-girl musician, Grimes, married this embarrassing man. Like any other hipsters, I fell in love with her music. I also quite enjoy her new stuff, but this article that shares some of the trouble she’s faced in her career since marrying Elon Musk has always stuck with me. And I’m sure that marrying a billionaire has more negative results than just naming your kid a dumbass name. Probably. Right?

I think a lot about Meghan Markle and how her marriage to Prince Harry also affected her negatively, just in a less ridiculous way. Granted, Harry seems like a decent and supportive dude, but he’s also a part of a very private and closed-off elite society. Whether or not you like Meghan, you have to agree that marrying into that shit is going to take its toll on one’s psyche.

My nameless protagonist faces these same traumas as well. In “Little Black Death”, she fully sees that William is not a good man. She detests the life she’s in. She detests her husband and even the children she bears him. And that’s where the true horror lies, is within her choice to accept his hand in marriage. It affects her credibility and the original standing she had with the villagers.

The “Little Black Death” Playlist

This proved a fun little playlist to compile. Often times, when I make them, I grab the songs in my vault of memory and slam them into a group. What I love about Spotify is that they recommend similar songs to add to a playlist. I often listen to the playlists while writing and during my day to better immerse myself in the tone and theme. Then I go through the process of adding or removing songs.

Songs like Bjork’s “Bachelorette” and Austra’s “The Beast” fit in perfectly, but it was Meg Myers’ “Little Black Death” that inspired me so much during the writing that I named the entire story after it.

Because “Little Black Death” also focuses on the theme of protest and uprising, I also added the frighteningly hautning old song, “Bread and Roses” by Judy Collins to the end, which I discovered through this Paste article on working-class protest songs.

Want to read “Little Black Death?”

The very first issue of The Crow’s Quill drops on August 1st, 2021 and is absolutely free! Give it a read and let me know what you think!

It’s almost here! Our brand new literary magazine, The Crow’s Quill, will be here on August 1st for your reading pleasure. The best part is, it’s free! Featuring six gothic stories by six amazing authors. Learn more at https://t.co/A0bBTMVwt0 pic.twitter.com/cQkIuYPHod

— Quill & Crow Publishing House (@QuillandCrow) July 27, 2021

IMAGES

Castle / Woman / Hand / Cogs / Mill / Glass / Doorknob / Newspaper

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5 Hottest Progressive Political Commentators

I might like to think of myself as a high-thinking book-reading too-good-for-gossip writer-type, but deep down I’m just a horny lady. I spend most of my free moments during the day listening to leftist political commentary on YouTube. And yes, I have ranked my faves. So here’s my totally arbitrary list of the 5 hottest progressive political commentators which I took wayyyyyy to seriously and spent waaaaayyyyy too much time making.

5. Hasan Piker

To be entirely honest, I don’t watch Hasan that much. I first got into his commentary back when he covered the storm chaser footage of Hurricane Laura. He’s on my list because it would feel wrong to leave him off of it.

I’m not into ripped dudes, honestly, especially now that I’ve hit my sexual peak. My desires lead toward weird dudes with complex baggage. I know that Hasan is known as the “woke bae” of progressive commentary and wine moms like me would normally be all about that shit but it’s just nor for me.

Hasan, however is a fun watch when I just want to laugh. He has pretty decent political takes but I enjoy watching him when I just feel like relaxing and having fun. He makes me feel like I’m just hanging out with friends in my early 20s again.

4. John Iadarola

As it was for many (and despite its recent controversies), TYT was my first dip into the alternative media sphere. John Iadarola quickly became my favourite commentator on the network because he was always very calm and rational. That being said, he does make some of the best quips out of all the hosts. He’s also nice to look at, though I def preferred his Tormund Greymane look.

But what makes John so appealing? He actually is a legit nerd. Sure, I cringe when he calls his fans the “Dragon Squad”, because I’m not like that into the nerd zeitgeist, but I still like his integrity. He knows his politics and applies his commentary on The Damage Report without getting animated. It’s a skill that I appreciate. He takes his perspective into conversations but never supersedes other opinions with his own. He also passionately covers climate change stories in a way that no other commentator does. And he plays board games. Like a shit ton of board games. And he’s always willing to recommend games for people to play on Twitter.

3. Michael Brooks

I debated putting Michael on this list because it feels kind of disrespectful after his sudden passing last summer. But he was attractive and looked super hot while doing the whole Russian mobster thing in his tracksuits. I appreciated it.

I also appreciated his insight. At times he could come off a bit conceited. At times he had the tendency to come off as a dismissive asshole, but he always came at issues with the underlying principle that policy should help everyday working-class people.

He never ceased to make me laugh, though. by laughing. And with his ridiculously complex impersonations. When people ask that “Which celebrity death impacted you the most?” open question on Twitter, my answer is always Michael Brooks, but I doubt most people are even aware of who he was, which is sad.

Rest in Power, Michael.

2. Kyle Kulinski

In all seriousness, I’ve been watching A LOT of Kyle in recent weeks. He’s become my default commentator because he looks at things objectively and economically, as opposed to following a lot of “woke” stuff. At times, I think his unwillingness to embrace social issues a bit troubling, and he has a tendency to skip over subjects like race or gender, but I like having that surface-level commentary on most subjects because he gets right down to the raw issues of things.

I think the main thing that I love about Kyle is that his whole aesthetic, style-wise, is stuck in the mid-00s. Which for me is weirdly attractive? He wears suit jackets with t-shirts and jeans and has a chain and all his logos are like suuuuuuuuuuper douchebro tribal tattoo territory. He’s like all the douchebag things I thought were attractive in my teenage years but amalgamated into a smart and thoughtful man. Which, I suppose now makes him a bit tacky at times, but I don’t care, man. It’s hot.

Technically, Kyle would be my number 1 if it weren’t for…

1. Sam Seder

You’re crazy if Sam isn’t in your top spot. Honestly, for a newcomer into political commentary, The Majority Report can be a pretty dry watch at times. Sam always takes like 5 minutes too long to ramble off his opinion but I don’t even care. I’ve always been a sucker for an older man. The dude is over 50. He’s a divorced dad. Look at his hair. He’s lived through shit. He looks great. And he debates likes a mother fucker.

My husband literally doesn’t understand my obsession with Sam, despite the fact that I consistently explain what all these combined factors do to my lady hormones. But I know I’m not the only Majority Report fan who feels this way, because there are plenty of fans on the MR live chat every day who call Sam “Daddy”, and while that’s definitely not my fetish, I uh, I get it. I do.

Who’s On Your Top 5 Hottest Progressive Political Commentators List?

Did my top 5 hottest progressive political commentators list do it for you? I know this is a different topic from my usual blogging fare. I doubt most of my audience delves in the online lefty politics community as much as I do, but politics has found its way into much of my writing in recent years. These commentators have shaped my stories in some shape or form. And what woman doesn’t enjoy talking about their stupid crushes from time to time?

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WARDROBE FLASHBACK – A Year of Mom Jeans – 2021

Last September, I wrote of some of my fears about my daughter heading into Kindergarten and the vast amount of changes it applied to my life. And, oh boy, were there many. But, in order to make this post solely about me, I’m going to talk about aesthetics.

Fashionista Aesthetics, That Is

I always loved fashion and have spent many of my recent years embracing all the stuff “aesthetics” I loved in high school (specifically gothic and romantic stuff). My outfits quickly became an outlet for my creativity. People often commented on them and asked if I was a fashion blogger and eventually I started posting my outfit photos to Instagram. I never get too crazy about the pictures. I just snap them in front of my bookshelf after coming home and I change into pajamas and post the pics.

I’m quite the introvert, and I’ve spent a majority of my adult life working a full-time job that didn’t require a uniform. I also rarely ever left the house other than to go wor work, so I figured I might as well dress up for work and feel good about doing it. Then I became a mom, and while maintaining my fashionista self proved difficult in the beginning, I did allow myself the time to wake up early every morning so I could get dressed.

Then My Kid Went to School

Today’s “mom aesthetic” is all about messy buns and leggings and no-makeup. And I get it. I do. I wish I could give less of a shit about how I look when I drop my kid off to school but it’s tough to get out of a habit once you wind yourself into one. So yeah, I still got myself out of bed early, even on days when I didn’t work, just to do my hair and my makeup and get some clothes on.

But then I got to school. And the other moms started commenting on my clothes. Nice comments, yet, but after enough “I don’t know how you find the time to do it!” remarks, I started to feel insecure about my high maintenance routine. I started feeling stupid because getting so dressed up just to drop my kid off.

Mom Jeans Time

Thankfully, I owned a single pair of Levi’s wedgie-fit jeans, which I don’t often wear but appreciate having for those days when I just want to look actually casual. They’re great mom jeans because they’re a good high waist, don’t stretch out halfway through the day, and make my ass look great. And so, in honour of the upcoming school year, here’s a collection of all the “mom jeans” ensembles I put together to drop my daughter off at kindergarten.

Pastel Goth Mom Jeans

I don’t often wear these glasses because they’re a bit too “alternative” for my taste. I do still like them, but most of my skirt-based ensembles ended up being more “romantic” for these glasses. Thankfully, on “mom days”, they go well with my sweaters and my crochet slouchy hat, which I think is kinda cheugy, right? Like, kids aren’t wearing slouchy hats, are they?

I’m pretty sure slouchy hats are a millennial thing and that all the kids these days are wearing those fucking bucket hats like the New Radicals guy.

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Hipster Vintage Goth Mom Jeans

I normally wear my crochet berets and hats to cover up my head, because my fashionista insecurities have basically robbed me of confidence that my straight hair is pretty. I usually curl my hair so I can pretend that I’m Kate Middleton, but on straight-hair days, the fucking hat goes on.

My mom gave me this cool vintage sweater last year and I really had no idea what to wear it with. It makes me think of the early hipster days when people my age first started really getting into old stuff. I do love the moon, though, because they touch my gothic heart.

Fun Fact: The day I wore this outfit, I got the email from the literary agent who asked me to write to the R&R that she ended up rejecting months later. Like, the rejection sucked, but the memory of getting that email is still a fond one for me.

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St. Patrick’s Day Mom Jeans

I honestly am still now sure how I feel about this hat I crocheted for St. Patrick’s Day, but it did a good job covering up the broken bits of hair on top of my head on this “mom day”.

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Sporty Adidas Mom Jeans

Another slouchy hat appearance. This is one of my fave “mom looks” because it also incorporates athleticwear. I don’t normally wear this stuff but I am super into Adidas, thanks to my obsession with Michael Brooks (who wore the brand a lot). This outfit made me feel more like a mom than any of the rest.

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Midwestern Mom Jeans

My brother-in-law wanted me to sell this jacket it on Poshmark for him. It used to belong to his dad and while the western look isn’t really my thing, this jacket was just begging me to wear it. So I wore it. And loved it. Sure looked great with my jeans and this striped sweater.

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Frumpy Sweater Mom Jeans

This is just a thrown-together look that I didn’t hate. I’ve always hated my arms and have always appreciated the comfort of a good granny-style cardigan. I don’t often wear this one but I thought the ruffled romantic cuffs contrasted nicely against the edge of the snake print on my blouse.

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Princess Diana Mom Jeans

If you click on the arrow on this picture, you’ll see the original Princess Diana mom jeans look that I tried copying. I thought 80s fashion was the tackiest shit for the longest time, but after The Crown introduced Princess Diana for season 4, I’ve been diving into allllllll the 80s Diana fashion spreads I can find. This is hopefully the first of many Princess Diana copycat looks.

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Here’s to a New School Year of Mom Jeans

Are you also a school mom who loves mom jeans? Hopefully, my looks have satisfied you, or maybe inspired you? I’m really not much of a pants person because I hate my short legs but I do plan on donning even more epic mom jeans looks for the upcoming year.

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FEAR STREET Part 1: 1994 – Netflix Movie Review

Admittedly, I never read the R.L. Stine’s Fear Street series in my youth. I dunno why. Honestly, most of my pre-teen youth days were spent reading, but I was a pretty slow reader so I never actually got to devour R.L. Stine’s books at the rapid rate that some of you other fans have. (I did read a few of the Give Yourself Goosebumps series to death, though!) Nevertheless, I did recently pick up a copy of Fear Street’s 14th book, The Knife from my local neighbourhood cabinet library. Then I ate it up over two nights while my kids had their bath. By doing so, I gained enough knowledge about the series’ whole concept and dove right into Fear Street – Part 1: 1994 with the same excitement as the rest of you.

Yes, bandwagoning!

Cashing in on Millennial Fears

The most frustrating, but also my favourite thing about Fear Street – Part 1: 1994 is the blatant Millenial pandering. For me, this movie dropped right after I cut my summer vacation short because British Columbia was hit with that insane heat dome that overwhelmed the province with such hellish temperatures that a small town north of me literally burnt down in a matter of 15 minutes. Despite the fact that my family went somewhere slightly cooler for the heat wave, my toddler son just wasn’t having it and we decided against trying to go camping in 40+ degree weather.

Then we got home and a massive thunderstorm struck another fire right on the edge of town that threatened houses. My daughter was scared of the storm, so I had to talk her out of her fear like a good parent while my anxiety literally devoured me inside. I found all the family photos and shit and shoved them into luggage that I’d just emptied that day of camping stuff. My husband was like WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? and I was like WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE OF CLIMATE CHANGE BUT I HAVE TO PRETEND LIKE EVERYTHING IS NORMAL AROUND THE FUCKING KIDS BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW HOW TO EXPLAIN TO THEM THAT WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE OF CLIMATE CHANGE AND THIS IS WHAT THE REST OF OUR LIVES IS GOING TO BE LIKE NOW.

So yeah, the movie starts off with a neon-soaked totally not dead mall and that Robin from Stranger Things, only she works bookstore instead of an ice cream place. A woman buys a new copy of a Fear Street-like series and Robin channels my inner teenage hipster and calls it drivel or trash or something. Then the mall closes and the totally cool after-closing soundtrack kicks off with Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer”.

It’s pandering to my internal NEED for better times and I was totally okay with it after the horrific week I had.

Woke High School Stuff

Fear Street‘s first act centers around the rivalry between two high school story centred around two communities. One, Shadyside, is a somewhat poverty-ridden one cursed with mass murders every few years. Sunnyside is, of course, the one full of fancy houses and well-maintained yards. Our protagonist, Deena, and her brother Josh, however, live in a pretty nice house. Like if I were elementary school Rebecca watching this, I’d think they were rich AF. Movies rarely ever show poverty right with interior settings, honestly, and that’s just a petty qualm I have with films in general.

We get a really nice visual of the Shadyside school bus driving from one community to another to convey this, which really cut into my poverty-stricken core, man. Fear Street 1994 has a diverse cast, which the movie utilizes exceptionally well, considering some of the social commentaries it touches on, but we’ll get to that aspect later. Instead of rehashing the entire plot, I’ll just give my general impression of each main character.

Deena

Our protagonist, who has recently broken up with her girlfriend, Sam. Much of her character’s evolution centres around this relationship. She focuses a lot on Sam’s recent move to Sunnyvale and how this dynamic has disrupted their relationship. I liked Deena, but there isn’t much going on with her, other than her mission to save Sam.

Josh

Deena’s younger brother plays the nerd character and functions as the expositional know-it-all. I thought the movie wrapped a lot of the exposition well through his online chats with another anonymous fan of Shadyside lore. Again, there isn’t much to him other than his social isolation, which resolves to a degree when Kate takes an interest to his knowledge and we get some sexy times.

Kate

When I was a younger reserved Christian kid, I hated bad girl characters like Kate. She sells prescription drugs to kids in Sunnyvale, for the most part, which is how she knows Simon and is aware of Simon’s brother’s recent party OD, though he was only dead for a couple of minutes, yo. Out of all the slasher movie tropes, I thought Fear Street did the best job with Kate. Instead of making her vapid and vain, they made her resourceful, networked, and was well-aware of her surroundings. Typically, characters of her calibre die early in the movie, but Kate kept going. Instead of her being that early-on comedic death, her murder in the movie’s climax packed a decent punch.

Simon

Another trope character, which Fear Street crafted well. He didn’t amount to much in the movie. He proved himself the dumb white dude jock, but like Kate, his mission was simply to have a good time. So he proved himself a decent dude when he bonded with Josh over Kate’s interest in him. He proved himself shameless (in every possible good way) in the movie’s sex sequence where everyone got laid.

Sam

Easily Fear Street‘s best character, Sam plays the love interest who becomes possessed by the spirit of Sarah Fier, an accused witch who was murdered in Shadyside back in 1666. What few scenes that focus on her character portray her struggle exceptionally well. She attempts to cross the gap between Shadyside (her former community) with Sunnyvale (where she’s recently moved). She’s also closeted, so when she moves to Sunnyvale, she attempts to fit in by getting a boyfriend and doing your standard popular blond girl in high school stuff.

Then she rekindles her relationship with Deena and comes more to terms with her identity while subsequently becoming possessed by a witch. I honestly thought her character had the best arc and development, so when it came down to the movie’s cliffhanger ending, I did find myself quite hooked.

Murder Victims Were Too Smart

So we get a nice murder opening, which is fun properly executes all the features of a mall in its last glory days. Plenty of the murder chase sequences in Fear Street pay homages to Scream, which is my favourite horror movie franchise because I’m kind of a coward and knife-weilding human murderers just make for nice comfortable scares.

I did, however, feel that all of the murder scenes tried a bit too hard trying to make the victims smart. They never run upstairs or get caught trying to crawl through small openings or grabbing the wrong weapons. I knew the bookstore clerk was gonna die, but even she was a too smart so that by the time it came to the stabbing, it just felt a bit cheap and not rewarding.

As for the main characters, when they got to the grocery store, I really felt like none of them were going to die because they kept on doing stuff that was TOO smart. Like Kate literally just saw that muffin pan in the bakery and immediately used it stealthily to her advantage. Despite the adrenaline. Despite the fear. At this point in the movie, I felt convinced that everyone was going to make it out alive. Aaaaaaannnd, then the killer shoved her into the bread slicer thing, which was absolutely brutal and made for a great gory death scene.

Then, cut to Simon’s murder, which happened so fast and was so boring and dull and let me down beyond belief. Just the inconsistency of the suspense kind of threw me off and I would have liked to see more back and forth advantage between murderer and victim.

The Fear Street Lore

Again, the only Fear Street book I’ve actually read thus far has been The Knife, and that’s literally where all my Fear Street knowledge comes from. Basically, a bunch of weird stuff happens in Shadyside and it all centres around Fear St., which the movie changes to Fier St. As an aside, I did recently score a BUNCH of Fear Street books from a thrift store in my husband’s small town for FIFTY CENTS A BOOK. Even a first edition copy of The New Girl, which is currently going for $65 Canadian dollars on Thriftbooks?!

I don’t know if the books acknowledge any story of possession passing through the years to various members of the town or if this is solely a story developed for the movies, but Fear Street 1994 conveyed it all quite well, while also building us up for the prior incidents in 1987 and 1666 respectively. One the tropes of various Are You Afraid of the Dark? episodes that I fondly remember is kids coming together to solve an ages-old haunting and Fear Street 1994 does this exceptionally well with some added teenage profanity and raunchiness.

The Murderer(s)

One unexpected element of Fear Street 1994 was having not one, but THREE murderers, and not in the twist Scream way, but in a time-altered supernatural way. To be honest, I found this concept a bit confusing. The killers seemed to spawn off of various characters in the present, 1994. So we get three killers, including Ryan, who murdered Heather and was subsequently killed in the opening scene.

Mall Skeleton Dude

I found Ryan’s costume to be the least-threatening, maybe because I live in present-day where one can buy a pretty decent realistic skull mask from Spirit Halloween. I find “realistic” masks pretty lame these days and tend to prefer killer masks that break realism. Like the Ghostface mask wasn’t necessarily scary as it was unsettling in its distorted simplicity.

I thought the skull mask made him too much of a dude in a mask as opposed to a menacing killer.

Camp Burlap Guy

I suppose this killer is of significant importance because he’s the killer in the second movie, which follows the camp murders from 1978, which left one victim behind for our 1994 characters to attempt to seek advice from. He’s entirely faceless and wields an axe, which is pretty menacing, but I dunno, that one scene where they blocked the door in the hospital and it took him FOREVER to break through with his axe, like that just made him pretty weaksauce.

There’s also a scene where he’s pursuing Josh in the grocery store and his axe accuracy is so off that he gets it stuck and unrealistically struggles with trying to wrestle it free from the metal shelving and Josh scramples away with ease. Meh.

Hot Rockabilly Chick

She’s easily the scariest killer because the movie introduces her crouched on the sidewalk, singing. And OF COURSE Simon finds her and thinks she’s sexy, which make for a fantastic nod that the most ridiculous horror trope of them all.

“She was hot! I don’t know! The bitch seemed normal!”

Simon

And it’s true! I don’t know what it is about women singing and acting strange (and maybe we need to dissect this concept more because it’s probably due to some patriarchal stuff) but the character proved the most menacing in her intimacy and slow pursuit.

The Soundtrack

Yes, it’s good. But again, kind of pandering? I’m being an asshole because I hate scored scenes, honestly, and Fear Street kind of runs the gamut of 90s movie scoring trends of just tossing a song over a scene and making it fit.

Granted, I was also just 7 years old 1994, so the songs in here don’t resonate with me the same way that they do with older horror fans and I don’t say these things to disparage people’s memories. I do have these same “nostalgic pandering” issues with the way scenes are often scored in Stranger Things simply for the sake of saying OMG EVERYONE, WASN’T THE 80S GREAT! FASHION MONTAGE! I just hate it when it’s more about slapping the audience’s shoulder than it is about setting a good mood around a specific scene.

I prefer creative scoring, like the way HBO used Cardi B to score this brutal scene in Lovecraft Country, but that’s just my qualm and I think it’s totally okay if you wanna cuddle your Fear Street 1994 soundtrack in your dying embrace. Because again, we’re all gonna die from climate change and we need to find good things to distract us.

Social Commentary

First off, I feel that we’re at the point in society where pretty much any remake of an old beloved (and perhaps dated) favourite franchise tries to remake it with an intersectional lens. I have no problem with this, but more of then than not, the “woke” stuff always feels too inserted into the plot and, again, feels more pandering than creative.

Poverty

Fear Street 1994 kind of dips a gentle toe into economic disparity, and the poor kid in me really resonated with it. The movie never dives too deep into the issue to get preachy, but instead uses the issue to convey how this disparity affects our characters, mainly Deena and Sam.

LGBTQ+ Relationships

Fear Street 1994 also focuses on a WLW relationship between Deena and Sam, which I thought was wonderful. Now, of course, it could have looked into how these women faced hatred based on the attitudes toward same-sex relationships in 1994, but this is a horror movie about slashers. It focused solely on their relationship and made them both relatively rounded characters.

Systematic Racism

The one part of social commentary that bugged me was the subject of race and the police. The movie does convey the police sheriff(?) Goode as an imposing figure who we’ll find more about later. In the scene where he addresses the teens before the football game, we can see all the “Goode” banners in the background, so it’s clear that the Goode name has some prominent influence in the town.

At one point, we see a Black man locked in one of the jail cells, who Goode basically ignores. Then, later, at the movie’s end, the nameless prisoner has a moment with Josh that makes for a cute nod at today’s systematic racism and police brutality. Which is fine. I laughed. But I also rolled my eyes a bit because the scene was so clearly a nod at the audience and it just pulled me from the movie. Now, don’t get me wrong. It is a necessary commentary and would have made for a great Key and Peele skit, but I personally didn’t quite feel that it fit the movie in the same way that social commentary worked in the “Sundown” episode of Lovecraft Country, for instance.

My Final Thoughts on Fear Street 1994

I enjoyed the way Fear Street 1994 managed to tie supernatural killing lore with teenage social structures. It’s not an uncommon movie plot formula, but I like how this movie is a part of a trilogy, so it will be interesting to see how it links the 1994 timeline back and forth between the other two time periods. It’s a great homage to slashers of the 90s while addressing modern social commentary through its characters.

Again, while some of the panderings felt a bit too slap-in-the-face for my hipster millennial self, I can appreciate that their choice of music definitely resonated with the horror audience. I loved the subtle nods to horror tropes and (despite the characters being too smart) the quick reactions of some of the protagonists in the murder sequences.

Looking forward to the next instalment with Fear Street 1978.

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“The Fruits of Wartime” Now Out in RAVENS & ROSES

Last week, I told you all about my new story, an erotic gothic horror called “The Fruits of Wartime”. The story is pretty much everything you think it is and you can now read it in your hot little hands in Ravens & Roses, an anthology of women’s gothic horror from Quill & Crow Publishing House. Here’s a little excerpt to satiate you, or maybe even entice you, until you get a copy in your hot little hands.

The Fruits of Wartime

An Excerpt

Jacqueline was only ever good at making toast or sandwiches. She often tried to replicate some of Cecelia’s favourite meals, only to struggle and curse herself for failing at womanly chores. She could clean well, but she was much better at meddling, and sometimes, when the occasion was right, protesting.

Jacqueline sliced a chunk of meat from an overcooked chicken breast when she heard a car pull up in the gravel driveway outside. She peered through the window at the black vehicle that crawled into view. She hesitated, throwing out the entire chicken before answering the knock.

The man who stood at the door gawked at Jacqueline’s trousers. “She’s got a gardener answering the door now?”

“I’m not the gardener,” Jacqueline said. “I-I’m the housekeeper.”

The man narrowed his gaze. “Forgive me, but you don’t at all like a housekeeper.”

“I know,” she said. “We’ve been rather short-staffed.”

He pushed past her, stepping into the hall. “She wrote to me a while back,” he said, surveying the dimmed gas lamps and the dusty vases. “I’m sure she thought she was writing to Peter, but that alone was a sign that things weren’t going well.”

Jacqueline shut the door and turned. The guest had dark eyes, brown hair, his chin unshaven. The growing stubble cast a shadow over his jaw. He set his suitcase down and Jacqueline glanced at his left hand. No ring. 

“Are you Matthew?” she asked, her throat going tight. 

He nodded.

“Your mother hasn’t been herself since the deaths,” Jacqueline said. “She reads the paper but often forgets about the war.”

He expressed no concern for Cecelia, ducking instead toward the library. The sun slipped through the stained glass windows, but the mahogany shelves still made the room seem darker than it actually was.

“Do you want me to call on her?” Jacqueline asked.

“Not yet,” he said, picking a frame with Peter’s photo off the mantle. He stared for a while, but then set it down so hard that the other frames shook.

“You didn’t even attend the funerals,” Jacqueline said. 

“I’m sure my mother appreciated that,” he said, turning to her, cocking a smile.

“Didn’t you want to pay your respects?”

“Neither of them ever paid me much respect,” he said, looking at her for too long, enough to make her shift. Then he turned his gaze toward the shelf she’d searched the night before. 

She shifted. “I don’t much about you, Sir. People gossiped but—”

“You’re quite forward for a servant,” he said. “You’re asking questions that you probably shouldn’t. Why would she keep you, out of everyone else?”

Jacqueline made a fist over the shelf, straightening her spine as though she were still wearing a corset. “I was the last-hired maid. In the end, I was the only one she could afford to keep.”

He pushed into her personal space, his gaze settling over the tapered leg of her trousers, where the fabric clung to her ankles. “And so you do all the cooking and cleaning?”

“I try.” Jacqueline tried to stand firm. “I try to make things seem as normal as possible. She barely has enough money to keep the gas running.”

He smirked again, nodding at his suitcase in the hall. “Well, if you’re a half-decent maid, then I suppose I can trust you to take my things to a vacant room upstairs?”

His stare hardened her, but it still made her chest flare inside. She drew a breath, a bigger one than a corset would allow. 

“I can do that for you, Sir,” she said.

His smile quickly faded. “Matthew,” he said. “You asked for my name. Go ahead and use it.”

“Yes, Sir—. Sorry, Matthew,” she said, turning, hurrying to retrieve his bag.

Want to read more?

Buy your copy of RAVENS & ROSES now!

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