Chad A. Clark's Blog, page 12

Baked Scribe Flashback : Erinyes

 

Rex had laughed it off at first, the sniveling idiot and his pitiful begging. It was his life savings and now he wouldn’t be able to support his family. Please. Well, maybe the little twerp would be more careful about who he gave his money to from now on. All it had taken was a little sweet talk, and Rex had gotten his hands on all of it. If the moron was going to make it that easy, didn’t he deserve to be swindled? He paid no attention to the pathetic threats. You’re going to pay for this. There’s gonna be a reckoning. Straight out of a shitty B-movie.

Now, as he stood in the alley, looking up into the darkening sky and feeling the grumble of thunder in his bones, he started to doubt that bravado. The weather had called for clear skies, but the expanse of thunderheads, combined with the flashes of lightening had once again proven the weatherman to be fallible.

The sound of the wind increased and he paused, thinking for just a moment that he had heard the sound of something beating against the air, like giant wings. He looked up, just as the dark shape swooped down and grabbed him, pulling him off his feet and straight up towards the storm clouds above.

It was a woman, except for the wings of course, and the claws, which were now breaking skin and digging into his arms. The thing screamed at him with an unearthly rage that he had never heard or felt before. It reverberated in his head with the anger of every person he had ever ripped off in any number of bad business deals over the years. He couldn’t explain why he made the connection, but there it was. He didn’t know where this avenging creature had come from or how it had found him, but he had built a life on his ability to talk himself out of trouble.

“Wait, I can fix whatever—” A hand snaked down and darted into his mouth, mid-sentence and pulled. He screamed as his mouth filled with blood and he watched his tongue tumbling off into open space.

Arms and claws flashed around him, ripping and pulling. Through his pain, he struggled to draw in breath from the rapidly thinning air and then, just as he was starting to feel his eyes bulge out, the hold on him was gone and he was in free fall. He watched as the ground below, littered with distant specks of buildings grew larger. He writhed around in his descent, trying desperately to wave arms and legs that, he discovered, were no longer even there.

 

Baked Scribe Flashback : Datsue-ba

 

The last thing Lorenzo remembered was being on the boat. That his own death could have happened so quickly, and that he had taken so little note of it was astounding to him.

He was now standing in a small group of people, none of whom he recognized. They were of various ages and sizes, different ethnicities. They might have been fellow passengers from the boat, but there was no way to know for sure. They all milled around, waiting.

In the clearing ahead, there was a wide, raging river, and standing next to it was one of the oldest women he had ever seen, dressed in rotting rags of clothing and waving a large walking stick around at the crowd. One by one, members of the group would come forward to face her. He had no idea what she was saying, but she shrieked at them and gestured at a small, pathetic looking tree growing along the river’s bank. The people would then disrobe and hang their clothes from the branches. The woman scrutinized the clothing as it hung and the punishment would soon follow.

One man had held out his hands, as if in offering. She had taken hold of them and twisted as she crushed, snapping both of the wrists as well as his fingers. He screamed out in agony, clutching his hands to his chest as the woman jerked her head back, gesturing for him to cross the river. Another person was burned until their eyes were nothing but charred flesh. Still another was beaten cruelly by her walking stick until he was left huddled and quivering on the ground.

“She sits in judgment over all of us.” The man on his right had spoken, sensing Lorenzo’s confusion at the scene. “In order to cross over the Sanzu river, you must first be judged for your sins in life. She uses your clothes, examines how much the branches bend under the weight of your sin and punishes you accordingly.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the revelation, now recalling the fiery explosion on the boat that had burned his clothes away. She would have nothing to use for him. When the woman gestured for him, he stepped forward quickly, ready to be permitted to pass over the river.

His confidence quickly slackened at the caricatured expression of joy he saw on her face as she began to cackle and leap around the riverbank, as if in celebration. He looked back at his source of information in the crowd, the man who was now avoiding eye contact and shifting uncomfortably.

“Datsue-ba says that, since you are lacking clothing, she will be happy to use your skin as a substitute.”

Issue #169 : On The Hunt

 

Richard looked out over the rain battered street, through the huddled crowd of police officers and at the body, crumpled on the ground. The normal foot traffic of the city flowed around the crime scene, taking no notice of something that had become expected on any given night.

“Are you sure this is one of them?” he asked, turning to Jacob. “This is the second one already tonight.”

Jacob nodded without turning to look at him. “I heard all the details on the police scanner. They mentioned the marks on the body so I’m pretty sure our subject is starting to get greedy.”

Richard looked back at the police, absorbed in what had happened on that street corner. A few tourists strolling past stopped to take pictures but other than that, nothing about what was happening seemed unusual. Still, there was only one way to know for sure.

“Okay,” he said. “Go ahead and stop everything and we’ll take a look.”

Jacob took a rusted watch from his pocket and flipped open the cover. He cupped the watch in his hands for several seconds, eyes closed as his lips moved silently. A soft light began to emanate from the time piece, growing in intensity before dying back down. Jacob opened his eyes, looked up at the scene before him and gently turned the dial on the side of the watch.

In an instant, the world around them began to slow, as if whatever it was that powered the world was simply stopping. People’s footsteps slowed and conversation came to a stop. Soon, the only sound around them was that of the rain falling softly. Cars in the streets had ceased their movements, the drivers inside frozen in place and immobile. The pedestrians on the sidewalk had also come to a complete halt, frozen in mid-motion. It was like looking at a three dimensional snap-shot of the world.

Richard nodded and stood up. “Let’s go check things out.”

They approached the body, weaving in and out of the officers, now inanimate. There was no life in their eyes as they passed through to examine the victim. Richard gently moved the frozen shape of one officer slightly to the side to make room as he knelt down next to the person. There was no external trauma that he could detect but the skin had become devoid of color, so pale that it looked like it had been dead for months, not hours.

“Who is it?” Jacob asked, huddling over Richard as he examined the body.

“No idea. Looks like a college student but no way to know. Doesn’t look like there are any personal items. Why don’t you check the cruisers there and see if the police collected anything already?”

Jacob nodded and strode off. They had to move quickly. The timepiece could stop everything, but it would only hold for about ten minutes. Richard reached down and gently pulled the blouse away from her neck. No sign there but again, it didn’t mean anything. He placed his hands on her skin and gently massaged it, moving down the body to feel for anything out of the ordinary.

About halfway down her back, he detected a nodule of hardened skin under her shirt. Putting both hands underneath her, he carefully rolled the body, pulling up her shirt and looking at the skin. It was the kind of thing that would likely be casually dismissed in an autopsy as an insect bite or growth, but he knew what he was looking at. The puncture wounds in such close, perfect proximity was as big of a giveaway as you could ask for.

Standing up, he gestured for Jacob.

“Did you find anything?”

“Look, the thing took her blood out through her back. They’re getting better at hiding their tracks. They hardly ever go for the obvious spots on the body anymore, but it’s nearly impossible to completely hide the marks. I don’t know how this nest made its way into town without us noticing before now, but we either have an infestation on our hands or one, very powerful individual. And these killings are just going to get worse.”

Richard straightened and began peered around the street. “Look around and see if there’s anyone who looks out of place.”

Jacob nodded as he began to scan the crowds. “What am I looking for?”

“It’s hard to explain it for sure. They’re experts at blending in and looking like they belong, no matter where they are. This is beyond camouflage, its almost like they can trick you into forgetting what you were looking for. One thing though, chances are they won’t be affected by your time piece.”

Richard scrutinized the crowds, trying to gaze through the darkness and past the falling rain. It was unlikely that the thing would still be here. Vampires rarely stayed behind to watch after killing. The victim at that point was nothing more than a husk to them, an empty vessel. Still, they needed to be thorough.

“Look!” Jacob said and Richard turned to look in the direction he was pointing. In that moment, there was a clattering sound of something being knocked off onto the ground. From across the street, he heard a hissing sound as a dark figure leaped up, above the crowd and onto the side of the nearest building. Without even a glance back, it scampered up the wall like a spider, vaulting up onto the roof and out of sight.

“Come on!” Richard grabbed Jacob by the arm. “That was all for show. It can’t fly so that means its trapped up there on the roof.”

“We have to follow.”

 

Tracing The Trails Of The King

In case you missed it yesterday, click here to check out the third and final part of my review of Stephen King’s IT. Tracing The Trails Of The King has moved to a new home! Check it out and make sure you follow it to get the latest reviews as soon as they come out.

Baked Scribe Flashback : Ciguapa

 

Hidalgo tossed the empty wine glass to the side and took the walking path, down from the plantation, along the winding bend, and up the slope that led to the mountains looming above. It was when he passed the thick grove of trees that he heard the sound of the woman singing. The rich tones floated out to him like sweet perfume and he felt like he had been tethered, drawn forward for a closer look. The woman had her back to him and at first he couldn’t even what she was doing in there, but it looked like some kind of exotic, sensual yoga. He admired her body as she twisted and contorted herself into various positions, evidently oblivious to his presence.

He took another step forward and stepped on a branch, the sound filling the grove and shattering the moment, or so he thought. She turned to look back at him and in an instant, his entire universe could have been contained within those two giant, glistening eyes. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and even as he tried to speak, he knew that his vocal cords wouldn’t be up to the test.

While she was clearly naked, she had somehow wrapped her long strands of hair around her body to give the illusion of clothing. He felt himself stepping closer, drawn in by his need, his desire for her. Her lips seemed to turn up into a smile of invitation and possibility, while the swell of her breasts made his breath start to run short. She held her arms out to him and there had never been any place that he wanted to be as badly as this. He wanted to pull her to him, sweeping aside the voluminous hair as he pressed his body against hers.

His fingers were just about to brush against that smooth skin when, in an instant, the whites of her eyes blazed and were replaced with the bright blow of unearthly rage and vengeance. The lips that had looked so soft and seductive now peeled back to reveal a row of razor sharp teeth, already stained in what looked like crusted blood.

The thing was on him in an instant, shrieking so loudly that it looked like the trees themselves trembled from the sound. The hands that had once seemed so soft, were now claws, ripping into his arms, taking flesh and tissue with them as they pulled. He screamed, knowing full well that there was no way anyone at the plantation could hear him over the din of the party.

He screamed again, regardless, as the pain pushed away all rational thought, and the darkness in the shadows around him started to swell. Taking one long, distorted look at the woman as she crouched over him, tearing into the meaty part of his thigh, all he could hope was that he would pass out before she got much farther into her meal.

 

Baked Scribe Flashback : Baykok

 

Shaw looked up from the fire and the smells of his cooking dinner towards the sound coming from the tree line. It could have been a deer stepping on dead branches, but from the echo, it had sounded like bones popping. He shook his head and went back to tending the fire. The shitty job back in Detroit was supposed to be the source of his stress, not this place. His hunting and camping trips up here to the upper peninsula were supposed to be the remedy. Still, he had been uneasy these last few nights, some instinct in the back of his mind feeling restless, telling him that somehow he was becoming the hunted.

His head shot up at the new sound that erupted, this time that of footsteps marching out from the trees and he jumped up at the sight.

“What the Christ?” he yelled as he stood, nearly tripping over the log he had been sitting on and began looking around for his rifle.

From the light of the fire, he could see the thing striding towards him. It looked like one of the model skeletons from high school science rooms, but with ragged strips of sinewy flesh hanging off of it, eyes blazing with a red light that hurt to look at.

Shaw had his hands around the stock of the gun, but the thing had already produced a bow and drew it back. He could see no arrow notched, but when the bowstring snapped, he felt the burning impact in his shoulder and was thrown to the ground. Burning that started in his shoulder, spread to the rest of his body, and in a blink of a moment, he was lying on his back, completely immobilized. He tried to move, to struggle and get away, but no part of his body responded to the commands.

He was being thrown down next to the fire, on his back. He could see everything around him and feel what was happening, but was lost inside himself, unable to articulate anything, even in his mind. He saw the animate corpse produce a long, silver dagger, and in a moment of unadulterated pain, the thing stabbed and sliced down his midsection. As his consciousness dwindled, he was ushered off by the moist sounds of something off in the dark chewing, food being sloppily and greedily consumed.

* * *

It had been campers who brought the man in. He had come stumbling out of the woods, delirious and raving about a skeleton attacking him, and while he was clearly sick, barely able to stand under his own power, the doctors could not figure out what was wrong. John Doe lingered under intensive care for several hours while they conducted tests and ran out their best guesses but, in the end, they were unable to save him.

It wasn’t until during the autopsy that they finally found the large rock that had been placed inside of him, precisely where his liver should have been.

 

Tracing The Trails Of The King : An Update

Greetings and best wishes to all of you out there. I wanted to keep you all in the loop on this, in that I have made the decision to move the Tracing The Trails Of The King project to a new home. It will be carrying on, same as it has up until now, but it will have its own dedicated site. I think it will be better in its own home as it continues to grow in size and scope. I will put links here whenever I post a new review, in case you don’t feel like following an additional blog, but the entirety of the content has been moved to the new site. So if you want to check out one of the older reviews, you will have to go there. If you check out the tab on this site for Tracing The Trails, you will find a link to the new home.
Click on the image below to check out the new site. Thanks again for your interest and support!

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Issue #168 : Incursions

 

Cooper leaned forward in his seat and nodded towards the bartender for another. The glass came sliding down at him, the alcohol already starting to mist up out of the fluid. He leaned over and breathed in the vapors. His head began to swim immediately as he drained the glass. The floor underneath him pitched and at first he took it for the rapid effects of the alcohol but soon realized that the ship had changed course.

He still felt unsteady as he pushed back from the bar. Using the excuse of slamming a coin down the counter, he leaned on it for support until the dizziness passed. He tugged on his jacket to straighten it and walked out into the corridor.

Everyone he passed knew full well how drunk he was, there was no attempt to hide it. Still, he appreciated the ability to put on a somewhat stoic face as he passed on his way to the control room. He could also see that no one really cared. It wasn’t like the crew of a sanctioned freighter. This was mostly smugglers looking out for their own bottom lines. He didn’t even want to guess how many “under the table” shipments were piggybacking along with the normal freight. He ignored their deals on the side and they ignored his less-than-professional habits.

“What the hell is going on?” He asked as he yanked open the door to control. The pilot barely looked up.

“Heavy energy readings up ahead. Could be another border skirmish. If it is, I just want to keep us clear for when the Trans-Union ships show up to clean up the mess.”

“Okay, but we’re nowhere near—” he cut himself off, already sensing the man’s irritation, even with his back turned. Some fights just weren’t worth having. He glanced at the screen near him and verified that they would still arrive ahead of schedule. Still, he had to say something. “Increase speed ten percent to make up for the correction.”

Cooper sat down, looking around for the coffee that wasn’t there. For at least the tenth time on this run, he wondered again if he could tolerate the increase in his cost to actually have a crew that would do things for him.

The deck under his feet began to vibrate, possibly suggesting a problem but more than likely the pilot had simply taken his time in actually following instructions. It was a horrible excuse for an existence but it was also the only option he really had.

As he thought this, his eyes started to droop, the edges of sleep working its way into his train of thought. No one would care if he shut down for a while.

Still, it was as if all eyes suddenly were focused on him, searing out at him silently, out of spite and judgment. The thought made him squirm as he reached up for his battered, oil-stained hat and pulled it down over his eyes. What did he care what people thought about him? He made sure they got their payday. The ship was its own little ecosystem of self-interest. Who was he to stand in the way?

He was on the verge of sleep when he felt the presence behind him. It was as if someone had sneaked up on him and was about to lean down over the chair. Cooper jumped and spun around to lash out at whoever had bothered him.

No one was there.

The lights flickered above him, as if there was some kind of a power surge. He turned to ask the pilot what had happened but was distracted by the view screen, also flickering on and off. What he could see between flashes was a field devoid of stars, nothing but pitch black sprawling away from them.

“Where the hell are we?” He asked.

He received no response from the crew. The pilot sat without moving, his back turned indifferently to Cooper. It wasn’t the first time he had seen a certain level of rebellious attitude from them but this situation could be dangerous. He strode over and spun him around in his chair.

Cooper jumped back, tripping over his own feet and toppling over backwards in the process. His pilot sat there, rigid in the chair. The slackened expression on his face had been permanently etched there, his mouth and eyes replaced by gaping, cavernous holes.

“What the Christ?” Cooper rushed back, tripping over a console in the process. From the floor, he looked around at the crew and saw the same thing on every face.

Pressing down he pushed off, trying to stand, but his hands slipped out from underneath him. No, they didn’t slip. Something had struck him, knocking his arms out before he could rise. Still, he saw no one else around him.

“You were warned.” A deeply resonant voice uttered from around him.

“What?” He yelled. Sweat flung from the strands of his hair as he whipped his head around, trying to see who had spoken. “Who’s there?”

“You were told not to intrude into this vector space. You were warned of the consequences.”

“Wait, what the hell are you talking about? Who are you?”

“The first stage was the warning. The second stage is to demonstrate the consequences for failing to heed our warning.”

“Wait, please I don’t know anything about… Please don’t hurt me, you can’t—”

“You will be returned to your people as a cautionary tale.”

Cooper felt his body tense as one of the view screens came to life, playing what looked like surveillance footage of his control room. Someone darted from station to station, killing the men who happened to be there. Cooper struggled to his knees and crawled to the terminal, beginning to cry as he recognized the killer.

Feeling his hands trembling, Cooper looked down and saw that somehow they had become coated with blood. He shook his head. This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible.

The deck pitched underneath him as the ship started to change course and pick up speed. Looking back to one of the panels, he saw the body of his dead pilot, animated as if attached to puppet strings. The arms and hands were manipulating the controls, limbs pulled jerkily by some unseen force, driving the ship away from whatever they had been approaching.

Cooper collapsed into the chair that he had forgotten was behind him. Fingers he couldn’t see pressed down, pushing harder until he started to worry about his bones breaking. The ship throttled again, causing the star-field to go streaky before them as they went. He felt the skin on his face stretching back against his skull and took a tighter hold on the armrests, the whole time feeling like his entire body was melting.

* * *

“Was the captain ever located?”

“No. There were some remains that we couldn’t identify, but otherwise he hasn’t been found among the dead.”

The director frowned as he leaned over the monitor to watch the footage again. The unmistakable figure of the captain moved slowly from crew-member to crew-member, killing them each methodically.

“Why wasn’t there any resistance?” One of the deputies asked. “They just sat there.”

“No idea.” The director paused the playback and zoomed in on the wall which Cooper had been writing on, seemingly in someone’s blood.

“What does it say?” the deputy asked.

“Stay away. There will be no further warnings.” The director shook his head. Wherever Cooper was, he needed to be brought in. “The guy has got to be out there somewhere,” he said. “We can’t let this go unanswered.” He picked up a nearby clipboard and scanned it down the list.

“Get a crew scrambled and pick a ship. I want our people back out there.”

 

Tracing The Trails Of The King : IT, part two

DISCLAIMER!!!!!!
While I don’t normally do this, the second part of this review contains some spoilers in the interests of discussing this issue thoroughly. So if you haven’t read the book yet, I would suggest turning back now. If you do so, thank you for stopping in and don’t forget about the third and final part next Monday.

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This book has arguably one of the most controversial scenes in the entire King catalog, one that has gotten IT banned from more than a few libraries. It is such a challenging scene that I could see many publishers today passing on it unless it was removed.

If you are reading this I’m guessing you already know that I am talking about the sex scene between Beverly and all six of the other members of the Loser’s Club in the depths under Derry. Following their defeat of Pennywise, the group finds themselves wandering lost through the tunnels under the town, growing progressively more desperate and crazed as they go.

Beverly is the one who comes up with a solution, what she realizes she has to do to save all of them and in the end, that means taking each one of them, one at a time and having sex with them.

Right there in the sewer.

First, let me clear about this. I think there are plenty of examples of content in books where people just need to relax a little and not take things so seriously. In this case however, I wouldn’t think any less of someone who refuses to read something like this. Trust me, I get how difficult and uncomfortable it can be to contemplate children having sex. And these aren’t even teenagers we’re talking about here, these are basically twelve year olds. The scene can be extremely disturbing when taken in the wrong context and I won’t try and tell you to think otherwise.

All that aside, I will try and shed some light on why I think the scene is actually kind of important to the story.

I would like to think this would be obvious but in this day and age, you never know. So just to be on the safe side let me be clear that in no way am I endorsing the idea of children having sex. This is purely limited to the confines of a fictional story with fictional characters and how I see the sex in this scene as more of a metaphor than being titillating or amoral.

First of all, by this point of the story the Loser’s Club were just as much victims of Pennywise as any of the others. But instead of losing their lives, what they lost was their childhood and their innocence. It starts with the horrors they have to endure and by the time they confront and defeat Pennywise, they have stopped being children. What’s more, having gone through that together, they share an intensely intimate, emotional bond. How better to represent that than with the most adult and emotionally intimate of physical acts?

Also, in the wake of this traumatic event, what we see is our heroes falling apart. Not from a lack of bravery but because for all of us there is a breaking point past which we can go no farther. And for them, I believe that if things had gone on in this fashion as they fled from Pennywise’s lair, they all would have gone mad and died, alone and insane down in those sewers.

My point is that Beverly had to do something dramatic and desperate in order to save them all and remind them of their most potent weapon and source of strength.

Each other.

Their bond and their strength together was what allowed them to persevere so I think it makes sense that the use of this physical bond could help re-forge the emotional bond they needed to escape. Pennywise was a creature that fed off of fear so how better to stave off that fear with passion and love for each other?

Ultimately, the point I am trying to make is that when the Losers’ Club defeated Pennywise, there was a moment of passing over a threshold, one which they would never be able to cross back over again. How better to represent that than to show them taking their first sexual steps into the awareness of adulthood, another step which can never be turned back from.

Friendship is love. Love is intimacy.

I think great writing challenges you, forces you to engage your own moral center and ask yourself how you really feel about whatever it is you are reading. This book and this scene in particular is a perfect example. If I was the parent of one of those kids, would I be okay it? Not really. But the book makes me think. The book makes me feel.

Ultimately, this is what all good art should make you do.

My name is Chad Clark and I am proud to be a constant reader.

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Baked Scribe Flashback : Ala

 

The ship was bathed in blood.

At least, that was what it looked like, from across the twenty feet that separated the two vessels as they passed each other. Gavin leaned over the side rail and tried to get the attention of the one person on the other ship that he could see. The man was crouched down on his knees on the deck, rocking back and forth, screaming incomprehensibly.

“Eli, what the hell is he saying?”

Eli was staring at the man, mouthing the words silently as if he was trying to figure that out himself. He shook his head as he answered. “Something about a snake. A snake with wings in…in the clouds?”

Gavin looked back at the plume of cloud cover that swooped down across the water towards them. The sight of the sudden, impenetrable clouds was unsettling enough, but add to that the image of the vessel coming forth from those clouds transporting such human carnage.

“Maybe we should turn—”

“Too late.”

Gavin looked back at Eli and saw the man now standing completely erect, his arms hanging limply at his sides, staring up at the sky with his mouth hanging open.

“Eli? What’s wrong?”

His friend dropped his head back down to look at Gavin, who took an immediate step back. Eli’s eyes had glazed over and all he could see was the whites, with bright lines of veins cutting across the surface.

“I shall have you now.” Eli’s voice had taken on a modulated tone, sounding almost female to him. Gavin turned back towards the bow and saw the clouds rushing in to overtake them. In an instant, they were engulfed in swirling, gray smoke. A black shape passed overhead, so close that a hot breeze trailing behind knocked them all to their feet.

The boat floated through smoke, endlessly, until finally it broke through into what must have been the center of the cloud, a patch of raging sea underneath a bubble of otherwise clear sky. Thunder crashed from the cloud and flashes of static electricity rippled from within as well. Gavin heard a sound and looked up, slack jawed as the dark shape flew out from the cloud cover and could be seen clearly for the first time.

“Snake? That’s a God dammed dragon.”

The inconceivable sight of the winged beast bearing down on them caused some of the men to jump overboard, screaming frantically. One by one, the demon plucked them out of the water, showering the boat with blood as it bit down on its victims.

“Too late for you to turn back now.” The voice of whatever was possessing Eli spoke one more time before his head was twisted violently, by the unseen force that had taken hold. Gavin could hear the bones cracking from where he was standing, and watched as the body of his best friend fell limply to the deck.

He looked around him as his crew started to be taken from the ship and the blood began to rain down in heavier torrents. He heard the shrieking cries and looked up into the visage of hunger and desire on the face of the thing as it swooped down on him, flesh torn, and pain, followed not quickly enough by eternal night.