LAKE FOSSIL II: THE FOSSILING (Chapter 1) – Guest Blog by G.B. Michaels
Note: Recently, Nickolaus Pacione (a man from Illinois who has stalked, threatened, and/or harassed a large number of professional and amateur authors and editors, including myself) put out a call for people to write fan fiction stories based on his works. Unfortunately, no one has yet taken him up on his offer.
So, when G.B. Michaels emailed me last week to tell me that he was returning to writing horror fiction, but was worried that he’d been away too long and wasn’t sure where to begin, I suggested he start by answering Nicky’s call for stories. And then, to pay tribute to Nicky for all the years of attention he’s showered upon me, I offered to host G.B.’s fan fiction effort right here on this website. And so, without further ado, I am happy to present Chapter One of a new ongoing e-serial – Lake Fossil 2: The Fossiling.
Chapter One
“I am the one who is the one that was the one who will be the one in shadow that is darkness and not light and hidden from the dark yet in the dark and in and around the dark where the shadow falls on the dark where not light dwells and I…”
“Hey!” yelled the guy behind the counter. “Are you going to stand over there muttering like a fucking lunatic all day, or are you going to buy something?”
Nicolaus stopped muttering to himself while staring at the magazine rack full of pornography he so desperately wanted to buy, and approached the counter with a bottle of YooHoo and a candy bar. The guy behind the counter was still staring at him, no doubt wondering if he was going to start yammering things again, so Nicolaus thought that perhaps he should explain himself.
“Sorry,” he muttered while digging several well worn dollar bills from the pockets of his filthy and oddly stained pants. “I’m a writer, and was working on a story out loud. I do that a lot”.
The guy gave him an odd look (well, no odder than the looks he had been giving Nicolaus since he walked into the store, since Nicolaus looked like the sort of homeless guy that the rest of the homeless guys would point at and laugh). “A writer you say? Have you written anything I might have heard of?”
Nicolaus’s eyes lit up. A CHANCE TO PROMOTE MY WORK! he thought to himself. He straightened up from his normal bent posture, and asked “Have you ever read FORSAKEN STORIES OF A COLLECTED LANDSCAPE?”
“No, never heard of it,” the Counter Guy said.
“Hmm, how about LIBRARY OF UNKNOWN HORRORS SO UNKNOWN YOU WILL NOT KNOW THEM?”
“No, not that one either.”
“TORNADOES AND VOLCANOES: AN ANTHOLOGY OF DISASTROUS STORIES?”
“no”
“THE SHADOW THAT IS ON THE EYE THAT IS IN SHADOW? HOUSE OF SPIDERS? HOUSE OF SPIDERS 2: MORE SPIDERING? HOUSE OF SPIDERS 3: JUST AN INSANE AMOUNT OF SPIDERING?”
“No, can’t say I have.”
“Sir, do you even read horror?”
“Oh sure”, replied the counter guy, as he started to ring up Nicolaus’s vast number of purchases, “I like Stephen King. And that Brian Keene fella is usually pretty good”.
Nicolaus’s reeled back in shock “Keene? Brian Keene? That guy is a hack. I refuse to believe anyone would be entertained by that dreck!”
“Well, he’s usually pretty good. Sometimes he can’t end a story. And that thing with the possessed coyote or whatever in GHOST WALK was pretty fucking stupid.” He put the items in a bag and moved them towards Nicolaus, in a dire attempt to get him out of the store and out of this conversation. “Anything else I can do for you today?”
Nicolaus, still reeling from the fact that someone, ANYONE, could be entertained by Keene, managed to sputter out, “I do need directions to Lake Fossil. I’m headed up there to write a book about it.”
“Oh, OK. Well, it’s pretty easy. See that giant sign across the street with the words LAKE FOSSIL and the giant arrow below it pointing to the right? I’d head in that direction.”
Nicolaus looked out the window at the front of the store to see that yes, there was a sign out there just as the shopkeeper described. Pleased to now have a direction to walk towards, he reached out for his bag, then paused for a moment, as if he suddenly realized something. Most would assume at this point he was realizing he had not taken a bath in quite some time, but instead he pulled off the beaten backpack from his back and rummaged around among the indescribable (and trust me, you don’t want them described to you) contents inside, until he found a really beaten magazine. He placed that upon the counter, and said, “Here, a gift, a copy of my magazine PURPOSE OF TABLOIDS: A HORROR GAZETTE OF HORROR AND HORRIBLENESS.”
The guy behind the counter took one look at it, made sure not to touch it as there seemed to be similar stains on the magazine as there were on Nicolaus’s pants, and said, “Um, thanks. I believe I have a cat box this can be stored in.”
“I wrote all the stories in this issue,” Nicolaus proudly proclaimed, quite pleased with himself.
“Why am I not surprised by this?” replied the guy, who was now looking about for some sort of object, preferably sharp or at least really heavy, to use to persuade this idiot to get out of his store. But his fears were unnecessary, as Nicolaus gathered up his stuff, and headed towards the door, muttering something about a lake and creatures in it hiding in water shadows.
The counter guy watched Nicolaus cross the road, stare at the giant LAKE FOSSIL sign for a lot longer than any human really should need to do, and then trudge off in the direction that the oh so helpful arrow indicated for him. He waited until he was out of sight, then picked up is phone and dialed a number. The call was answered quickly.
“Yes, I have someone headed towards you,” the shopkeeper said. “Wake the Kraken…”
TO BE CONTINUED…
Coming up in Chapter 2: The Horror In The Shadow’s Shadow, or: Sleeping Bag of Terror!
G.B. Michaels writes non-fiction focusing on the horror genre, as well as the occasional short horror tale. His writing has appeared in Jobs In Hell, RLK – Richard Laymon Kills, Up From the Underground, and more. This is his first book-length work.
