Sunday, April 27, 2014

Scene Exercise

A friend and I are currently working on a joint project based on a childhood memory. Of course it wasn't as sick and twisted in real life as we plan on making the story, but we're horror writers not memoir writers.
This was just a scene exercise I did today, trying to get a feel for my main character and his relationship to the evil Alphabet People that torment him. Enjoy. Or don't, either way I'm having a beer, so it's all good here.

Josh sat alone in the warmth of the sand behind the swing set, toward the edge of the kindergarten playground, plowing through the sea of white grains with a toy bulldozer. He loved the solitude, the time to himself, where his own imagination was the only obstacle to his creativity.

As the dozer sliced neatly through an adjoining road to make a sandy intersection, a glimmer caught his eye. The dozer’s plastic blade had uncovered a treasure buried in the sand. Josh inspected his newfound relic. An old glass marble. At least he thought it was old. Perhaps long lost by some kid many years before his time here. He rolled it between his soft fingers, feeling the jagged rough edge where a slice of it was missing, cleaved off in perhaps a fierce skittles battle in the sand.

The edge of the broken marble was sharp as a razor. He looked across the playground and into the dusty window of the classroom, where Mr. G glared back at him in all of his inflatable madness. The marble threatened to slice into his palm as he clutched it, staring intensely  at the horrible little person, or letter, whatever Mr. G was. Was it sneering at him with its big white rubber teeth?

“I could cut you,” he said quietly to Mr. G. “I wonder if you’ll bleed if I slice you up with this.”

Mr. G, and all the rest of the Alphabet People, A through F, sitting upon their shelf, were watching him now. They were always watching. Always listening. Mr. G spoke in his gravelly voice, “No, I won’t bleed, Josh. But she will.”

Josh looked over to see Lisa sitting on the monkey bars playing with a doll. “She thinks you’re ugly and dumb. I bet you’d like to see her bleed,” Mr. G said through his overly huge smile.

“Who, Lisa?” Josh asked. “No, she’s real nice. She’d never say that about anyone.”

Josh stood and brushed the sand from his pants. He’d show him. He marched over to where Lisa sat, careful not to disturb his road system in the sand, and pulled up a bar next to her. “Look what I found, Lisa,” he said, opening his hand so that the sun made the marble a mini sunburst upon his palm.

He held it out to her so she could inspect it on her own. She reached for it, feeling it’s warmth and smooth roundness, probing the jagged edge of the sheared off portion.

“It’s really pretty,” she said.


The recess bell startled them both. Josh jerked his hand back and the razor sharp edge of the marble raced its way across Lisa’s soft fingers, slicing into them savagely. Lisa cried out in surprise and pain, clutching at her bleeding fingers. She looked at Josh, hurt and horror painted on her face. The tears began and she ran off in search of Miss Bettes.

“See, she bleeds real nice, Josh, real nice. Just like I said she would.”

Josh bent down to retrieve his now bloodied marble from the sand where it had fallen, his own tears peeking from the corners of his eyes now. He locked eyes with Mr. G, fury burning through his veins. Mr. G and A through F were laughing. Laughing hysterically at him and what he had done. He hated them. He hated them all so much. And he swore to himself, someday he would cut them too. But, he’d cut them all the way through and they would laugh no more.

Friday, April 18, 2014

A No Story Easter

crazy artwork by Jim Boring

Sadly I wasn't able to complete the short Easter story I wanted to post this weekend. Life and my paying job got in the way as usual. It was basically going to be a warm, fuzzy feel-good tale about a group of teens who decide to go camping one Easter weekend and are, in the middle of the night, attacked and torn to shreds by cute man-eating bunnies that pop up out of the ground.

I know what you're thinking...Guy, that doesn't sound like a story you'd write. Bunnies? Good times? Flesh ripped from bone around a warm camp fire? Well, it's the holiday I guess. Must have softened my spirit.

But, don't worry. My friend and I are working on something that will make up for it all. Something even the mentally ill will shun. So, in the meantime, have a wonderful Easter, and remember, blood-lusting bunnies are among us. There's probably one watching you right this minute!

Friday, April 11, 2014

The Humane Way

This is a short piece of flash fiction I did for a publication that decided not to pick it up for whatever reason. It gets the same reaction from everyone that reads it, which was planned when I wrote it. I like it. Maybe you will too. If nothing else you can stare at the wonderful artwork my good friend Jim Boring so graciously drew for it, until you go stark raving mad.

The Humane Way
by Guy Medley with artwork by Jim Boring

She looked at him through misting eyes, fighting back without much success the sting of tears. Poor thing. His old bones must be so tired, so full of pain and suffering, far beyond her understanding. His once vigor stature and golden sheen now reduced to a droopy sad old thing, grey and mottled and washed out by the years. His once jeweled eyes now little more than desolate orbs of pain.

But, he had far outlived his expected years. His life had been a good one.

He had been a good companion in life, for both her and the children. Always there. Always at their side. Forever loyal. But it was time they let go. Time they let him go. She knew this day would eventually rear its ugly head. They had all known.

The children will miss him terribly. They laughed at his playful clumsiness, the way he ran with them and played with them and showered his undying love upon them. Now his tired limbs lay shrouded in mourning for those glorious days of play.

She gazed lovingly down on his old twisted frame, his big doey eyes fixed on her like the loving old boy he was. He managed a soft whimper, a sign of his love. She would miss him like no other before.

She would even miss his smell, which even now smelled of the garden, his favorite place to be. Lavender and hydrangea and honeysuckle, all filled her nose and brought a smile to her face. It was like he had just come from his spot in the yard and perhaps he had.

No more, she thought. She couldn’t wait any longer or she wouldn’t be able to go through with what needed to be done.

A tear spilled down from her eye, marking a trail across her red cheek. It was time to let him go. It was time to end his long and needless suffering. She took some small comfort in knowing he’d soon be at peace, resting under the big shady elm out back, near his garden, beside all the others they had planted there over the years.

Not to worry my love, she thought, it’ll all be over soon enough.

She leaned over and kissed the top of her husband’s bald, hot head as she plunged the needle into his jugular, injecting the lethal dose of potassium chloride into his bloodstream. As his heart stopped, hers raced.

Now, off to find the children a new daddy. 

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Stuff Worth Checking Out This Week

A few new things going on this week. First, a new book by Todd Keisling is set for release on April 4. It's the final book of his "Ugly Little Things" series, and in his own words, he wants this volume of tales to "End  with a bang". This series has been a great read and I'm really looking forward to reading this latest installment. I've included (hopefully with his blessing) Todd's own synopsis for 'The Harbinger' below.

Welcome to Dalton, West Virginia, home of the famous toy company, Dalton Dollworks. Founded in the late 1970s, the Dollworks has built a reputation around its quaint, lifelike dolls—and now the company is poised to go worldwide.
Meet journalist Felix Proust. He’s been invited to Dalton for an exclusive interview with Maggie Eloquence, CEO of the Dalton Dollworks. Thing is, he’s been in town for all of five minutes and he already knows something isn’t quite right. The stench of manure is everywhere, all the adults seem to be over sixty, and the children regard him with silent contempt.
Felix isn’t about to let this odd town get to him. He does have a job to do, after all. But as the day wears on, Felix learns there’s more to Dalton than meets the eye, and that some dark secrets should remain buried deep in the earth at all costs . . .
THE HARBINGER is the latest entry in Todd Keisling’s Ugly Little Things series, offering a startling new vision of unsettling horror that leaves the reader holding their breath until the very end.

Second, Anthony Rapino has started up a page on Patreon, which is a sort of Kickstarter type idea, but where donations go toward ongoing projects instead of a single project goal. I really like Anthony's horror writing, and I want him to be motivated to write more, so to me this seems like a cool idea. If you can throw a buck or two a month his way I'm sure he'll greatly appreciate it. Plus, if you donate you'll get all sorts of goodies, like access to new work all the way up to editing help. Help this deserving writer out. If nothing else maybe it'll allow him to finally afford a hair cut. (Just kidding Tony!)
Here's the link: