?

Log in

... and a small amount of ones of acceptance.

But this is about a rejection.

An e-zine was asking for short story submissions of around 200 words. I sent one in. It was not accepted. I have no idea what to do with it. Poor thing, it has no place to go.
So I will put it up here.





It Will Also Gaze Into Thee


by


Eldon Litchfield


Otis Walton stared into the Abyss. The Abyss stared back. Otis didn't think it was supposed to be literal. It was definitely uncomfortable.

Otis looked to his arsenal of magical paraphernalia. He was prepared for a journey of trans-formative insight, to glimpse the hidden workings of what lay behind The Veil, not to be confronted with a look reminiscent of a teenage cashier patiently waiting for an elderly customer to decide on which menu item they wanted.

The Abyss still stared. Unblinking. This wasn't covered in the grimoire.

"W-what...I...ah..." Otis tried to focus.

"Hey," said the Abyss. Unblinkingly. Now it was like being stared at by a tiny intent kitten.

Otis stepped back. "Uh, yeah." He delved deep into his mind for any reference to what was before him. "You're the demon Choronzon-"

"No idea who that is," stated the Abyss without menace. Unblinkingly.

Otis looked again at his collection of magical objects; wand, sword, cup, dagger, pentangle, rainbow staff... "Look, I am Osthanes-"

"Ooo, neat name," said the Abyss. Still not blinking.

"Thanks," said Otis, aka Osthanes. "Ah, are you a demon?"

The Abyss shrugged. "Don't think so."

"Nice to meet you," said Otis.

"Nice to meet you," said the Abyss.

Why are there glyphs on my potato?

One potato in my bag of potatoes was marked with cryptic glyphs of a perplexing nature. Why it alone was branded thus while the others were unmarked remains a mystery.



I attempted to take a closer picture of the potato, but it came out fuzzy.

JUST LIKE PICTURES OF BIGFOOT! Which proves this spud was of uncanny origin.



The symbols are almost runic, similar to Ogham or Futhark. Further investigation will not be forthcoming as the potato was eaten.

Nothing eerie happened.

Yet.


I was a Zombie for Halloween

Like only a million other people. My wife performed the zombifcation.
I made my eyes a little more zombie-ish with PaintShop Pro.




There is a cure ... right?

Tags:

A Story for You!

Below is my short story that won second place in a 2013 Halloween story contest. It came in right at the word count limit of 1000 words. The theme of the contest was "Things I've Learned From Watching Horror Movies." I felt a little rushed writing it, could have been better, but here it is for your amusment.





"And If There's One Thing . . . "

by D. H. Lewis


   Troy watched the ludicrous level of destruction.

   The 40-story gorgosaurus-ankylosaur hybrid roared to the heavens before smashing its tail into a factory. Debris flew in all directions. Clouds of dust covered the streets. Fighter jets zoomed overhead, launching their high-tech yet inaccurate missiles at the creature. The creature roared again before headbutting an office building.

   Troy watched the monster walk through his apartment building, making that the third home lost to kaiju. His wife was right; they were worse than mosquitoes.

   Their possessions; baby pictures, clothes, heirlooms, Kin no Unko collection, were buried under broken bricks and shattered glass.

   The creature became distracted by a giant five-headed flying turtle breathing blue fire on everything. The monsters moved downtown to do battle as the shrieking jets continued to fire ineffectual missiles. Troy noted that the missiles struck the landscape more than the monsters, and wondered if the pilot's mission was to destroy buildings before the monsters got to them.

   Troy searched the lump of bricks for any surviving possessions.

***

   Troy tried to convince Kiku that Tokyo wasn't for them.

   "No, I told you before we married that I didn't want to live anywhere else."

   "But the US is nice-"

   "And have to deal with all the zombie outbreaks? If there's one thing I've learned is that the States have zombies." Troy agreed that there were a lot of zombie outbreaks.

   "Well, how about South America?"

   "And worry about all the giant anacondas?" Troy remembered that there were thousands of giant anacondas there, all with voracious appetites and moving with the speed of cheetahs.

   "Europe? The company has branches there," queried Troy.

   Kiku sighed. "With all the vampires, rambling stitched corpse-men, Satanic cults, and mad scientists? What if little Joey is bitten by a werewolf?"

   "Africa?" Troy looked hopeful.

   "Africa ... is hot," said Kiku.

   Troy agreed that Africa was hot, and if there was one thing he had learned it was that there were a lot of angry sorcery-charged mummies running around with vendettas. Troy was hit with inspiration.

   "What if we stay in Japan, but moved to the country? Joey can experience the outdoors. I swear, your cities are magnets to giant prehistoric salamanders and radioactive butterflies. Guess it's the bright lights along with the collection of smells."

   Kiku glared at him.

   "I'm not saying that the cities stink, just that to a giant lizard they smell like a fun time." Kiku smacked Troy, but agreed that the country was a good idea.

***

   Troy bought a quaint house settled near a picturesque stream. The locals seemed friendly, Joey was fitting in at school, and no kaiju. The 2 hour commute to Tokyo was rough, but at least Troy knew the house would be there when he came home.

   He was bothered finding small spots of water about the house, and the time Joey walked into the living room wiggling his pointer finger while chanting nijustas ... nijustas, but Troy thought it was just a creepy phase six year olds went through. Troy's attitude changed after talking with his neighbor Mr. Morioka.

   "You are cursed," Morioka said between sips of sake. "When you watched the video tape at the house-"

   "We don't have a VHS player," said Troy. "And what tape?"

   "Or DVD," spat out Morioka.

   "Uh, there was no DVD disk at the house," stated Troy. "If there is one thing I've learned it's to not play unmarked tapes or DVDs."

   Mr. Morioka appeared annoyed.

   "Listen round-eye, whatever damn format you have at your house, then-"

   "But there wasn't anything laying about."

   "Which house do you live at?" asked Morioka.

   Troy stated his address.

   "Oh! A poor girl died there in the well ... "

   Troy interrupted. "There's no well on the property."

   "Oh, house A or B?"

   "B," said Troy.

   "Ah," said Morioka. "A child drowned at the stream there."

   Troy thought for a minute. "My wife is thinking of signing my son up for swimming lessons."

   The old man sighed. "If you take him to these classes, he will die in some weird accident."

   "Then I won't take him."

   "Then he will drown because he didn't know how to swim." The old man shook his head. "If there is one thing I've learned, it's that Japanese ghosts will just mess you over. Nothing one can do."

   Troy mentally digested the news. "So every house here-"

   "Haunted as a muther. Except for mine. It's prefab, so it's ghost free. I guess."

***

   Troy told his wife about the spirit, believing it to be nonsense.

   Kiku sighed. "Well, that explains why I kept seeing a tormented child's face in the dishwater. And if there's one thing I've learned it's that denying their existence makes spirits really want to kill you. What do we do?"

   Troy called his grandfather in America for advice.

   "If'n thar's one thing I've learnt about handlin' evil critters it's that you gotta take the fight to them," said Grandpa. "You gotta Bruce Campbell the suckers. Blow their damn heads off. If it grows back, do it again. They got chainsaws over thar in China?"

   "Japan, we're ... never mind. Yes, we have chainsaws."

   "Well, get a mess of those too. Prepare yourself. It's war."

   "Grandpa, Japan has strict gun laws."

   Grandpa chuckled. "If'n thar's one thing I've learnt about these situations, legal stuff like that somehow gets ignored."

***

   Facing shotgun blasts whenever oozing from the kitchen faucet, its stream set ablaze with gasoline, and frightening hand-made traps set at every faucet and drain, the ghost child grew worried. Worry became fear when, while stalking the boy at the swimming pool, the ghost saw the father topside wearing scuba gear and holding a chainsaw. He wore a t-shirt reading "Daddy's Got A Present For You. RWWWHAR!" The ghost didn't know any way a chainsaw could work underwater, but was afraid that the father did.

   And if there was one thing it had learned, it was that it was sometimes best to let things go.

I'll Do Music!

TCM showed The Bad Seed (1956) this evening. Wonderfully creepy movie. Worth watching. Do watch the original, not the terrible remake made back in 1985.

The ending of the movie is different than the book. In the book (SPOILER) the mother gives the evil little girl an overdose of sleeping pills before shooting herself. The mother dies, but little girl evil survives. In the film, the mother survives taking sleeping pills and the little girl is struck by lightning. Apparently God was so offended by her evil that he decided to take her out personally. Seriously, out of nowhere comes this bolt of lightning and disintegrates the kid.

POW! Gone.

I didn't know that before becoming a movie that the story was performed as a Broadway play. I was thinking that it should go back to Broadway as ...

THE BAD SEED

The Musical.

The songs would practically write themselves.

Oh mother, what would you give me for a basket of kisses?

Would you give me a basket full of hugs?

or

I hit Claude, I hit Claude,

I hit him with my shoes.

I killed him, I killed him,

I don't like to lose

If he had only given me the medal,

everything would have been alright.

But he wouldn't do it,

then he sealed his plight ...

or

Oh Claude, can you see me?

Oh Claude, can you hear me?

or

Give me back my shoes!

Do it right now!

Give me back my shoes!

Do it ... ah ... don't .. have a cow!

Hm, ouch, er, well then, if the songs write themselves, then they need to be fired.

I guess I should stick to writing horror and general weirdness.

bad_seed4

Give her the shoes back! She will freaking kill you!

I'm terrible at this ...

This poor site is dying of neglect.

I haven't posted in a long time, which is okay since no one reads this site. That makes it the safest place on the Internet. I should use this site for it's intended purpose; self-promotion.

I've had three (Yes! Three!) stories accepted for publication. I'm excited. And stunned. After receiving so many rejections it was amazing to have three accepted so close together.

One story titled "The Jigarkhwar" will appear in an Emby Press anthology titled Superhero Monster Hunter - The Good Fight. It is about a man attempting to slay a supernatural creature of Indian (as in India) legend that enjoys eating livers. The second story, about a man trying to find the murderer of his son through 1800's spiritualism, titled "Can You Hear Me, Dr. Galloway?" will be in another Emby Press anthology called Occult Detective Monster Hunter: A Grimoire Of Eldritch Inquests. One of the first short stories I wrote, titled "Tommy Bloody Bones," about twins encountering a creature of British lore, will be in an anthology called Fear's Accomplice, Vol. II, from NoodleDoodle Press.

You better damn well buy them.

Ha ha. No, but seriously ... buy them.

That's it. I have nothing witty to say. Go home.

Sorrow

Okay, face it, I'm probaby never going to get back to writing more about Half Hours In The Far East. I've accepted it, so should you.

Another TV revamp idea

Okay, I want to remake the Brady Bunch, but with a C.V. Andrews Flowers In The Attic angle.

Comments?

Tags:

Restyling 60s TV shows

Okay, I want to remake Gilligan's Island for TV, but with a William Golding's Lord of the Flies angle.

Gilligan as Ralph: The Gilligan/Ralph will still be a comic role.

The Professor as Piggy: Both are the intellectuals. Plus they're characters that are only referred to by a descriptive title rather than their real names.

Skipper as Jack: Well, duh.

Mary Ann as Simon: The innocent farm girl and the representation of peace and positivity are a natural match.

Ginger as Roger: That coldhearted Hollywood glamor girl easily transforms into the brutal and cruel killer who succumbs to her primitive urges.

The Howells . . . uh, er, the Twins! Yeah, sure. There ya go.

And the radio can represent the conch shell.

1960s escapist hilarity along with a dark examination of the conflicting impulses between civilization and savagery well mixed.

I need to start working on the script . . .

lordofGilliganIsland1

That's Entertainment

     I don't watch Entertainment Tonight, well, sometimes I might stop and listen if something catches my attention, but it is an example of how mushy the line has become between the news and what is gossipy stuff.

     Entertainment Tonight is suppose to be about celebrities and the upcoming movies, but why does George Zimmerman belong in those categories? Does he sing or dance? (Ok, a court joke could be made here) Has he performed on stage or starred in a movie or TV show?

     Nope.

     So why is he featured on ET?

     There has been other high profile crime stories featured on ET. And we might remember the national news networks going crazy over Britney Spears and her antics and for other celebs going nutso. Folks, the two topics don't belong in the same boat.

     It just boggles me.

     No profound essay or thoughtful insight, just wanted to get that off my chest. 

Tags:

Profile

what hell
barchiel1
Eldon Litchfield

Latest Month

April 2016
S M T W T F S
     12
3456789
10111213141516
17181920212223
24252627282930

Syndicate

RSS Atom
Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Tiffany Chow