Halloween Haunts 2013: That’s My Boy by Matthew Warner

Every day when he comes home from preschool, my four-year-old son, Owen, proceeds to creep us out with his artistic creations. Here are some of my favorites (with appropriate captions):

“Follow me,” the cat said as it led me through the house of mirrors. After a while, I looked down and realized my legs were attached directly to my head. Worse, I was bald.

Despite the warnings, I gazed directly into the creature’s eyes. Its forbidden name appeared on the wall and opened a tear in reality.

The day Hayao Miyazaki announced his imminent retirement, my neighbor, Totoro, materialized under the street lamp outside. He looked happy. Too happy.

“Never fear, my boy. If this Mental Problem Eliminator machine actually worked, the name of my disorder would appear on its screen, and an asphyxiating force field would materialize around me. . . . Oh, damn.”

The hand of God—although some said it was merely a cloud—moved to blot out our three suns on the day the bombs fell. Papa toiled in the front yard to make our escape pod ready.

The Cenobites brought with them both pleasure and pain: the Dark Man, with his body of black smoke; the Flying Skull, with a face like an unsolvable math equation; and, most terrifying of all, the Malevolent Male.

The big one stepped closer. “You’ve been naughty. Now, stare into my eyes.”  His toadies stood behind him as he worked—the pipsqueak who could only laugh and say, “Yeah, boss!  Yeah boss!” and the unibrowed one who never spoke. But soon, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything anymore.

“Stick ’em up.”

Under the light of the orange moon, the great worm king towered over young Frank Herbert, gesticulating with its purple tentacles to trace eldritch words upon the firmament.

As the waiter served their drinks and a ceiling fan circulated the night air, her date advanced on her. Finally—and far too late—she recognized him. Oh, he’d put on some weight, but that enormous, glowing heart in his chest was unmistakable. “E.T.,” she said as he pressed her into her chair, “What are you doing back on Earth?”  He said nothing as he gave her a daisy. When she looked down at herself, she discovered her body had been transformed into flowers.

MATTHEW WARNER’S publishing credits span a variety of formats, including novels, short stories, screenplays, and newspapers. His first horror novel in 2003, The Organ Donor, garnered a 5-star review from critic Feo Amante, who labeled the boo k a “straight-on modern classic of horror.” Publishers Weekly described his second novel, Eyes Everywhere, as “disturbing … compelling and insightful.” Dramatic works include films from Darkstone Entertainment based on his screenplays, plus a radio play and stage play premiered by theaters in central Virginia.

His opinion column, “Author’s Notes,” ran for five years at HorrorWorld.org and consisted of a blend of commentary, autobiography, and tutorials about the writing craft. Guide Dog Books collected the first three years of those columns into its debut non-fiction title, Horror Isn’t a 4-Letter Word: Essays on Writing & Appreciating the Genre. Warner’s latest horror novel, Blood Born, is an apocalyptic monster tale set in the Washington, DC, area where he grew up. His first urban fantasy novel, The Seventh Equinox, is set in a fictitious city inspired by his current home of Staunton, Virginia.

Warner lives with his wife, the artist Deena Warner, and sons, Owen and Thomas. In 2007, they opened a print and website design business, Deena Warner Design LLC, serving book publishers in New York City. He holds memberships in the Horror Writers Association and Dramatists Guild of America.

Matthew Warner’s new novel, The Seventh Equinox, comes out this fall. Preorder at seventhequinox.com.