Halloween Haunts: Halloween—What First Comes to Your Mind at the Thought? by John G. Rees

Summer’s bright days are still upon us: the joys and laughter stronger, louder, as if the earth’s bounties now ready for harvest rail us with delight. As the days begin to grow shorter, summer screams one last time in a desperate display of color so powerful, it seems as if life would spring forth from the natural palette of yellows, gold and orange.

But in our hearts we know the hues to be that of decay. Not only the decay of the natural cycle, but also of men’s minds; when they turn from the business of day to the fallen fruits of thoughts, unfinished, that now litter the open spaces of the mind. Some are ripe, some never will be, and some are maggot-filled memories or forgotten dreams.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and even the rot of nature has a certain bit of it, but the slow decay of the thoughts of men are not so. They do not dissolve or crumble into nothingness and return to the earth, but rather fester and grow within their fetid selves, become self-conscious and return to conscious thought and action.

Imagine if you will, Dr. Baron Von Frankenstein. He was an exceptional physician for his time, a time when medical breakthroughs were not uncommon. A time when what was impossible yesterday is now taken for granted. A time when dreams knew no bounds. He only wanted what any doctor dreams of, to help his fellow man. In time, he had his epiphany and like many other visionaries of his time were scoffed at by their fellow practitioners and scorned by the church.

Being banished from his cronies, Frankenstein withdrew into the darkness of insanity. Soon the end justified the means and morals no longer interfered. With nowhere to turn, Frankenstein threw himself into his work and it is here that the original dream began to decay, rot and become the scourge of men ever since.

This is how the horror really begins, when thoughts of men spoil and become manifest.

Okay date me – Halloween, first thoughts: Dracula, Frankenstein, The Wolfman – the celluloid versions. Really! I was weaned on this stuff as a kid. They actually scared you, right down to your bones scared. You weren’t shocked. Scared is way beyond that. Shock is like boo. Scared is like BOO! And you almost crap your pants. Scared is when the story gets under your skin… and you’re feeling the evil. You are no longer apart from the tale, but a part of it.

A scene in The Wolfman where the old Gypsy woman recites a prayer for Talbot…”through no fault of your own…” grabs you, as few scenes will, pulling you into the madness. Or when Frankenstein yells, “It’s alive! It’s alive!” And, of course, Dracula cuts to the chase, “Come here.”

This year, take a grim look back upon the books or films that scared you as a kid. Revisit those moments, not as a jaded adult scoffing at the camp, but as the kid you once were. See if you can get scared again, for the first time.

Speaking of which, I am wondering if any readers out there can help me find the name of a film that really got me when I was a kid. Memory does not serve me well.

A family moves to a farm (could be England), Mom, Dad, and a son. All the buildings are white. The place has the air of not having been lived in for a long time. There is a barn behind the house. The boy’s curiosity draws him back there. The barn is full of farm equipment and tack. There is a loft. The boy hears a chain being dragged up in the loft. He tentatively climbs the ladder, lifts the hatch and peeks in only to get a glimpse of the thing pulling itself and the chain out of view.

That’s about all I can remember, other than it scared the daylights out of me so much, I blank on the ending. The family freak? My imagination? If it rings a bell with anyone, please let me know.

Let your freak fly this year. Have a wild Halloween!

TODAY’S GIVEAWAY: John is offering one paperback each of his four novels: anoxic zone, Halocline, Black Tide and Out of Stone.

Giveaway Rules: Enter for the prize by posting in the comments section. Winners will be chosen at random and notified by e-mail. You may enter once for each giveaway, and all entrants may be considered for other giveaways if they don’t win on the day they post. If you would like to comment without being entered for the giveaway, include “Not a Giveaway Entry” at the end of your post. You may also enter by e-mailing memoutreach@horror.org and putting HH CONTEST ENTRY in the header.

JOHN G. REES has traveled around the world for work and pleasure, which has included time as a commercial diver, outlaw and painter. Raised in the dark environs of a funeral home in rural Indiana, he slid through San Francisco in the 70’s, moving to the Hawaiian Islands in the mid-80’s. After the death of his father and that of a close friend, john started writing: first for release and continuing at the urging of some friends. He has written four horror novels in his award–winning anoxic zone series: anoxic zone, Halocline, Black Tide and his most recent, this year, Out of Stone. He hopes you’ll enjoy reading them as much as he enjoyed writing them.

Read an excerpt from Out of Stone by John G. Rees:

The wind blowing down the beach captured the smells of the marketplace and entered Karuna’s nostrils. Spice mixed with rotting fish and meat, the scent of roses, the sweat of unwashed bodies, incense, flatulence, filth and halitosis. But it was the heat that nearly melted her into the sand. It was summer. They were as blistering as the winters were cold. A hand reached out carefully grasping her elbow to steady her until she regained her composure. The hand was Ahmed’s. Or the hand of the man that Ahmed now occupied.

“Drache,” Ahmed began, Drache being the male nomenclature for Dracine. “Would you like some water? The heat is most oppressive today.” To the cadre of attendants that were ever at Dracine’s side to comfort her every need, he yelled, “Water, more shade, fans!” The cadre went into double time at the command. A gold trimmed goblet was passed forward. Dracine did not have to reach for it as the water was poured into her mouth for her. The water bearer, Aquin, was a nervous, little, overweight man. His hand shook, spilling some water down the front of Dracine’s outfit.

Karuna looked down as the water droplets beaded and absorbed into the silk before evaporating as if the dribble had never happened and thought nothing of it. Ahmed, on the other hand, had been playing this game for more than a thousand years. He stepped forward, giving Aquin a backhand that tumbled the man head over heels backwards. Ahmed’s hand had hit the glass first before slamming it into Aquin’s face, which now bled freely through shards of glass. The display of Ahmed’s strength was formidable and apparently used quite often when you looked upon the faces of the service. Nevertheless he dropped to one knee next to Aquin. While deftly removing the broken glass from the man’s face, he bent close and whispered into Aquin’s ear.

“You must calm yourself, Aquin, when in Drache’s presence. Or would you like to be invited to dinner? Why do you think we feed you so well?” The laugh that followed from Ahmed’s lips was dark and sent ripples of fear into all that heard it. Aquin, on the other hand, had the eyes of a lamb about to be slaughtered. In a heartbeat, Ahmed was back at Dracine’s side.

To the linen merchant, Ahmed asked in a voice that was not to be contested, “Is this the best you have to offer?”

“Ye, yo, yes sir,” he replied shitting his pants, “does it please the magistrate?”

Ahmed looked to Dracine. Receiving the slightest nod of approval, Ahmed withdrew a pouch that hung from his side and withdrew several gold coins, dropping them on a bolt of cotton muslin.

“Th th th thank you,” he bowed eyeing the money and knowing better, from experience, as his scars attested to. “P p please forgive m m m me, k k kind s sir. You h h have p paid too m m m much.”

“Think nothing of it. Provide us with your best and it is the reward. You have pleased Drache and so you can sleep well knowing your family will still be with you in the morning.”

Karuna made a movement with her hand. It was not something she had never done before and made her wonder if it was Dracine’s personality was slipping through. She didn’t have to wonder long. Ahmed was at her side as if he always had one eye on her.

“Yes master, what is it you desire?” he leaned in close, his ear nearly touching her lips.

“Ahmed, I need to go to the bathroom. All that coffee this morning.”

His fingers snapped when he raised his hand above his head. Within moments a dark age version of a port-a-potty was being erected and moments after that, the two entered. Ahmed removed the lid of a porcelain commode. Karuna studied the design for a moment before deciding how to use it. When she undid the belt around her trousers, the pants fell to the ground, which of course was not sand but an oriental carpet. A small embarrassment before the urge to pee overrode it.
When she was through, Ahmed handed her a damp towel. “I am supposed to do it, but under the circumstances…”

“Thank you, Ahmed.” He turned around to face the wall of the enclosure.

Securing her wide belt in place she asked, “And what is your name? So I don’t blow our cover.”

“I have no name and am no one but your personal servant. You, however, almost ‘blew our cover,’ as you so aptly put it. Had I not stepped in and disgraced Aquin…”

“I was supposed to do that? It was just a few drops of water.”

“Precisely. To have his family killed for such lack of care would not have been out of line. You are a cruel woman. It is now your nature and you must step it up. The only time you can let your guard down is when we are alone, and even then the walls have eyes and ears.” Then in a loud voice, for their conversation had been barely a whisper, as Ahmed knew someone would be listening, “And if anyone is even close to this tent when we exit, they will be made an example of.” No one was. Before Ahmed opened the flap of the loo, “Be arrogant, abusive and have no patience. Even I bear the scars of your intolerance. We are done shopping for the day. Look at them hungrily and watch the peasants try and look skinny. If it brings a wicked laugh to your lips, let it be heard.”

From the doorway of the loo to an umbrellaed litter ran an oriental runner so that Dracine’s feet would not have to feel the heat of the sand. A wrinkle in the fabric caused her to stumble. Ahmed was there, naturally to catch her and keep her from making an unroyal-like tumble.

As soon as she was upright Karuna said in a voice that was loud but not yelling, deep but not a bellow, “Who is in charge here?” she demanded.

A nearly naked slave was pushed before Karuna. She pretended not to notice him. Rather she admired the pointed, razor edges of her fingernails. She straightened her hand until they formed the ridges of a serrated blade and without hesitation drove her stiffened fingers into the man’s throat. The skin and esophagus parted under pressure of the four scalpels. Hot blood sprayed her face before he fell to the sand and died. Karuna licked her lips and stepped into the carriage.

Ahmed was right behind in the litter, as befitted his position.

“Well done,” he mouthed the words, but uttered no sound.

Out of Stone can purchased directly from the author at http://www.blackwaterbooks.com/Out_of_Stone.html or online everywhere!

His latest book OUT OF STONE got a great writeup here:  http://www.versuscyberpunkhorrors.com/2013/08/of-blood-and-stone.html

All of j g rees books can be purchased at www.blackwaterbooks.com and a short excerpt from Out of Stone is here at: www.blackwaterbooks.com/Out_of_Stone.html

Also available on Amazon http://amazon.com/author/johngrees and many other places on-line.

You can tweet j g rees @blackwaterbooks anytime!