My ‘Blood Magic’ in WordCrafter Press’ Midnight Roost Anthology

I asked fellow Midnight Roost anthology contributors to share some things about themselves prior to publication and those generous enough to do so will be appearing here for the next week or so.

Each entry gives a taste of their contribution, a little about them, how to contact them, how their story came about, and definitely a link to Midnight Roost (which you should purchase because it would make each and every one of us happy.
you do want to make us happy, don’t you?
i mean, considering what we wrote, you want us to know you’re a good person, right?).

Let’s start with a Hallowe’en-themed introduction to the anthology as a whole:

Blood Magic is the second of three of my pieces in Midnight Roost. Here’s the opening:

Julia danced among oaks and ash, two short steps towards Eric, two long steps away, always drawing him into the hollow, always a hand or two beyond his reach. Once one of her long, blonde braids brushed the back of his hand and he almost had her, but he wasn’t quick enough, never quick enough.
“You’re such an old woman, Eric.”
Eric stopped as Julia entered a copse of ancient, dark boled trees. His hands staid his knife and axe—good forester’s tools his father gave him—swinging at his belt. “We are too far from the village.”
“Says your grandmother, who brings apples to any who will listen.”
“The Old Ones remember— ”
“The old ones are old.” She disappeared among the trees.

How the story came about:
Blood Magic is one of those stories which went through several versions before seeing the light of day, and all based on going apple-picking with friends back in 1994(!). A little girl bit into an apple and burst into tears. She threw the apple down and acted as if it bit her back. There was no obvious reason for it, and that image of a cursed or biting apple stuck.
Previous titles were Tag, The Apple, The Witch, and finally Blood Magic. The core (forgive the pun) remained consistent, its expression went through more evolutions than the titles indicate. There was always the concept of the witch, the apple, Eric, and Julia. The story originally ended with Julia biting the apple and hearing laughter. She puts the apple down on a table and it turns, revealing the witch’s face laughing at her.
That ending was okay but I always knew there was more to the story. It literally went through twenty-eight versions before what you read now in Midnight Zoo.
Even then, the story in the anthology is actually the opening of Tag, a novel due out in Spring 2024. Same core (oy!) concepts but now written into a Medieval murder mystery which takes place in Eastern Europe after the Crusades.
Continue reading “My ‘Blood Magic’ in WordCrafter Press’ Midnight Roost Anthology”

My ‘The Beach’ in WordCrafter Press’ Midnight Roost Anthology

I asked fellow Midnight Roost anthology contributors to share some things about themselves prior to publication and those generous enough to do so will be appearing here for the next week or so.

Each entry gives a taste of their contribution, a little about them, how to contact them, how their story came about, and definitely a link to Midnight Roost (which you should purchase because it would make each and every one of us happy.
you do want to make us happy, don’t you?
i mean, considering what we wrote, you want us to know you’re a good person, right?).

Let’s start with a Hallowe’en-themed introduction to the anthology as a whole:

The Beach is one of three of my pieces in Midnight Roost. Here’s the opening:

He found the gate. His hands remembered the twists and turns of the road and he guided his Maybach to a beach he hadn’t seen in forty years.
Moss and ivy grew over the gate’s red brick pillars, once clearly visible, striking in their elegantly manicured columns and granite-ball tops obscured by leaves and branches; its rusted black angels, their wings spread wide in flight—or warning. He never knew which—swung back from the road and into the overgrowth, the once firm hinges and hasps now slipping and twisted.
Birch and elm canopied the long twisting driveway, scrub pine marked its edges. Potholes blistered the once smooth pavement and roots broke through, scarring the surface.
He guided his Maybach at a crawl to its final destination, an animal wary in unfamiliar surroundings.

How the story came about:
The Beach is based on actual beach I discovered my first time through college. Pretty much everything in the story is based on what really happened…except killing. The killing is specific to the story. Aside from that, riding my bike, discovering the cove, seeing the mansions, even returning after successes in business (although just to see if the beach still existed, not to develop the property) are all based on actual events from my life.
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Christopher Barilli’s ‘Shaken’ in WordCrafter Press’ Midnight Roost Anthology

I asked fellow Midnight Roost anthology contributors to share some things about themselves prior to publication and those generous enough to do so will be appearing here for the next week or so.

Each entry gives a taste of their contribution, a little about them, how to contact them, how their story came about, and definitely a link to Midnight Roost (which you should purchase because it would make each and every one of us happy.
you do want to make us happy, don’t you?
i mean, considering what we wrote, you want us to know you’re a good person, right?).

Let’s start with a Hallowe’en-themed introduction to the anthology as a whole:

Christopher’s contribution is Shaken. Here’s the opening:

The crying started at one-thirty a.m., but Misty was already wide-awake. She’d been on the losing end of a staring contest with the red LED on her baby monitor, convinced she wouldn’t hear little Sammy if he cried. Yet when the cries came, she not only heard, but knew they weren’t from Sammy.

How the story came about:
This story was born from a news story I heard on the radio many years ago, a story about a couple who was picking up another baby’s crying in another state on their own baby monitor. That story spawned an idea for a whole novel, actually, about people who follow random radio signals on their monitor and are swept up in a terrifying murder plot, involving their own child. That novel may still come out someday, but I was writing a different full-length work at the time, so I went with the short story version. Thus, shaken was born.
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Once Best of Friends

Keeping up my credos in cultural anthro/folklore/myth society, I note I anthropomorphize The Wild.

Well Excu-use me!

(extra points for any readers who know that reference)

Folklore and Myth anthropomorphize The Wild to teach lessons, offer morality plays, share spiritual meaning, et cetera.

It’s much safer to do so using The Old Ones than to blatantly attribute bad behaviors – idiocy, greed, malice, avarice, and so on – to the individuals still living and still in power.

Doing so often results in a shortened tenure upon the planet.

Interestingly, the only individual who could safely (okay, somewhat safely) get away with doing so is what many cultures recognize as the Sacred Clown.

The Sacred Clown’s primary role was to speak truth to power and they often did so with humor. Many of today’s comedians share that they told jokes as children because they rapidly learned the bullies couldn’t hit you if they were laughing hard.

Sacred Clowns exist throughout history. George Carlin was one. Mort Sahl was another. Down through time they were Jesters, circus performers, thespians, and interestingly they tended to be people either intentionally or by self-design on the outskirts of society.

Better to observe from such positions, don’t you think?

So here we have two Rabbits, perhaps once best of friends, now not talking to each other.

Who know who slighted who, either real or imaginary.

And as that’s an anthropomorphization, I suspect imaginary.

How about you? What do you think?

 

Robert Kostanczuk’s ‘A Visitant Comes to the Window’ in WordCrafter Press’ Midnight Roost Anthology

I asked fellow Midnight Roost anthology contributors to share some things about themselves prior to publication and those generous enough to do so will be appearing here for the next week or so.

Each entry gives a taste of their contribution, a little about them, how to contact them, how their story came about, and definitely a link to Midnight Roost (which you should purchase because it would make each and every one of us happy.
you do want to make us happy, don’t you?
i mean, considering what we wrote, you want us to know you’re a good person, right?).

Let’s start with a Hallowe’en-themed introduction to the anthology as a whole:

Robert’s contribution is A Visitant Comes to the Window. Here’s the opening:

At first a bothersome thing, the bug noise became a lulling rhythm of nature for Pike Ansblath.
He accepted the ruffled bleating as part of summer.
One night, while lying on the couch, Pike tried to pin down what the noise sounded like.
It was, he determined, basically a whistle… with a little ripple effect.
A neighbor who overheard it one day likened the sound to a muted chirp; that made sense, too.
The sounds of summer insects always confused Pike. They blurred into one hodgepodge… crickets, flies, bees, etc.
Who cared?
He got mad at himself for thinking about bugs so much. There were other fish to fry — his love life, for instance, was motoring along quite swimmingly.

How the story came about:
The night sounds of bugs during the summer always intrigued me. I wanted to turn that into something darker, and combine it with a protagonist who’s a young lothario. I thought the combination would be quirky in an interesting way. Then, I introduced an insect like no other.
Continue reading “Robert Kostanczuk’s ‘A Visitant Comes to the Window’ in WordCrafter Press’ Midnight Roost Anthology”