Review by A.P. Fuchs
I'd like to tell you I'm reviewing a magazine. I'd also like to tell you I'm going to give my opinion of an anthology—but I can't. The Corpse Magazine is both and more. I had the privilege of being aware of this project a couple of months before its release and long before the world of horror knew of its existence. I gotta tell ya, I was thrilled a new horror magazine was coming out and one, seemingly, that was going to be great.
But it is difficult to say what I truly expected from the premiere issue of this horror maga—hmm, perhaps I should first define what I'm reviewing here. The easiest comparison, I suppose, is the old Isaac Asimov Science Fiction magazines, which were more like short books instead of the standard magazines you see at the bookstore or your favorite comic shop.
This first issue of The Corpse Magazine has a lot to offer. To go into all of it here would be doing the magazine a disservice. So, instead, I'm going to whet your appetite and show you what you're missing, in what is possibly one of the greatest magazines to come off the press in a long time.
Since this magazines packs a boatload in terms of content, stories and all the rest, I'll walk you quickly through the Table of Contents, giving you my short review of each item (articles that are not a section per se are absent from this review. I'm sticking to the goods, kids).
And so we begin:
Dear Diana: A letter column akin to “Dear Abby” except this column is for the “modern day psychopath.” All I have to say about this one is that I like the idea were those like myself can write in and share experiences, feelings, and all things murd—um, I wasn't supposed to tell you that, was I? Oops. The letters—none from myself—were entertaining. Made me appreciate there were others out there who are…disturbed or, perhaps, those who see the world as it should be and you so called sane folks got it all wrong.
Interview with Del Stone Jr.: Being a fan of interviews, it was exciting when I first heard Del was going to be interviewed in this issue. Del , an author who's a name in the small press world, shares in detail his career as a writer along with tidbits from his personal life. His novel, Dead Heat, is also discussed in this informative interview.
“Film is my Bitch,” an interview with filmmaker Andy Koontz: I'm partial to the independent film scene, one of my favorite movies of all time being American Movie, the story about a down-and-out horror filmmaker. Andy offers his thoughts on the indy film industry and what it takes to get a film produced and packaged without it looking like some kind of home movie. That and what makes a good horror flick. His film, Them Damn Zombies, is also discussed.
The magazine takes a turn here and offers ten short stories. Here's some of my thoughts on these seriously spooky tales.
Midnight Dentistry by Richard Dysinger: Two men head out one night to a rather unusual dentistry practice to drop off a bag of heroin. But what ensues once they're there, is not what was originally intended. Walk in, drop the stuff off and leave? Not a chance. Blood is the “stuff” to be dropped off, not drugs.
This story took me by surprise as I had no clue that the Dentist's office was something out of a Rob Zombie movie. Things went on there that—although unsettlingly different from a real dentist's office in the real world—were believable and plausable, There was a surreal quality to the way Dysinger takes you through each scene, forces you to live each moment through the characters and make you think twice about visiting your dentist for your annual cleaning. Oh, yeah. Say no to drugs.
Chip off the Old Block by H. Edward White: David, a…disturbed…student—mainly due to the recent death of his father—has plenty of free time, and enough of it to create something that would be forbidden in any school's woodworking class. What's more is he's not alone in the constructing of his project. His dad might be helping him. After school one day, David shares his creation with his friend, Roach. But the word “friend” doesn't describe what happens in David's basement when his creation is brought to life.
I have to admit this story took me totally by surprise. It was obvious some creepy stuff was going to go down (it was a horror story, after all), but the sudden turn it takes at the end placed me in the who, what, when, where and why of the story's closing events, making me feel the stomach-twisting pain of what occurs. All I have to say is H. Edward White has just made me rethink my friendships with those closest to me.
Sleep Come Does Never by A.P. Fuchs: No comment as this is my story and any opinion would be bias. However, I'll give you the plot synopsis. We follow the beginning of a zombie's return from the grave and the confusion that follows as he struggles to recall a life long past; his thoughts and feelings are primordial at best thus adding to his confusion. Add the army to the mix and you learn the value that a zombie, though dead, places on his existence as well as those of his kind. Two narratives immerse you in the tale: one from the zombie's point-of-view, the other from a poetically-charged narrator. Enjoy.
Nothing Green by Steve Short: Leonard wakes up next his lover, Debbie, only to find blood spots peppering the bed sheets. Confusion sets in when he sees the blood isn't hers, but his, coming from thin ring of red beads around his wrist. Leonard just doesn't know where it came from or, if anybody, from who.
Even though this is commonly said in reviews, and though I don't want to sound generic or cliché, I do have to say that Short's story (get it? Short story? Er, never mind) reminded me of classic Stephen King and the type of stories he wrote back in his glory days. Not only was I able to envision all Short relayed, but I also was able to picture Short sitting behind a typewriter, pounding out this tale, enjoying every minute of it. The author's love for his work truly shows through in this one.
Night Runner by Junior Joe Elsass: Jerry, a faithful jogger, likes to do his running at night, especially past the residence of a local stripper named Shatonya. She was often seen staring out her window each night as Jerry passed her place. A ritual almost. But the real endurance test begins when Shatonya invites him inside for a night he'll never forget.
We've all been there. We've all been to that part of town late at night where the less-fortunate live or where crimes or other shady happenings occur. We've all seen that girl standing on the corner, pretending to be waiting for a bus when she's really waiting to be offered a different kind of ride. We've all had that strange tingle run up and down our skin, a sense of “I don't belong here” becoming our only feeling when visiting these places. That feeling is the essence of Night Runner. Elsass did a fine job of telling a creepy story in a setting we can all relate to. When I read it, I was thankful I was at home, where I belong. Anywhere else would have been murder.
Listening to the Dark by Richard Jones: Deep beneath the ocean's surface, inside a small habitat intended for research, something goes terribly wrong and there seems to be no escape.
The idea of being alone in the middle of nothing(ness) is one of my greatest fears and, in this story, Jones forced me face my fear. Sure, it would be easy to say “…and the habitat was under water…” or some such, but instead Jones takes you to the ocean floor, pins you down and forces you to observe a water world filled with wonder, amazement, insight, each detail described in pristine clarity. When I read his story, I felt myself tensing up as—through his words and careful description—the sensation my office had detached itself from the earth and plummeted to the ocean floor, where I was utterly alone.
Let Jones drown you and bring you under. You'll be happy he did.
Seduction by Harrison Howe: After having a fight with his wife, a man takes a walk down a beach to cool off and meets a girl who, in his words, is ethereal in her appearance. The girl lures him into a mind game of sorts, seduces him and provides him comfort before revealing her true self.
Writing erotic stories is a fine art, especially if they are set in the wonderful world of horror. It's one thing to write about a woman chopping some guy's head off while straddling him, but it's quite another to not just let the characters be seduced by each other, but also for the reader to be seduced as well. Harrison Howe succeeded beyond my expectations of a story entitled, Seduction. The pacing in this story is perfect, each hint of things to come presented at the right moment, never beating the reader over the head with it, never making the reader wonder what happened to those little clues. Never leaving you wanting more.
Sickeningly enough, I was drawn into the story so deeply I wished I was on that beach with that girl…even after the moonlight catches her, revealing her completely.
Bogeymen by Ben Duiverman: The recount of a rumored occurrence about a painting that has a life of its own.
The general idea of this story has been done before. Stephen King's The Road Virus Heads North comes to mind. But Duiverman succeeds by taking this old concept and giving it new life, making you believe the story true, that there really is a painting that changes and also causes events in our world. His description, particularly the painting, is spot on. Pardon the pun. Being an artist myself, I wish that what I create can become real (most of it, anyway), so I fell into Duiverman's tale rather easily. Now, after having read it, I think I'll wish for something else next time I hit the drawing board.
Whatever Happened to Lum Slaughter? by Brendan Connell: Taking place in a world of cowboys and six-shooters, Flem, an outlaw, tells his partner about the last time he was with Lum Slaughter, a man who wasn't quite…human.
I'd be a fool to say the title didn't intrigue me. I'm a big fan of the more statement-esque or questioning-oriented type of titles. They seem to be far cleverer than a simple The Ghost or something. I'm also not a fan of Westerns so the fact that Connell kept me glued to the story is already a testament to his skill as a writer. Most scary stories take place in the present day or at least in the twentieth century. Whatever Happened to Lum Slaughter? takes place probably sometime in the mid to late eighteen hundreds.
Connell brings you in, takes you to the past, and makes you believe that you, too, are from that era, complete with full knowledge of the cultures, the towns, how things work, even when some of this stuff wasn't specifically mentioned in the story. To transport a reader to the past takes skill, a good plot, good pacing and, of course, great characters.
I'm gonna go sit around a bonfire now. Perhaps there will be someone there to tell me about Lum Slaughter again.
Reading My Mind by Nancy Jackson: A series of journal entries relaying the tale of a man who's infatuated with a painter and all manners of the flesh. Especially consuming it, utilizing it and worse.
Nancy Jackson writes horrotica (horror-erotica to the unlearned), and, like Seduction by Harrison Howe, she is able to not only make that human part of you look forward to the erotic scenes, but also to the non-erotic scenes of the story. What I found most charming was that even the non-sexual type scenes conveyed a sense of erotica as well. Her style is simple, clean and not too wordy. She gets to the point but also doesn't leave the reader feeling thin by not providing enough “meat” about what's going on. I give props to Ms. Jackson, a truly gifted story teller. Yet I can't help but wonder if she, writes longhand, using a very special kind of ink. These days, you never know.
Closing off this spectacular debut issue, The Corpse Magazine 's own Diana Bennett gives her thoughts on two very disturbing novels, Evilution by Shaun Jeffrey and Dead Heat by Del Stone Jr., two of what appear to be very dark and entertaining reads.
And to show its class, the last few pages of this issue shed light on the amazing artists whose work runs through the magazine. Sometimes artists are forgotten or not given enough credit. I'm glad Paul Grant and The Corpse Magazine remembered.
Read.
- End