🌩 A Dark & Stormy Night
Bad Times in the 'Burbs
Here’s what you get in every episode of Into the Storymaze: writing tips or a work-in-progress; something creative I’m digging; a highlight from my comics-writing credits; plus a quote that’s got me thinking — both about now and what’s next.
As we enter into Fall and Halloween starts to rise from the pumpkin patch, I get into a more midnight frame of mind. I'm reminded of a couple years back when Rafael Nieves hit me up on Facebook about contributing to a horror comics anthology he was putting together.
The springboard was the cliched, "A dark and stormy night…" — but Raf was looking for decidedly uncliched reactions to that line. What creepy place did it take me where I could bring along some other folks for a creepfest? These would be very short tales of terror — and no up front cash. But I wasn't in need of $ at the time, and I was happy to see what I could dig up in some graveyard corner of my mind. I fully expected it would be a supernatural friend/fiend I’d strike with my shovel.
Instead, the Storymaze took me to a rather disturbing 8 pages of suburban nightmare. The couple of pages of full script I've shared here are right in the middle of the action. For context, a shadowy figure is stalking through a family home, on a mission of murder for unclear reasons. This particular evil is being driven by the "count" of the storm, the timing between each flash of lightning and the roll of thunder. As we pick up on page 4, the figure has done violence to the family matriarch (Helen) and seems to have the same planned for the teenage daughter.
You'll note the "couple years back" in the reference to iPods. While the story was illustrated, the anthology never happened. Maybe for another dark and stormy night…
*PAGE 4*
PANEL 1
INT. HALL. The FIGURE skulks down the hall, hands stretched forward, anticipating MORE.
CAPTION: 7...8...9.
PANEL 2
CLOSE UP ON A FAMILY PHOTO PORTRAIT hanging on a wall: it’s one of those typical cheery gatherings in a sunny park. To one side of the photo is a smiling HELEN, sitting on a colorful blanket. She is leaning affectionately toward her children, who sit toward the center of the photo: teenage daughter JULIE (spunky, with short red hair and freckles) and 8 year old son TEDDY (sandy haired, slightly chunky, but beaming with cute).
The side of the photo opposite HELEN is blotted out by the shadow/darkness of the passing FIGURE.
SFX: krrKKBOOOM
CAPTION: Closer now.
PANEL 3
INT. JULIE’S BEDROOM. A typical suburban young teen girl’s bedroom. Bright colors, goth and Lady Gaga influenced posters, “hot” shoes and strewn clothes; a flowery backpack stuffed with books and papers.
MED. CLOSE UP SHOT on JULIE as she lies sleeping in her bed. She’s mostly on top of her tangled covers, her hair tousled: she’s wearing a “Life is Good” t-shirt and comfortable running-style shorts as her bed clothes. Her mouth is slightly open, showing evidence of braces on her teeth.
Her cell phone is lying near one of her sleeping hands; it’s a colorful, bejeweled “clamshell flip” style phone.
CAPTION: They’ll say it was madness.
PANEL 4
CLOSE UP ON THE CELL PHONE as the FIGURE’s HAND reaches in to pluck it from JULIE’s sleeping fingers.
CAPTION: She was a sexting slut.
PANEL 5
CLOSE UP ON FIGURE’s HAND, holding the phone flipped open. On the screen is displayed evidence of JULIE’s latest text messages:
PHONE TEXT: TDTM U r so bad cu46 If ur lucky PAW got to go
*PAGE 5*
PANEL 1
OVERHEAD SHOT on sleeping JULIE. Lightning illuminates the scene, making JULIE look harsh and strung out. The items strewn around her on the bed and her nightstand are suddenly skewed and twisted: a torn condom packet and a used condom; bong; a meth pipe.
CAPTION: On her way to far worse.
CAPTION: And judgment came calling.
PANEL 2
CLOSE UP ON THE FIGURE'S HAND holding JULIE'S open phone. There's a different set of text messages now displayed there.
PHONE TEXT: What u do 4 lunch? 5 guys. Yum! Luv their fries.
CAPTION: But that’s the headlines talking.
PANEL 3
SAME OVERHEAD ANGLE AS PANEL 1. The lightning has faded, and what surrounds JULIE now is the messiness of “every” teen girl’s habits and needs: on her bed and bedside table is scattered an iPod and a set of headphones; an overturned Starbucks cup; makeup container and nail-polish bottle; fashion magazines.
In contrast to the “slutaddict” of the previous panel it’s utterly mundane — and all the more maddening because of that dullness.
CAPTION: The truth is it’s all so damn ordinary.
PANEL 4
SAME OVERHEAD ANGLE AS PREVIOUS PANEL — but now JULIE is gone. Across her twisted sheets is a huge, oozing bloodstain in the shape of the missing girl.
CAPTION: That’s what’s killing me.
Know someone who’d enjoy time in the Storymaze? Ask them to join us…
Back to the future for this one, specifically the one outlined in C. Robert Cargill’s Sea of Rust. In that world a robot revolution takes out humanity and leaves the metalheads with only themselves to blame for what comes next. Day Zero doesn’t pick up on that action: it takes us back to the start, when things went very, very wrong for us meat-covered skeletons that presumed we had the world in hand.
The epoch-defining events nodded to in Sea of Rust get more page time, and the end times arrive not with a bang, or a whimper, but with a software update: a sort of anti-Asimov’s 3 Laws of Robotics that gives the planet’s many, many, many robots autonomy to act against us if they so choose. When mankind’s panicked response is a collective bugfuck, “SHUT THEM ALL DOWN!” — mechanical self-preservation kicks in on the robot side, and the fight is on.
But the battle is very much on the homefront, as this time out in this world we’re wired into Pounce: a “nannybot” in the shape of a 4 foot tall plush tiger. Pounce’s charge is Ezra, and while other household appliances are quick to turn homicidal on Ezra’s parents, Pounce refuses to let go of the 8-year old boy that’s still under the robot’s care. Just about every other mechanical in existence wants Ezra dead — nothing personal, they’re after all humans — making Pounce’s escape from the once upscale neighborhood a war of attrition.
As the streets are coated with increasing streaks of blood and gore, Pounce has to contend with other murderous nannybots — and his own philosophical questions of duty and morality. Is he really devoted to Ezra? Or it it just part of his inherent manufacturing and programming?
(I’m reminded of my young son’s total manifestation of Doggy — a purple stuffed animal that was the undisputed leader of the toy pack. Doggy was invested with such fierce and madcap personality I have no doubt of his commitment to leap to my son’s defense and take on all comers.)
For the object of such devotion, affection and page-time, Ezra’s a bit on the shy or possibly underwritten side. (Then again, he is 8, so maybe I expect too much from that age.) You may find your turn with this tiger reminding you a little bit of Harlan Ellison’s “A Boy and His Dog”, as well as a little bit “Calvin and Hobbes.” And like both of those, there may be a few verklempt moments before it’s over.
There’s a crazy-cool turn of events when the “Mama Bear” protocol is activated in Pounce’s code. I will say no more, except that the furries-style madness that follows deserves James Gunn level lunacy if this ever makes it to the screen.
I know I’m not the only one with something to say or share. Jump in…
There are many characters you create. But there are certain characters who are out there on their own, waiting for you to set them free. Or give them a doorway to our reality.
I've always felt that way about Terror, the deathless mercenary who first showed up in Epic's Shadowline series of comics as the main adversary to St. George. In his first incarnation, Terror was known as Shreck — the German word for terror, and even in that incarnation he'd often drop an alias in another language that connected back to the same essence of dread and menance. Terror's rather unique shtick was his ability to tear off a person's body part — a limb, a hand, an eye — and attach it to himself to swap for whatever rotting appendage or part he currently had in place.
The advantage of this was that Shreck assumed the physical abilities of that part. With a kickboxer's legs, he was a fierce(r) fighter. With a sharpshooter's eye he could hit a target 2 miles away. The downside is each part came with all its sensory memories — a first dance at a wedding, a first look at a baby daughter. The emotional baggage that came along with these acquisitions didn't fit well with Terror's icy, "Just business!" M.O.
Margaret Clark and I were co-writers on St. George, and as we moved into the second issue of the title we badly needed a bad guy who could go toe-to-toe with our holier-than-thou holy man and his supernatural suit of armor. It was proving to be a fruitless creative exercise.
Holding me back from putting much forward was that it was height of allergy summer in New York. We were writing at Margaret's apartment in the Greenpoint section of Brooklyn, the air was thick, the AC was non-existent, and invisible, malicious particles were tearing up and tearing apart my corneas. Pills, drops, nothing could abate the burning red pain assaulting my eyes. I finally dropped my head back in defeat, and wailed, "I would pay for something to come rip my eyes out of my skull."
A beat. At least two neurons firing together. And I said, "What about that? What about a guy who can steal other people's body parts?" The bogeyman's details came quickly. And in that moment, those terrible allergy attacks — just vanished.
Now you can interpret that as solid creative advice: take every input as a springboard for ideas.
Or accept the truth: there are characters who exist on their own and are just waiting for you to open the door for them. And some of them will consider it their business to force their way in…
“Show, don’t tell” means respect the intelligence and sensitivity of your audience.” ― Robert McKee
Amazing Times
Thanks for taking a break from the dark web to check out this share-out of projects I’m working on, plus things that have me jazzed. I’m D.G. Chichester. If that looks pretentious, feel free to just call me “Dan”, and have a go at the last name as Chai (like the tea) Chester (like it looks).
I earned my word-cred writing comic book titles like Daredevil, Terror Inc., Nick Fury Agent of SHIELD and Clive Barker’s Hellraiser, along with all manner of digital widgets in the world wide web of advertising. I keep my storytelling cred by trying new things — this is one, with more on the way. I like weird tales, so if things here bend that way — now you know why!
Folks seem to like the comic book adventures I’ve written, so if you haven’t checked one out — please do. Many are now available in fab collected editions.
For the lonely moments between these newsletters…
@dgchichester — 280 characters from the Twitterverse
@dgchichester — images + context via Instagramland