Sunday Shorts: Three from Autumn Cthulhu

Editor Mike Davis takes a line from H.P. Lovecraft’s story “Polaris” (“And in the autumn of the year, when the winds from the north curse and whine, and the red-leaved trees of the swamp mutter things to one another in the small hours of the morning under the horned waning moon…”) and uses it as the core principal of the anthology Autumn Cthulhu (Lovecraft ezine Press, 2016). Here are my thoughts on a few of the stories contained therein:

cover image by andreiuc88

 

“In the Spaces Where You Once Lived” by Damien Angelica Walters

Helena and Jack, a couple in their retirement years, live in a house that backs up onto a beautiful forest. Jack is falling victim to dementia/Alzheimer’s and Helen is struggling to accept the slow loss of her husband and to cope with the changes in his personality. Jack is convinced this house is not his home, that his home is elsewhere: perhaps somewhere in the woods. Walters’ story balances a very real fear (Jack’s health and eventual full loss of memory and cognitive function) with a slow-growing dread that something is very wrong in the woods. Of course, something is, or this wouldn’t be a Lovecraftian story. The relationship between Helena and Jack is drawn so indelibly by Walters, it is easy to see the love that underpins the strangeness and discomfort; scenes with their child and grandchild add to both the poignancy of Jack’s situation and the tension of the mystery of the woods. Helena does eventually learn what’s lurking just out of sight and why it is affecting Jack – but thankfully the author does not use it as an explanation for Jack’s declining mental acuity. That would have been a bit too precious for an otherwise realistic look at the horror of Alzheimer’s and similar diseases.

 

“The Black Azalea” by Wendy N. Wagner

The protagonist of Wagner’s story is Candace, a recent widow whose marriage to Graham was not a happy one especially in the later years. Before he passed, Graham had planted an azalea bush in the shadow of an elm tree that succumbed to Dutch elm disease, leaving room for sunlight to kill the azalea. The dead azalea blocks Candace’s view of her garden, so she decides on the last nice day of autumn to dig the bush out. Which is when she discovers strange rot at the bush’s core … strange rot that seems to be incredibly contagious to all the other plant life on Candace’s property. And eventually to more than just the plants. Wagner is an expert at moving a story from subtle unease to full out horror, and “The Black Azalea” is yet another example of that skill. The story also does not skimp on characterization in favor of horror; Candace’s life as a widow, and her life before becoming a widow, are just as central to the story as the rot is (and, in fact, I began to consider that this (supernatural? extraterrestrial?) rot is something of a metaphor for the course of Candace and Graham’s marriage.

 

“A Shadow Passing” by Daniel Mills

“A Shadow Passing” is one of the most fever dream-like short stories I have read in recent memory. A young boy’s mother leaves their house each day, dressed in widow’s black, to track down “them” – winged batlike shadows that speak to her, taunt her, are leading her to something. Something the boy seems tied to, with his strange fevers. Something the boy’s aunts and grandfather don’t seem to want him to be a part of, seeking medical assistance for him while his mother is away. Mills’ prose is perfect for the story’s overall sense of disconnection from logical reality, of a sick child’s inability to understand why the adults in his life seem to be at odds, of the way fevers especially steal time from us and cause us to hallucinate. I might have been reading too much into the story, but it also feels like an investigation of how adults who get caught up in cults will sacrifice everything, potentially even their own children, for the sake of their new beliefs – and how difficult it is for family members outside the cult to save the ones who have been sucked in.

 

I love short fiction in all its forms: from novellas to novelettes, short stories, flash fiction, and drabbles. Sunday Shorts is the feature where I get to blog about it.

Sunday Shorts: Two from Cthulhu's Daughters

In 2015, Silvia Moreno-Garcia and Paula R. Stiles co-edited Cthulhu’s Daughters: Stories of Lovecraftian Horror, in an effort to put paid to the rumor that “women don’t write Lovecraftian Horror / Weird Fiction.” No matter how many anthologies like this come out, there will be some people who still make that claim (heck, there are some who would claim women don’t write horror at all, or that women writing horror is a relatively recent development. Clueless, those people are.)

Here are my thoughts on a few of the 25 stories Moreno-Garcia and Stiles brought together.

 

Lockbox by E. Catherine Tobler

My opinion is that it takes a certain type of talent to write good serious “footnoted fiction.” (The type of story where as much is revealed in footnotes from the narrator as in the main text itself, that is. I thought about being cutesy and making this parenthetical aside a footnote, but I’m not sure I can get the formatting to work on my blog, and would it really be worth it?) I’ve read a fair number of such stories over the years, and in most of them I find the footnotes an affectation, often a distraction, rather than an enhancement. Not so here. Tobler’s story of two modern college students’ discovery of a long-buried but legendary Priory drips with atmosphere and foreboding from the very first sentence (“If nothing else, remember this: Edgar always knew.1”) and the footnotes enhance those feelings (“ 1 We may debate exactly when Edgar knew at length, but I am not convinced there was ever a single, discernable point one can reference; as the notions herein are circular,20 I feel so to was Edgar’s knowledge.” Yes, there’s a footnote to the footnote, which plays out very effectively later in the story). The narrator reveals the bloody history of the Priory and the history of his relationship with Edgar in just enough detail for the reader to understand how much isn’t be said … either because the narrator isn’t ready or is physically unable to share such details. It’s a fantastic counterpoint to Lovecraft, whose narrators often fell into what we call “purple prose” and shared too much detail; Tobler is as effective, or more so, in ramping up the creeping horror and dread with much less flowery language. And in the female protagonist, Tobler has created a character I find as horrifying as any of Lovecraft’s cosmic horrors.

 

Queen of a New America by Wendy N. Wagner

What is it about Nitocris, possible last queen of Egypt’s Sixth Dynasty, which draws so many writers of Lovecraftian horror to use her? Maybe it’s simply that Lovecraft himself mentions her in passing in two of his stories, making her a usable hook to expand on Lovecraft’s universe. Maybe it’s that so little is known about the historical Nitocris (including some debate over whether she actually existed at all), which makes her rife for use in all manner of genres from historical fiction to horror. Whatever it is, my experience is that usually in Lovecraftian horror, Nitocris is the Big Bad of the story/novel. Wendy N. Wagner turns that tradition upside down by showing a Nitocris who is far from the height of her power, her influence shrunk to being able to occasionally take control of a young girl’s body. Wagner explores the psychological effect of a drop from such lofty heights as well as revealing how it happened and draws comparisons between an Egypt where magic was commonplace and an America where logic and science have pushed magic to the background. Just when I thought I knew where the story was going, Wagner reveals a detail I hadn’t even noticed was missing and spins the story into a commentary about society we currently live in and where and how structures of power might be found in a world so different from the one Nitrocris knew. I enjoyed the claustrophobic feel of the story and the twist.

 

 

 

I love short fiction in all its forms: from novellas to novelettes, short stories, flash fiction, and drabbles. Sunday Shorts is the feature where I get to blog about it.