I’ve been posting a new chapter of my book-in-progress ONE AND ONLY each Monday. It’s a genre I’m jokingly calling Splatter Romance. Though I coined the term, there are precedents. RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD 3. FRANKENHOOKER. HELLO MARY LOU: PROM NIGHT 2. DEAD ALIVE (aka BRAINDEAD). I think horror with a strong romantic element makes for a compelling narrative. We’ve all been in love and we’ve all been scared. It’s something we can all relate to.
However, I want to emphasize the irreverent splatter of the aforementioned films. While some good movies have come out of the so-called “elevated” horror movement, I do sometimes worry that the genre has lost its sense of fun.* Cartoonish gore and dark humor were, for a long time, staples of the genre. So much so that I spent most of my teens not watching comedy because, frankly, I was getting it from horror films.
Now, despite this, I don’t think this book has found its humor yet. Maybe it has and I’m missing it. Maybe it hasn’t and I’ll find ways to bring it out in its second draft.
Then again, a teen who’s bad at magic bringing his girlfriend back from the dead despite her wishes and only to yield disastrous consequences is situationally funny. At least I think so.
Anyway, here’s part of chapter 4. Due to a truly hellish couple of days (notice I didn’t blog yesterday), it’s not ALL of chapter 4. I will post it little by little throughout the week. After all of chapter 4 is posted, I will edit the first four chapters, collect it into an e-book, and release it on Amazon next month. I’m following the comics model with this book. An 8-12,000 word “issue” every month until the novel is done. Expect this to be a 10-issue miniseries. 2020 the squeak-quel is shaping up to be just as nasty as its predecessor, but I still maintain that this will be a year of me trying new things.
If you are not caught up on the story of ONE AND ONLY so far, you can see the archived, preceding chapters that here.
*There are obvious exceptions to the rule. Shoutout to movies like BLOOD QUANTUM, FINGERS, CRAWL, and THE POOL for keeping horror fun.
Dad hid my keys and started driving me to school again. He picked me up as soon as classes let out and drove me straight home. He set a curfew and checked in on me every hour throughout the night like he was a tech on the psych ward, I his unsafe patient. Worst of all, he kept Sheila from me. If I were unstable enough to try bringing my girlfriend back from the dead, I couldn’t be trusted alone with my little sister. I’ve never been so miserable.
After three days of it, I called Caroline. She’d always been a friend, and even though talking to her again had caused the fight which led to the end of Marybeth’s life, I thought if I could reach her that she might make me feel better. The call went straight to voicemail. I tried again.
Her phone must be off, I thought. Unless she’s ignoring me. I pushed the thought away. There was no reason she would be. She’d even told me after Marybeth’s fall that I could call her if I needed anything. Perhaps I should’ve called her sooner. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be in the predicament I was in. No botched necromancy ritual, and I don’t get grounded for life.
Not to mention the Curry family would still have their fucking Pomeranian. I’m lucky I didn’t get E. Coli or something from eating that damn thing. I got up and paced my room for the fourth time that night and probably the twentieth time that week.
“I need to get out of here,” I said to no one. But my ass wasn’t going anywhere. Of course, maybe my ass, my corporeal form, didn’t need to leave. I hadn’t pulled off astral projection before, and God only knew how badly I’d fucked up at necromancy, but maybe I could get this shit to work this time. Maybe I could get out, see Caroline. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to communicate with her or anyone, but at least I’d be out of my fucking room.
The first time I tried it, I lay in my bed, the very same bed I lay in now. I tried to relax without falling asleep. I focused on her. Where I thought she might be at that time. I imagined leaving my body, watching it from above as my true self drifted across the room. I imagined these things, but I could not make these imaginings manifest. They remained neutered and numb like unclear images behind glass or beneath water. Rippling and unsteady. Blurry.
I was much younger then. Young and dumb. Woefully inexperienced.
I approached my bed now, a failure again, but disallowing myself to think of these failings. This was a new experience, initiated by a new me. The me that failed to project years ago and the me that failed to bring Marybeth back from the dead were gone now. I could do this. I just had to concentrate and believe that I could.
I lay on my back and closed my eyes. I breathed, but only through my nose.
I didn’t think about why I wanted to see Caroline. Doing so would conjure my failures. A failure could not do what I aimed to do, and therefore, the failure had no place in this moment. Instead, I focused on Caroline. Where I thought she might be. I imagined leaving my body, watching it from above as my true self drifted across the room. I tried to relax without falling asleep.
When I began to sink, I thought I was losing consciousness and nearly broke my concentration to tell myself to wake up. Some primal instinct kept me from doing this. Something I was dialed into. It was the same thing I thought I’d been dialed into the other night by Marybeth’s grave. I didn’t pray that it was for real this time or allow myself to wonder. I simply told myself that it was.
I sank into the bed, and then I was ascending.