Tuesday, December 15, 2015


by Vincent Daemon

Chapter VII

Static Gravity

John and Julie had gotten off the bus at the hospital. Inside, Debra Hill’s family crowded around outside her room, and when a nurse mentioned that John was the person who’d found her and brought her in, they immediately flocked to him like some kind of frenzied religious herd to a Christ-figure, with thank you’s and questions he had no answers to. Italians, apparently. He did find out her name was Debra Hill, she had a husband and two teenage offspring. She was, indeed, a soccer mom. He also found that it was definitively a severe shock that had sent her into that state. 

  Julie was completely enthralled with all of this, it being that unique story she’d been so desperately looking for all this time. And John was in fact one of the more interesting people she’d come across in years.

 John and Julie were briefly allowed in the room (at the doctor’s behest) and became incredibly disturbed by the state Debra was in. Debra would go from almost catatonic stillness into short but chaotic bursts of self-defensive rageat something horrible, visible to her eyes and mind onlytrying to speak, yet managing only glossolalia.

 “Jonathan Agar, I presume?” asked the tall, salt-and-pepper haired doctor. “I’m Dr. Chorn, her uh, attending physician, for the moment,” as he offered his hand. “Do you have any idea, John, what may have caused her to be thrust into this horrid condition? This is beyond standard shock, you see. It is almost like she is in a constant state of self-preservation and self-defense against whatever initiated this sad event that she’s locked into.”

 John looked to Debra, then to Julie, then to Dr. Chorn, then to the floor. “I’m honestly not quite sure how to answer your question, Doc.”

 Dr. Chorn procured some papers from Debra’s bed-table. “You’re not sure what you saw either, are you?” the Doc asked, baffling both John and Julie as to how the Doc just seemed to know.

 But Dr. Chorn was far more than your average doctor. “I happened to see it as well. The meteor. These pictures she drewonly certain people have drawn things like this, historically. Since before the monkeys ate the mushrooms.” The doctor left his statement at that.

 “I don’t know what I saw, but I saw it twice, I think,” John mumbled to Dr. Chorn. “The first time at three a.m, after my fucking car broke down and I was walking to work, after I’d seen some kind of meteor or something, what you mentioned.” The words came quick and almost with a sigh of relief.

 “Don’t worry kid, I’m on your side, okay? I only get called in for certain cases, such as these. And who is your adorable colleague here?” Dr. Chorn asked, the “adorable” coming off more kindly than creepy.

 “Julie Adams, Journalist for the Brisadelphia Daily. I guess we are kinda colleagues, aren’t we?” she sheepishly grinned at John, who reddened slightly and half-smiled, his mind still disturbed by all of this.

 “Good, we have someone to actually document such a strange happening for a change,” grinned the doctor slyly. “Most people don’t like to accept that the unknown lurks around them at every turn, that in all reality we understand and actually know nothing. And I can see the two of you have the fever, the understanding to at least be curious about such things. You have...the connection.” He handed John the papers he’d grabbed off of Debra’s bed-stand and shoved them into his hands. “Any of these mean anything to you...either of you?”

 John had to sit down, a sudden headrush leaving him dizzy and lightheaded. The pictures, if they could even be called that, savagely scrawled on the papers in cheap smudgy crayon, resembled most intensely the shadow form he had seen both blocking out the starglow at three a.m. and flying upwards away from Debra almost twelve hours later. 

 There were four separate scrawlings, most as if they were done by a morbid, unmedicated, bad back-alley graffiti box dweller. Just shock-drawn portraits of demented swirls, spirals, tunnels and tubes of varying colors, pushed into each other so hard that all colors eventually became varying shades of a particular dim brownish-red; it was a color unplaceable beyond that. But one picture stood out as outright terrifying. Some kind of full-frontal recreation of this thing, of the entirety of its form, as it stood frozen on the page, just as it was, and always would be, inside her mind. 

 Simple words could never begin to describe the thing drawn on the paper. It looked like a combination of several different beasts, slightly comparable to those commonly found on this planet, but arranged horribly, all wrong. Two different sized eyes, one much larger than the other, finalized the madness that projected from the picture as John handed it back to the doctor. “I don’t wanna see these anymore,” John quietly mumbled to no one in particular, the drawings slipping from his hands to the floor. Julie came and gently placed a soft hand on his shoulder.

 “I assume by your shirt there, you work at Corman’s Petting Zoo? Is that the place claiming to have an actual polar bear to display at that silly winter carnival tomorrow morning? What were you guys thinking?” the doctor asked, wincing. 

 “It’s not me. Corman’s nuts. I just work there,” John replied in full agreement.

 “Been there,” chuckled the doctor sarcastically. “Look, you two mind if I tag along? I’m also curious about the duck, and those, what, six-foot penguins?

 “Uh-huh,” John replied, exhausted from the headache as the pictures faded and his senses began returning full and proper. “In fact, Doc, I think that’s a great idea.” 

 “Excellent. Let me take care of the last of my tests on Debra, make sure she will live the night, and then we can get out of here. I hate these places.” 

 Live the night?” Julie exclaimed. “Is it that fucking bad?”

 “It is, yes. Whatever she saw, in the simplest terms possible, fucked her up done good. If she lives, she won’t recover. Now, uh, let’s get out of here.” 

Click Here to read
Chapter VIII

No comments:

Post a Comment

Archive of Stories
and Authors

Sanford Meschkow's

Sanford Meschkow is a retired former
NYer who married a Philly suburban
Main Line girl. Sanford has been pub-
lished in a 1970s issue of AMAZING.
We welcome him here on the FREE-
ZINE of Fantasy and Science Fiction.

Brian "Flesheater" Stoneking's

Brian "Flesheater" Stoneking's

Brian "Flesheater" Stoneking currently
resides in the high desert of Phoenix,
Arizona where he enjoys campy horror
movies within the comfort of an Insane
Asylum. Search for his science fiction
stories at The Intestinal Fortitude in
the Flesheater's World section.
The Memory Sector is his first
appearance in the Freezine of
Fantasy and Science Fiction.

Owen R. Powell's

Little is known of the mysterious
Owen R. Powell (oftentimes referred
to as Orp online). That is because he
usually keeps moving. The story
Noetic Vacations marks his first
appearance in the Freezine.

Edward Morris's

Edward Morris is a 2011 nominee for
the Pushcart Prize in literature, has
also been nominated for the 2009
Rhysling Award and the 2005 British
Science Fiction Association Award.
His short stories have been published
over a hundred and twenty times in
four languages, most recently at
PerhihelionSF, the Red Penny Papers'
SUPERPOW! anthology, and The
Magazine of Bizarro Fiction. He lives
and works in Portland as a writer,
editor, spoken word MC and bouncer,
and is also a regular guest author at
the H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival.

Gene Stewart
(writing as Art Wester)

Gene Stewart's

Gene Stewart is a writer and artist.
He currently lives in the Midwest
American Wilderness where he is
researching tales of mystical realism,
writing ficta mystica, and exploring
the dark by casting a little light into
the shadows. Follow this link to his
website where there are many samples
of his writing and much else; come

Adam Bolivar's

Adam Bolivar's

Adam Bolivar's

Adam Bolivar is an expatriate Bostonian
who has lived in New Orleans and Berkeley,
and currently resides in Portland, Oregon
with his beloved wife and fluffy gray cat
Dahlia. Adam wears round, antique glasses
and has a fondness for hats. His greatest
inspirations include H.P. Lovecraft,
Jack tales and coffee.

David Agranoff's

David Agranoff's

David Agranoff is the author of the
short story collection Screams From
A Dying World, just published by
Afterbirth Books. David is a hardcore
vegan and tireless environmentalist.
His contributions to the punk horror
scene and the planet in general have
already established him as a bright
new writer and activist to watch out
for. The Freezine of Fantasy and
Science Fiction welcomes him and
his defiant vision open-heartedly.

David is a busy man, usually at work
on several different novels or projects
at once. He is sure to leave his mark on
a world teetering over the edge of
ecological imbalance. David's latest
books include the Wuxia -Pan
(martial arts fantasy) horror
novel called Hunting The Moon Tribe,
already out from Afterbirth Books.;
The Vegan Revolution...with Zombies,
[Deadite Press, 2010]; and
[Deadite Press, 2014]

Daniel José Older's

Daniel José Older's

Daniel José Older's spiritually driven,
urban storytelling takes root at the
crossroads of myth and history.
With sardonic, uplifting and often
hilarious prose, Older draws from
his work as an overnight 911 paramedic,
a teaching artist & an antiracist/antisexist
organizer to weave fast-moving, emotionally
engaging plots that speak whispers and
shouts about power and privilege in
modern day New York City. His work
has appeared in the Freezine of Fantasy
and Science Fiction, The ShadowCast
Audio Anthology, The Tide Pool, and
the collection Sunshine/Noir, and is
featured in Sheree Renee Thomas'
Black Pot Mojo Reading Series in Harlem.
When he's not writing, teaching or
riding around in an ambulance,
Daniel can be found performing with
his Brooklyn-based soul quartet
Ghost Star. His blog about the
ridiculous and disturbing world
of EMS can be found here.

Paul Stuart's

Paul Stuart is the author of numerous
biographical blurbs written in the third
person. His previously published fiction
appears in The Vault of Punk Horror and
His non-fiction financial pieces can be found
in a shiny, west-coast magazine that features
pictures of expensive homes, as well as images
of women in casual poses and their accessories.
Consider writing him at paul@twilightlane.com,
if you'd like some thing from his garage. In fall
2010, look for Grade 12 Trigonometry and
Pre-Calculus -With Zombies.

Rain Grave's

Rain Graves is an award winning
author of horror, science fiction and
poetry. She is best known for the 2002
Poetry Collection, The Gossamer Eye
(along with Mark McLaughlin and
David Niall Wilson). Her most
recent book, Barfodder: Poetry
Written in Dark Bars and Questionable
Cafes, has been hailed by Publisher's
Weekly as "Bukowski meets Lovecraft..."
in January of 2009. She lives and
writes in San Francisco, performing
spoken word at events around the
country. 877-DRK-POEM -

Icy Sedgwick's

Icy Sedgwick is part writer and part
trainee supervillain. She lives in the UK
but dreams of the Old West. Her current
works include a ghost story about a Cavalier
and a Western tale of retribution. Find her
ebooks, free weekly fiction and other
shenanigans at Icy’s Cabinet of Curiosities.

Blag Dahlia's
armed to the teeth

BLAG DAHLIA is a Rock Legend.
Singer, Songwriter, producer &
founder of the notorious DWARVES.
He has written two novels, ‘NINA’ and

G. Alden Davis's

G. Alden Davis wrote his first short story
in high school, and received a creative
writing scholarship for the effort. Soon
afterward he discovered that words were
not enough, and left for art school. He was
awarded the Emeritus Fellowship along
with his BFA from Memphis College of Art
in '94, and entered the videogame industry
as a team leader and 3D artist. He has over
25 published games to his credit. Mr. Davis
is a Burningman participant of 14 years,
and he swings a mean sword in the SCA.

Shae Sveniker's

Shae is a poet/artist/student and former
resident of the Salt Pit, UT, currently living
in Simi Valley, CA. His short stories are on
Blogger and his poetry is hosted on Livejournal.

Nigel Strange's

Nigel Strange lives with his wife and
daughter, cats, and tiny dog-like thing
in their home in California where he
occasionally experiments recreationally
with lucidity. PLASTIC CHILDREN
is his first publication.

J.R. Torina's

J.R. Torina was DJ for Sonic Slaughter-
house ('90-'97), runs Sutekh Productions
(an industrial-ambient music label) and
Slaughterhouse Records (metal record
label), and was proprietor of The Abyss
(a metal-gothic-industrial c.d. shop in
SLC, now closed). He is the dark force
behind Scapegoat (an ambient-tribal-
noise-experimental unit). THE HOUSE
IN THE PORT is his first publication.

K.B. Updike, Jr's

K.B. Updike, Jr. is a young virgin
Virginia writer. KB's life work,
published 100% for free:
(We are not certain if K.B. Updike, Jr.
has lost his Virginian virginity yet.)