banner art above by Charles Carter

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

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Archive of Stories
and Authors

Sean Padlo's

Sean Padlo's

Sean Padlo's exact whereabouts
are never able to be fully
pinned down, but what we
do know about him is laced
with the echoes of legend.
He's already been known
to haunt certain areas of
the landscape, a trick said
to only be possible by being
able to manipulate it from
the future. His presence
among the rest of us here
at the freezine sends shivers
of fear deep in our solar plexus.

Konstantine Paradias & Edward

Konstantine Paradias's

Konstantine Paradias is a writer by
choice. At the moment, he's published
over 100 stories in English, Japanese,
Romanian, German, Dutch and
Portuguese and has worked in a free-
lancing capacity for videogames, screen-
plays and anthologies. People tell him
he's got a writing problem but he can,
like, quit whenever he wants, man.
His work has been nominated
for a Pushcart Prize.

Edward Morris's

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.

Tim Fezz's

Tim Fezz's

Tim Fezz hails out of the shattered
streets of Philly destroying the air-
waves and people's minds in the
underground with his band OLD
FEZZIWIG. He's been known to
dip his razor quill into his own
blood and pen a twisted tale
every now and again. We are
delighted to have him onboard
the FREEZINE and we hope
you are, too.

Daniel E. Lambert's

Daniel E. Lambert teaches English
at California State University, Los
Angeles and East Los Angeles College.
He also teaches online Literature
courses for Colorado Technical
University. His writing appears
in Silver Apples, Easy Reader,
Other Worlds, Wrapped in Plastic
and The Daily Breeze. His work
also appears in the anthologies
When Words Collide, Flash It,
Daily Flash 2012, Daily Frights
2012, An Island of Egrets and
Timeless Voices. His collection
of poetry and prose, Love and
Other Diversions, is available
through Amazon. He lives in
Southern California with his
wife, poet and author Anhthao Bui.


Phoenix has enjoyed writing since he
was a little kid. He finds much import-
ance and truth in creative expression.
Phoenix has written over sixty books,
and has published everything from
novels, to poetry and philosophy.
He hopes to inspire people with his
writing and to ask difficult questions
about our world and the universe.
Phoenix lives in Salt Lake City, Utah,
where he spends much of his time
reading books on science, philosophy,
and literature. He spends a good deal
of his free time writing and working
on new books. The Freezine of Fant-
asy and Science Fiction welcomes him
and his unique, intense vision.
Discover Phoenix's books at his author
page on Amazon. Also check out his blog.

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. He has been
a Romantic poet for as long as any-
one can remember, specializing in
the composition of spectral balladry,
utilizing to great effect a traditional
poetic form that taps into the haunted
undercurrents of folklore seldom found
in other forms of writing.
His poetry has appeared on the pages
of such publications as SPECTRAL
CTHULHU, and a poem of his,
"The Rime of the Eldritch Mariner,"
won the Rhysling Award for long-form
poetry. His collection of weird balladry
and Jack tales, THE LAY OF OLD HEX,
was published by Hippocampus Press in 2017.

David Agranoff's

David Agranoff's

David Agranoff is the author of the
following books: Ring of Fire (Eraserhead
Press, 2018), Flesh Trade (co-written
w/Edward Morris; published by Create-
Space, 2017), Punk Rock Ghost Story
(Deadite Press, 2016), Amazing Punk
Stories (Eraserhead Press, 2016),
Boot Boys of the Wolf Reich (Eraserhead
Press, 2014), Hunting the Moon Tribe
(Eraserhead Press, 2011), The Vegan
Revolution...with Zombies (Eraserhead
Press, 2010), and Screams from a Dying
World (Afterbirth Books, 2009).
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.

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.

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

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,
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.
He's also the best friend I ever had. He
was taken away from us last year on Jan
25 and I'll never be able to understand why.
Together we were a fantastic duo, the
legendary Grub Bros. Our secret base
exists on a cross-hatched nexus between
the Year of the Dragon and Dark City.
Somewhere along the tectonic fault
lines of our electromagnetic gathering,
shades of us peel off from the coruscating
pillars and are dropped back into the mix.
The phrase "rest in peace" just bugs me.
I'd rather think that Greg Grub's inimitable
spirit somehow continues evolving along
another manifestation of light itself, a
purple shift shall we say into another
phase of our expanding universe. I
ask myself, is it wishful thinking?
Will we really shed our human skin
like a discarded chrysalis and emerge
shimmering on another wavelength
altogether--or even manifest right
here among the rest without their
even beginning to suspect it? Well
people do believe in ghosts, but I
myself have long been suspicious
there can only be one single ghost
and that's all the stars in the universe
shrinking away into a withering heart
glittering and winking at us like
lost diamonds still echoing all their
sad and lonely songs fallen on deaf
eyes and ears blind to their colorful
emanations. My grub brother always
knew better than what the limits
of this old world taught him. We
explored past the outer peripheries
of our comfort zones to awaken
the terror in our minds and keep
us on our toes deep in the forest
in the middle of the night. The owls
led our way and the wilderness
transformed into a sanctuary.
The adventures we shared together
will always remain tattooed on
the pages of my skin. They tell a
story that we began together and
which continues being woven to
this very day. It's the same old
story about how we all were in
this together and how each and
every one of us is also going away
someday and though it will be the far-
thest we can manage to tell our own
tale we may rest assured it will be
continued like one of the old pulp
serials by all our friends which survive
us and manage to continue
the saga whispering in the wind.

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.)