|
|
|
|
THE SEMINAR
A supernatural
novella published by Sarob Pross 2003
Illustrated by
Richard Lamb. (cover and interior art) Sean walked into the lean-to, bushing away the spiders’ webs that hung from the grape vine, and tried the back door. The handle twisted under his grip and the door opened smoothly. He stuck his head inside and called a hello, though he didn’t think for one moment the place was inhabited. No one could live in such decaying surroundings. He was surprised when his call was answered by a small sound from deep within the house. He wasn’t sure if it was a voice, or perhaps the sound made by a small animal. It was a strange sort of mewling sound – the kind of sound a frightened cat might make. He went inside and called again. As he walked through the downstairs room he was struck by the smell of the place. The only thing he could liken it to was the reptile house in the zoo he had visited once – a musky mixture of animal and vegetable smells, pungent and quite unpleasant. His call was answered once again by the strange, plaintive mewling sound, and he realised it was coming from upstairs. The stairs themselves had seen better days. Covered by a threadbare carpet runner, they were in about the same state of disrepair as the rest of the house. He took the first three stairs gingerly – testing them to see that they would hold his weight – then climbed the rest quickly. Once upstairs he called again, and once again his call was met by the same response. On the landing he was confronted by three doors. Behind one was a filthy and unusable bathroom, behind another an empty room into which the afternoon sun was pouring, enlivening the dust-motes as they spun in the air. He hesitated before opening the third door. He tapped on the wood lightly as his fingers closed around the handle. There was no response. He turned the handle and opened the door a fraction. An insufferable stench wafted out of the room. He was about to close it again when he heard a small groan from within. He pushed the door open wide. The room was in darkness. Through the windows he could see the thick wooden boards he had noticed from the garden. Underneath the window was a narrow bed, lying on it was a figure, an old, old woman with leathery skin and just a smattering of white hair. A rough looking blanket was pulled up to her chin, but the body beneath it made scarcely a bump. The old woman turned her head to look at him, and with what seemed to be a huge effort said, ‘Sean... help me...’ The voice was barely a croak, just a whisper, but he heard it and a shiver rippled through his body. How on earth did the old woman know his name? He approached the bed cautiously, looking about the room, paying special attention to the dark corners. Apart from the old woman the room was empty. When he reached the bed he crouched down, next to her. ‘Who are you?’ he said. ‘How do you know my name?’ There was movement under the blanket as the old woman tried to free her arms. ‘Here,’ Sean said. ‘Let me.’ He grabbed the top of the blanket and pulled it back, then recoiled in horror and shock, bile rising in his throat. He reeled away from the bed and what he had revealed beneath the blanket. Maggots. Thousands of them, writhing and crawling, feeding off the old woman’s decaying body. ‘Sean.’ Again the weak, croaking voice. Sean was being sick in the corner of the room. Excerpt ends
|
|
|
|
Carnival of Wicked Writers
website
Are
you a “wanna be” of horror fiction? Are you planning to attend a writing
seminar to refine your technique and increase your chances of getting
published? I strongly advise you to be extremely careful and to ponder
about it before sending your application: it could be a deceit and a trap.
If you don’t believe me I suggest you read the last novella by Maynard &
Sims and meditate. They relate the story of a group of late teens lured to
a remote place in Dorset, England, where a mysterious Senice Foundation is
organizing a seminar supposedly helpful to launch them in a writing
career. However, the expectations of the three girls and three young men
taking part in the project are soon to be disappointed: the venue,
although pleasant enough, is permeated with an eerie atmosphere, the
teachers and the organizers appear to be a bit weird. Before too long
strange events and odd incidents start taking place. The Foundation and
the seminar are just a cover for the evil doings of a centuries-old witch
who, in order to keep surviving, needs to feed upon young people’s blood
and flesh, finding physical and spiritual sustenance in their youth. The
initial misgivings quickly turn into a veritable nightmare and horror
bursts in the house as the witch goes ahead with her wicked plan. The
battle between good and evil will be strenuous and only two survivors will
be left unharmed. But one, unaware, is linked to the witch by ties, which
demand an answer… Once again Maynard & Sims prove to be extremely gifted
in gently gaining the reader’s attention with their smooth narrative skill
and then present him with an overwhelming flood of horror bound to disrupt
his sleep for more than one night. As horror writers they know their trade
so well that by now they deserve to be numbered among the masters of the
genre. So, if you are a potential author and want to learn how to produce
good horror fiction, always remaining stylish and tasteful, please ask
Maynard & Sims to admit you to one of their own writing seminars. Only,
make sure that it’s not taking place in Dorset… MARIO GUSLANDI on Terror tales website |
|
|
|
Copyright © 2008 L.H. Maynard & M.P.N. Sims |
