by Jasper Bark
Oh no.
This is a proper, old-fashioned, British courtroom. Poorly lit and panelled in dusty, scabrous oak that is weary from absorbing the pitiful cries of those who have been accused within these walls and, more importantly, sentenced to ensure that they will never commit such sordid atrocities again.
The immense and ancient judge has sat in his sagging leather chair for such a long time that he has become one with it, his cynical world-weary flesh having fused with the dead animal skin with which it has stayed in contact for so long. He knows he can never leave this place. He knows he will die here, and the inevitability of his slow decay has only made his attitude to those brought before him all the more merciless.
One is to be brought before him today.
An author.
An author of horror stories.
To look at him, though, you might not think him to be the kind of person to have created the horrific works of so-called art of which he stands accused.
No, not stands. A swift blow to the left loin by one of the brutish, near Neanderthal guards who have dragged him into the courtroom soon puts paid to that.
Now he kneels accused. Gasps accused.
Crawls accused.
The judge leans forward as far as his attachments of leathery skin will allow. When he speaks his voice resembles a worn-out foghorn on a windy night.
“Do you feel ashamed?”
The author takes a moment to gather his breath and wipe the trickle of blood that has seeped from the corner of his mouth. He is about to say something when another sharp blow, this time to the back of his neck, prevents it.
“And so you should,” the judge continues, picking up a dirty, bloodstained manuscript and peering with rheumy, jaundiced sclerae at the first page.
“Stuck. On. You.” Each word sounds like a statement. Of fact. Of guilt.
Of deserving damnation.
“You wrote this?”
The author again draws breath to speak, then thinks better of it and nods instead.
“Vile.” The judge flicks through the pages until he comes to another story. “Unspeakably vile. Feeding a decent, law-abiding citizen their own brains? Bricking someone up to be bathed in the filth of others? A mad girl who dresses up as a nurse and tries to kill her own child?” His eyes blaze. “Mocking the very devil himself? If I were a younger man I would insist your face be rubbed in the contents of the bowels you have thought it so amusing to construct a map of the London Underground out of.”
The author says nothing. He knows he is guilty of what this court perceives as his ‘crimes’. All that remains is for him to be sentenced.
Rough hands drag him to the place that has been reserved for him, the place that has always been there, waiting for just the right kind of person to occupy it.
The author is forced into the chair. The teak of its frame, awakening quickly to the presence of its longed-for occupant, grows around him and into him, imprisoning him forever, making him as much a part of these proceedings as the others here. Powerless to resist, he can do nothing as his fingers reach of their own accord for the typewriter keys, and become melded to them.
“We’ve always needed a stenographer,” the judge rasps as wires burst from the typewriter casing and drill into the author’s skull, fixing his gaze on the yellowing sheet of paper that has appeared in the typewriter’s carriage. “You should do nicely.”
So please remember, ladies and gentlemen, should you ever feel the urge to read these tales a second time. Jasper Bark suffered to bring these stories to you. In fact he’s probably still suffering now if there’s any justice. And I don’t doubt some of those court cases he records may find their way into future collections, if their publishers don’t know what’s good for them. I just ask you to spare the poor man a thought as he types away, eyes and fingers welded in place for his own good. Forever.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I hate acknowledgements in books. I usually skip over them if they’re at the front or ignore them if they’re at the back. This is why I hardly notice, until years later, when other writers are kind enough to acknowledge me.
Acknowledgements always sound like a protracted Oscar acceptance to me. I can’t help but picture the author in a big glittery tiara, with mascara streaked tears pooling in his beard, as he sobs his way through a thousand heartfelt thanks to everyone from his nursery teacher to his agent.
Long acknowledgements have the feel of a lap of honour. As an author myself, I know what a sweet victory it is every time your name appears on a new book. And you have to understand how we authors love to bask in the glow of something that’s only been accomplished by over a million people before us. Even still, all that back patting just makes me a bit nauseous.
However, I do owe a lot of people for their help and contributions to this collection, and there’s only so far blackmail and extortion will go before you have to start saying thank you.
My editor and friend Joe Mynhardt and his wife Annemie were great to me and my family when we visited them in South Africa and took us out for a lovely meal. What’s more, Joe has been a fantastic editor to work with and has provided huge support for my work, and one day I will burn those negatives, I promise.
Rob Moran, is a man whose moroseness and constant misanthropy never fail to bring joy and laughter into my life. As jaw-droppingly talented artists go, I don’t think I could have gotten stuck with a better one.
I’ve loved Pat Cadigan’s writing for years. It was a huge honour to read alongside her and to draw her into the Bloodfudge prank. She provided an intro that was far superior to anything I could have hoped for.
I met John Llewellyn Probert in the not so funny pages when our stories appeared alongside one another. John has since become a highly valued collaborator and co-conspirator. He and his wife Kate, who writes as the talented Thana Niveau, have also become great friends. Didn’t he write a glorious afterword?
Lisa Jenkins, a gifted writer and editor, went above and beyond in helping me get the text of ‘Stuck On You’ into a proper shape. You are a star.
Emma Audsley is a talented writer and dedicated editor who runs the Horrifically Horrifying Horror Blog and Screaming Skull Press. Her eagle eye kept the collection free of so many typos.
The stories in this collection might not have been written had it not been for commissions from a whole host of wonderful editors including Jonathan Oliver, Ross Warren, Suzy Goodall, Michael Wilson, Adele Wearing, Theresa Derwin, Jo Thomas, and Margrét Helgadóttir.
I also have to thank Jim Mcleod, Ann Giardina Magee, Tim Cundle, Jim Dodge, Dianne Hunt, Joe Gordon, Kevin Lintner, Matthew Tait, Matthew Fryer, Cory Cline, Colum McKnight, Andrew Angel, Vix Kirkpatrick, Matthew Scott Baker, Blaze McRobb, Joan De La Haye, Jim Goforth, Armand Rosamilia, Promote Horror, Simon Marshall-Jones, Adele Cosgrove-Bray, and the Indie Horror Blog for supporting me and my work in the blogosphere.
I should also thank my very eloquent friend and fellow author Joseph D’Lacey because he thanked me in one of his books several years ago and I only just read it last week. Told you I never read these pages.
Connect with Jasper Bark
Website:
www.jasperbark.com
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/jaspre.bark
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/jasperbark
@jasperbark
Connect with Crystal Lake Publishing
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www.crystallakepub.com
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We hope you enjoyed this title. If so, we would be grateful if you could leave a review on your blog or one of the many websites open to book reviews. Reviews are essential for a successful book. And remember to keep an eye out for more of our books. We have collections by Daniel I. Russell, Kevin Lucia, William Meikle and Gary McMahon, as well
as novellas and anthologies.
THANK YOU FOR PURCHASING THIS BOOK
All Rights Reserved
ISBN: 978-0-9922414-0-7
Cover Design:
Rob Moran—www.robmorancomicart.blogspot.co.uk
eBook formatting:
Robert Swartwood—www.robertswartwood.com
Stuck on You previously appeared as a stand alone Ebook published
by Crystal Lake Publishing © Jasper Bark 2014
Taking the Piss previously appeared in the Ebook ‘What Is Horror’ published
by This Is Horror © Jasper Bark 2012
The Castigation Crunch and Haunting the Past previously appeared in the audiobook ‘Dead Air’ published by Create Digital Publishing © Jasper Bark 2011
A version of Ill Met by Moonlight previously appeared in the audiobook ‘Dead Air’ published
by Create Digital Publishing © Jasper Bark 2011
How the Dark Bleeds previously appeared in the anthology ‘For the Night is Dark’ published
by Crystal Lake Publishing © Jasper Bark 2013
Mouthful previously appeared on This Is Horror.com © Jasper Bark 2011
End of the Line previously appeared in the anthology End of the Line published
by Solaris © Jasper Bark 2010
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the authors’ imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.