400 Boys and 50 More
Page 86
The silver car whispered away.
The house was small, but it had all the comforts and conveniences. He unpacked his suitcases and put his clothes away; found a bottle of very old whisky and a box of very young cigars, but these were not what tempted him. He went out onto the terrace and gazed over the gardens. He was braced and waiting for the aimless soundtrack to make one more offensive squawk when, suddenly, it stopped. The sounds of island night crept in. It was bliss. The landscape was sparingly painted with light, evocative as a dream. He saw hints of buildings through the trees, the glow of ornamental ponds, white coral pillars, miles and miles of gardens. A distant spire that must have belonged to the composer, now retired for the night. In the absence of music he felt he could finally think, could finally imagine what might take its place, what this garden truly needed.
“The finest, fullest flowering,” the Patron had stated, and indeed it was true. The place was in full bloom. But every garden needed pruning, and a blossom deserved to be lopped before its prime had passed, before its petals fell.
He set his black bag on the table, thinking of tools he had always wanted but never bothered to acquire, never daring to think he might get to use them. But that could come later. For now, he had all he needed to get started.
He took out his prize set of shears, edges gleaming, of pristine surgical steel.
I’ll begin with that composer’s horrible, hideous, ragged-nailed fingers, he thought, looking off toward the dark house of sound, imagining notes that were very sweet indeed.
* * *
“The Finest, Fullest Flowering” copyright 2016 by Marc Laidlaw. First appeared online at Nightmare Magazine, June 2016.
AFTERWORD
One of the most famous techniques in film is the “dolly zoom” Alfred Hitchcock invented for use in Vertigo. At several key moments in the movie, while the camera pulls away from Jimmy Stewart, the lens zooms in. The angles skew, the mind boggles, the eponymous Vertigo ensues.
Reading back through all my short fiction, seeing it gathered in one place, moving through it quickly as I compose it in the frame of this book, I have frequently experienced a kind of “time zoom” vertigo. Apart from my writing, there’s not much else to cling to when I get dizzy. A story-obsessed lad of the Sixties, I find it suddenly fifty years later, and I’m still thinking of myself first and foremost as a writer, still wanting to be an always better one.
It’s what I’ve done. It’s what I do. I can’t see myself stopping.
My thanks to all those who have been with me along the way, sharing advice, encouragement, support. My editors, my teachers in school and out of it, my friends, my family.
And thanks especially to my readers.
BOOKS BY MARC LAIDLAW
AVAILABLE IN KINDLE EDITIONS
Dad’s Nuke
Neon Lotus
Kalifornia
The Orchid Eater
The 37th Mandala
400 Boys and 50 More
Table of Contents
INTRODUCTION: 400 + 50 = 51
THE SEVENTIES: FAIL EARLY
SPAWN OF THE RUINS
TISSUE
RATTLEGROUND
THE EIGHTIES: PEAK OMNI
SNEAKERS
400 BOYS
THE RANDOM MAN
SEA OF TRANQUILLITY
MUZAK FOR TORSO MURDERS
SHUCK BROTHER
FAUST FORWARD
NUTRIMANCER
THE LIQUOR CABINET OF DR. MALIKUDZU
GOOD ‘N’ EVIL, OR, THE ONCE AND FUTURE THING
LOAVES FROM HELL
LOVE COMES TO THE MIDDLEMAN
MIDDLEMAN’S RENT
THE FARMER ON THE WALL
BRUNO’S SHADOW
YOUR STYLE GUIDE—USE IT WISELY
MARS WILL HAVE BLOOD
UNEASY STREET
THE DEMONSTRATION
HIS POWDER’D WIG, HIS CROWN OF THORNES
THE NINETIES: FIRST-PERSON READER
WARTORN, LOVELORN
GASOLINE LAKE
WUNDERKINDERGARTEN
THE VULTURE MAIDEN
GREAT BREAKTHROUGHS IN DARKNESS
TERROR FAN
THE DIANE ARBUS SUICIDE PORTFOLIO
THE BLACK BUS
MAD WIND
TO LIE BETWEEN THE LOINS OF PERKY PAT
NETHER REACHES
TOTAL CONVERSION
THE NEW MILLENNIUM: HALF-LIFE & LESSONS HALF-LEARNED
SLEEPY JOE
CELL CALL
FLIGHT RISK
JANE
SWEETMEATS
EVALUATION OF THE HANNEMOUTH BEQUEST
AN EVENING’S HONEST PERIL
THE VICAR OF R’LYEH
LENG
BEYOND 2010: OVER THE INFLUENCE
POKKY MAN
THE BOY WHO FOLLOWED LOVECRAFT
FORGET YOU
BONFIRES
THE FRIGID ILK OF SARN KATHOOL
THE GHOST PENNY POST
THE FINEST, FULLEST FLOWERING
AFTERWORD
BOOKS BY MARC LAIDLAW