Black Static Horror Magazine #3

by TTA Press Authors

  Way back in 1972, writer-director and actor Vin Crease killed his executive producer, and the new horror movie they had just made together and were about to premiere, Slaughterhouse Of The Rising Sun was lost, mysteriously. Over thirty years later, after exhaustive quests, the original print was discovered in a Pakistani opium den. Now fully restored and unleashed on DVD, this cult film looks so good it could actually have been made in 2005 ... Indeed, rather more imaginative with its fan-orientated advertising campaign than any remake, prequel, or various mimickers, of that well-known classic about serial killers with chainsaws, this low-budget indie milks a similar vein to the teaser of John Carpenter's story Cigarette Burns, for the Masters Of Horror television series, and the built-in marketability of Japanese franchise Ring. Dare you watch a movie that claims to have prompted a real-life murder? Wittily, it anticipates Tarantino and Rodriguez's fervent hopes for a grindhouse revival, too. Jennifer (Cheryl Dent) is released from a mental hospital and soon off her meds. A desert rumble with rednecks, and nutty hippies—led by seemingly bipolar cripple Damon (Vin Crease, alias D.C. Mann) leads to our ditsy blonde starlet having peyote trip visions, followed by a campfire horror story, after which she keeps finding loonies and bloody corpses at every turn. Bleached out cinematography of nightmarish daydreams present a household massacre, a ghostly little girl, and one scary-eyed scar-faced stranger. At the hippies’ rundown squat, Jennifer seems perpetually on the verge of hysteria, but are her violent delusions actually repressed memories, or premonitions of Manson-family-style doom? There's fun with character names (Violence Onelove, Sabbath Jones, Guilty Karma, Cassandra Locust), a séance for one victim simply results in greater tragedy, but who's the real maniac? It's Visions Of Evil meets Last House On The Left. It's a flower children's Psycho road-movie, complete with battered Volkswagen van. Some DVD extras support the ‘lost masterpiece’ angle, if you wish to indulge this filmmaker's gimmick-laden fantasy that far.

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  Lucy Liu effortlessly flits between cult indie productions and Hollywood blockbusters, from action thrillers to weirdo comedies, opting for top billing or cameo roles. Rise: Blood Hunter sees this immensely talented actress cast as reporter Sadie Blake, vengeful victim of a vampire attack which turns her into an immortal assassin. Sebastian Gutierrez (maker of watchable TV horror flick, She Creature, with Carla Gugino as an Irish mermaid!) directs with studious assurance, making such a compelling drama out of this morbidly existential tale about sex and murder that Rise is easily the best vampire movie for several years. Breaking away from trendy CGI candy (Underworld, Blade, etc), and forsaking the dumb wallow in relentless sadism or sleaze that regularly defines ‘vampire’ movies—to the point of diffusing mainstream attention/interest, this nonetheless remarkably dark shock-fest assembles the arty fascinations of Larry Fessenden's Habit, and Abel Ferrara's powerful Addiction, with the astute meditations on retribution and moral questions about hard justice now re-examined in the latest transatlantic batch of rape/revenge pictures (Straightheads, Brave One).

  Commendably, the various scenes of blood-drenched eroticism are much less blatantly exploitative than is usual for a female-bloodsucker movie. Don't mistake it for any sort of ‘feminist statement', but this certainly is a revitalising, broodingly intense, and very welcome addition to a subgenre of cinema that's long since fallen into disregard. Bollywood queen Aishwarya Rai (Miss World 1994), won best actress awards in her native India, and has rejected dozens of Hollywood offers, but she finally takes her first English language role in Doug Lefler's fantasy adventure The Last Legion. Here, ‘Ash’ plays the fighting heroine Mira, opposite Colin Firth (as Aurelius) and Ben Kingsley (as Merlin) in this pacy Euro production about the fall of Rome, a journey to Britannia, and the search for Excalibur. Some notable faces lending support include John Hannah (The Mummy), Alexander Siddig (Star Trek: DS9), and James Cosmo (Troy). Battles are handsomely staged, and the lengthy dialogue scenes maintain thespian standards that avoid camp. Sadly, since the voguish Gladiator, the gritty King Arthur, and Zhang Yimou's exotic wu xia cycle (Curse Of The Golden Flower, Hero, House Of Flying Daggers), this picture is perhaps a little old fashioned (in easily foreseen betrayal plots, and tissue-thin characterisations), or simply lacking in sufficient dramatic rewards or hyper-realistic ambitions to raise much enthusiasm in viewers.

  "Only two, to rescue an emperor?” Happily, there's enough going on here—of measured interest, in theatrical foregrounds, if not sparsely detailed backgrounds, so its traditionally affected depictions of legend and destiny, and those few dedicated warriors making a last stand, is partly successful, at least. Luckily, too, the gorgeous Ms Rai has the necessary physicality and genuine screen presence to hold her own with established co-stars during both acting and action, so The Last Legion's really not bad for a De Laurentiis effort!

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  Copyright © 2008 Tony Lee

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  THE MIST OF LICHTHAFEN—Seth Skorkowsky

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  Seth Skorkowsky lives in Texas with his wife Kayci, and works as a Personal Banker. ‘The Mist of Lichthafen’ was his first accepted story, and he has since placed stories with The Harrow and Flashing Swords Magazine. He is currently seeking an agent for his dark fantasy novel, Dreams of Lost Souls.

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  The north pier of Lichthafen buzzed with activity as workers scrambled to load ships before the evening tide. As the sun crept down, a light breeze swept over the city, carrying the stink of smoke and filth out to sea. Kellek hated working the docks at night. The morning breeze carried the smell of salt and the sea, invigorating him, making him feel as if he were free. Not trapped in a putrid city like the evening winds reminded.

  He huffed as he and a Mercican sailor lifted a long crate onto the ship. His partner smiled broadly at their accomplishment. Kellek only turned and looked at the stack of twenty more of the back-breaking boxes. It was going to be a long night.

  His blond hair fell over his eyes as he carried another of the crates backwards up the ramp. His fingers occupied with the load, he resorted to trying to blow it out of his eyes. But after each puff, the long hair fell back over his face. The sailor on the other end chuckled at Kellek's predicament.

  He shook his head in frustration, but the faint sound of a sentry horn grabbed his attention. The signal was followed by another. One by one the tower guards of Lichthafen blasted their horns. Throughout the city, church bells encored the sirens.

  A nearby Mercinan sailor turned to him. “Is the city under attack?” he asked in a stilted accent.

  A grin crept across Kellek's lips as he shook his head. “Nein. A mist is blowing in."

  The color drained from the dark-skinned sailor's face. He relayed the news in Mercinan to the crew. The sharp smell of fear grew on the creaking vessel.

  Kellek's smile grew as he watched workers and sailors scramble off nearby ships and piers towards the city. The clatter of running feet along the boardwalk and yells of panic only added to the chaotic ringing of the city's alarms.

  He lowered his end of the crate to the deck, despite the protests of his foreign partner. Without a word he headed down the gangplank. The other local boys followed, while the sailors looked at each other in panicked confusion.

  "Hold!” yelled the ships captain. “There's still work to be done."

  "Not with a mist forming,” yelled one of the dock workers.

  "I'll double your pay if you get the ship loaded before the mist. We'll leave before it gets here."

  A few of the men stopped, but most didn't hesitate, even at the promise of good pay.

  "Money's no good to the dead, Captain,” Kellek yelled over his shoulder. “Besides, the fog might follow you out to sea. Where will you go then?"

  Kellek didn't wait for a response. He hurried past the men foolish enough to stay. Even if Pascha hadn't come to him with the proposal, he would
n't have continued working. The money wasn't worth the risk. And tomorrow he would be a rich man.

  He conserved his energy as he jogged the cobblestone street into the city. The gate guards motioned him to hurry. They had already closed one of the massive doors, forcing the townspeople into a mob as they funneled through the opening. Soldiers poured buckets of water on a giant cloth wedged under the closed gate door as he fled past.

  Around him men and women ran like panicked rats into the buildings. Above him window shutters banged shut. Doors slammed and bars thudded into place.

  Kellek nearly tripped over a small girl. Tears ran down her cheeks as she cried for her mother. Quickly he scanned the streets. He didn't see anyone who looked like a mother in search of their child.

  He cursed under his breath. He didn't have time for this, but he was reminded of his little sister Anna. She had been the same age when the mist took her.

  He squatted next to the girl and ran a hand across her wet cheek. “What's your name?"

  She looked up, her lips trembling. “Mommy!” she cried.

  He sighed in frustration. Knowing it was against his better judgment, he picked her up. “Come on, let's get you some place safe. Okay?” She wrapped her arms around his neck as he briskly carried her down the avenue.

  Most of the nearby homes and shops were already locked and barred. Several street vendors haphazardly packed their wares and carried them with them as they sought out safe havens. Other street-side stands stood abandoned, many still yielding fresh fruits, live poultry nervously squawking in cages, wood and metalwork, and an almost endless assortment of other goods left unattended. Only the truly foolish or immoral stopped to loot, but only briefly before they themselves ran for safety.

  Kellek spotted a well dressed man closing his door. He recognized him as Herr Fritz Gecher, the jeweler. He and Hasteng had once entertained the thought of breaking in that shop several months earlier.

  "Wait! Herr Gecher, wait!” Holding the child firmly he ran to the shop.

  Fritz stood inside, mere inches from closing the door. His outward curling goatee surpassed his nose as they jutted though the door crack. He squinted a look of puzzlement as Kellek drew closer.

  "Do I know you?” he asked. A massive brown dog tried to squeeze its head through the open door, slobbering and sniffing. Kellek knew the dog as Kaiser, the reason he and Hasteng never broke in.

  "Nein, you don't. But this child has lost her mother. Please let her stay until the fog has passed. She has nowhere to go."

  Fritz surveyed them momentarily as if not understanding Kellek's request, then nodded hurriedly. “Ja, of course. Please, come in.” He grabbed Kaiser's collar firmly and opened the door.

  "Danke, Herr Gecher.” Kellek stepped inside and lowered the girl to the floor. Her pale blue eyes were swollen from crying as he kissed her on the cheek. “You'll be safe here.” He stood and turned to leave.

  "Where are you going?” asked Fritz. “Why aren't you staying?"

  "There are things I need to do. Take care of her.” Kellek ran out the door and back onto the emptying street.

  "May the mist pass you safely,” he heard Fritz call out behind him before shutting his door.

  Kellek chuckled to himself as he continued his jog to Hasteng's. Any other time he wouldn't have been welcome into Fritz's shop wearing the dingy, smelly clothes of a docksman. But on nights like this one, he was asked to come inside as a guest. Funny how evil can bring the rich and poor together as brothers. At least for one night, he thought.

  After a few shortcuts through alleys and through Kammhar Park, Kellek made his way up the rickety stairs to Hasteng's tiny flat. Without knocking, he threw open the door and entered.

  Hasteng stood on the other end of the cramped one-room apartment looking out the window onto the city. His black hair was tied back. The ponytail coiled itself inside the open hood of his grey cloak.

  "Sorry it took so long,” panted Kellek. “I was at the docks when the horn sounded.” He noticed his cloak and rope were already laid out on the bed waiting for him.

  "I was getting worried.” Hasteng picked up a leather satchel from the table and put it over his shoulder. “Hurry up, we haven't much time before it breeches the walls."

  Kellek tied the dark scratchy cloak around his neck and threw the rope over his shoulder. His skin tingled with anticipation. He took a deep breath as he tied his hair back securely. Relax, he thought. This is no night to make a mistake from being anxious.

  Hasteng seemed to read his mind. After fifteen years together, he probably could. He fetched a clay bottle from a nearby table. “Here, take a nip.” The echo of the cork pop seemed loud. Kellek hadn't noticed how quiet the city had grown.

  "What is it?” he asked as he took a swig. The burning liquid took his breath.

  "Rhomanic Vodka. I got it for after the job. Stout isn't it?"

  Kellek nodded, coughing in agreement.

  Hasteng grinned, holding up the bottle. “To the best thieves in Lichthafen.” He knocked back a long drink. He blew a hard breath. “The rest is for afterwards."

  Carefully they climbed out the window onto the roof. The night seemed peaceful, but Kellek knew the truth. A bright waxing moon gleamed silvery light down on the city. There was no sign of life. He stood on his toes and could just see over the great walls. A sea of the dark mist completely surrounded the city. Waves of the fog crashed into the perimeter towers like slow moving breakers. Kellek looked down the empty street towards the East Gate. The sinister mist seeped through the door cracks like a dam about to give way.

  Hasteng surveyed the scene quickly. “The guards are gone. We have the city to ourselves.” He shot a toothy grin. “Let's go!” Without hesitation he turned and ran, jumping off their roof onto the next. At the same time, Kellek watched the fog surge over the walls. It cascaded down them on all sides of the city. It would soon fill the streets. He took a quick breath and followed his companion.

  He breathed steadily as they hopped from rooftop to rooftop. The wooden shingles creaked underfoot. His mind kept telling him that they would slip and make him crash into the streets below. But he knew better.

  They had practiced this run two times before. Those nights were moonless and dark. They had to be careful not to be spotted by any townspeople, or the tower guards. But now the townspeople were all in their home, crammed into taverns or fortified in churches. The guards were locked securely inside their stone towers. No one could see them. And if they did, what could they do? Hasteng was right. The city was theirs.

  They stopped on a flat-topped roof. The next building was too far to jump. Kellek could see the outline of Vathristern Cathedral silhouetted against the sky. Looking down he watched the dark mist pouring through the avenues and alleyways like floodwater. Already over half the city was filled with the waist-deep fog.

  Somewhere nearby, a dog barked wildly. The mist had already covered that part of the city. He couldn't see it. The barking grew more frantic. Suddenly the dog let out a yelp of pain and went silent. Another victim of the fog.

  "Help me with this,” said Hasteng. He picked up the end of a long wooden platform that lay against the low wall around the roof. He and Kellek had made the bridge a month ago and had left it here for this night.

  Together they lifted it endwise and lowered across the chasm to the far rooftop. Its weight made it awkward to hold it by one end as they guided it over the river of mist below. After some grunting and a panic as they almost dropped it, they set the far end on the roof ledge across the street.

  Kellek shook it firmly. “Feels secure.” He stepped onto the wall and began his way over the rift. The narrow bridge sagged and creaked under his weight. He scooted his feet quickly across, never taking his eyes off the end. He didn't breathe. The bridge felt as if it would give any second. His heart raced as he neared the ledge.

  With a gasp, he set foot on the solid stone lip that jutted out from the building. Without hesitation Kellek climbed over the s
hort wall and onto the roof top. He turned to see Hasteng begin to traverse the street behind him. Below, the fog had already risen to the tops of the doors. It moved in a slow current, its waves lapping up and feeling the bottoms of windowsills like tendrils.

  Kellek had lived in Lichthafen all his life. The mist was just another part of the city. Just the same as the stink, taxes, corrupt guards, extortionists, thieves, and overpriced flats. Every fall and spring it loomed as a threat, sometimes visiting the city up to thrice a year. However, this was his first time to actually see it. He had only witnessed its aftermath. He'd heard the cries of men beating on his door begging sanctuary as it invaded the city. Those unfortunate enough to be locked outside were often never heard from again. Some were left alive, but driven mad, telling wild stories of monsters and demons dwelling within the living fog.