Mental Ward: Stories from the Asylum

Sanatorium, mental ward, psychiatric hospital – they’re all the same. Places where the infirm, the crazy, and the certifiable go for treatment… Or what passes for ‘treatment’.

This is a collection of stories of bedlam taking place within the padded walls of an institution. Stories of experiments gone wrong, patients revolting against the staff, or even the deranged doings of those charged with giving care. They are sick, depraved, and atrocious – the type of stories that rarely reach the light of day.

Are you brave enough to crawl inside the minds of the twelve authors who wrote these tales… Or are you afraid you’ll be locked up for peeking?

Featuring the talents of:

Alex Chase, Sean Conway, Megan Dorei, A.A. Garrison, Tom Howard, Russell Linton, Suzie Lockhart and Bruce Lockhard 2^nd, Jennifer Loring, Sergio Palumbo, Joseph A. Pinto, and D.M. Smith

We’d like to take this moment to thank all of the authors who submitted stories for consideration. We hope to have final decisions made within three to four weeks. Your patience is kindly appreciated

Submissions for our non-paying eZine The Sirens Call are still be excepted until May 31st, 2013. The theme for this issue is ‘Bugs’. Check out all the details at: www.SirensCallPublications.com!

Deadline is Monday, May 20th, 2013

Need a little inspiration?

Not afraid of the water, are you? Maybe you haven’t thought about what might be down there… Write us something original; tell us what is so terrifying about two Hydrogen atoms bonded to one Oxygen atom forming a single molecule. Should we be afraid of the water itself, or what it might be hiding below its surface? Shallow murky depths, clear hot springs that are deceptively deep, or underground caverns holding secrets yet to be discovered.

Think about it. Don’t just spin an average yarn – we want the reader to wonder if the next time they dip their toes into the water, it be their last.

The series is called FEAR, that should fairly well define the parameters, and remember – we publish fictional tales, not scientific journals.

Full details can be found on our website – www.SirensCallPublications.com!

Laura Brown is a writer and artist from Hampshire, England.  A lover of literature and the arts from a young age, she also writes under the pen name ‘Blackavar’, and writes for online magazine, EGL Magazine.  She has been writing since she could hold a pen, but since the summer of 2012 has become a fiction author and begun to live the dream.  A self-proclaimed Goth, bookworm, geek and rabbit enthusiast, she loves all things strange and unusual.

Steampunk and the Clockwork Doll

Clockwork Doll was my first attempt to write a Steampunk story, although I’m very familiar with the genre and the associated fashion/aesthetic.  I love the imagery that it has produced, from literature, to artwork, to clothing, and even video games, but it was something of a challenge to take this very different concept, and apply it to creative writing for the first time.  I had to think carefully about what sort of world I wanted to present, what subject matter I wanted to explore- both horror and Steampunk are surprisingly broad genres.  In the end, I settled on creating a Steampunk environment, in which something frightening occurs—basic but effective.  This is the wonderful thing about horror; it slips and creeps into every genre imaginable, lurking in the shadows.

In the end, I went for a rather basic setting—an alternative Victorian London, with an early, but advanced Underground system and the introduction of automatons.  It is a world that is beautiful and crafted, gleaming and polished… but as with reality, even this London has its dark side.  I really loved the idea of something that seemed so fragile, innocent- harmless even—being revealed as something sinister and disturbing… and that was how the clockwork dolls came about.  I remember labouring over the ideas for some time while at my desk at my “day job”, but gradually, something creepy began to emerge, and the story began practically writing itself.

I think there’s something of a debate about what constitutes “Steampunk”, because the genre has become so broad and extensive.  On the fashion side of it, it appeals very strongly to the Goth and alternative subcultures, yet remains stand-alone, a movement in its own right.  Aware of how expansive Steampunk can be, I’m sometimes hesitant to try and describe it, but on a very basic level, to me, Steampunk literature is usually stories that take place around the Industrial Revolution or Victorian and Edwardian eras, and is greatly influenced by the earliest science-fiction novels, such as the works of HG Wells and Jules Verne.  The play and creativity in inventing new technology that runs on alternative power sources such as steam or clockwork is at the heart of the genre, but it’s so much more than that.  As with Gothic, a whole aesthetic and particular gold-bronze imagery has sprung up around the movement; making it a little difficult to define, but also extremely creative.

The possibilities become almost limitless with Steampunk.  You can take it down the gritty route of realism, but it also blends well with fantasy.  As Bellows of the Bone Box shows, it can easily take a darker shade of gold, and produced nightmares of its own.  Essentially this “old fashioned” science-fiction is the heart of Steampunk (a total opposite to cyberpunk), the wonder and the imagination.  It can stretch out into alternate worlds and even alternate histories.  The rules can even be applied to different time periods- look at Dieselpunk, Atompunk or Decopunk for example.  The paths it can take, and the stories that can be told are countless.

Ultimately, however, alongside that bronze, gleaming imagery and the inventive, curious science-fiction, exploration is the key with Steampunk.  It can be exploration into new worlds, new frontiers; social, political, historical, technological.  It can be delving into the centre of the earth, the mind of a madman, or the heart of a machine.  Steampunk is an exploration, a creative sensation. It can even explore in the deep recesses of darkness…that is the appeal of Steampunk, both as a reader, and as a writer.

***

The Steampunk and Horror genres are masterfully combined in the twelve stories contained within Bellows of the Bone Box. Each of the authors has transported you to an age where steam is the dominate means of power and has woven a tale that will fascinate, or possibly scandalize you.

In this volume, you will find clockworks, pneumatic tubes, airships, and leather worn out of necessity – not vanity. Can an engine be powered by human blood; should it be? What about body modification; what happens when the mechanical meets the biological and goes awry? Does the heart rule the machine, or does the machine consume the humanity that once existed within it? What of airships, regeneration, or hallucination; is it safe to trifle with such things? Should technology that can rift time and dimensions be researched; and if that research proves fruitful, should it ever see the light of day?

Packed full of intrigue, imagination, and horror, lovers of Steampunk will have a hard time deciding which of the twelve is their favorite!

Featuring the talents of:

Brad Bass, Paul Boulet, Laura Brown, Vivian Caethe, Alex Chase, Megan Dorei, O.M. Grey, Tarl Hoch, Gavin Ireland, Kirk Jones, Kate Monroe and Christofer Nigro

Available on:

Amazon US, Amazon UK, Amazon CDN, CreateSpace, Smashwords

***

The following is an excerpt from Laura’s Clockwork Doll in Bellows of the Bone Box -

At night, the Underground outshone the streets above.  As daylight fled, gaslights glowed into life, yet could never vanquish the darkness on the streets of London.  But the Underground… Oh! What a marvel!  Its construction had been bought forward and completed earlier than expected… now a warren-like network of underground tunnels laced beneath London’s streets and buildings, inhabited by a number of small, gleaming locomotives, more elegant and streamlined than their earth-bound predecessors.

They were works of art in their own right, engineered for efficiency and purpose, but crafted for beauty.  Veronica had often admired their long bronze carriages, always glowing with their own gaslights and looking somewhat jewel-like when they smoothly came to a halt at the equally beautiful platforms.

For although this was underground, light was captured, reflected and re-gifted by walls of bright, burnished bronze and silver, and white marble floors.  Had the lamps been of a harsher light, perhaps the effect would have been overly dazzling, but instead, commuters, travellers and visitors were welcomed into London’s very heart and body by the warm glow of the sub-loco stations.

Tonight, Veronica was more grateful than ever for the light.  Her short walk from the Kensington Library to the steps that slipped beneath ground-level had been fraught with anxiety and, by her own admission,paranoia.  She had looked over her shoulder the whole way, startling at any new shadow or movement, not that there had been many.  She had been somewhat alarmed to discover the station unmanned – only the automatic ticket-guard for company, which had punched a hole in her ticket mechanically and granted her access to the platform with a whirr of gears.  As she took a seat on a platform bench and attempted to compose herself, she told herself that it wasn’t altogether out of the ordinary for the station to be this quiet at this time of night.  Veronica had been unfortunate, having been required to stay at the library far later than usual for an impromptu inventory imposed by the unsympathetic Head Librarian.

Really, it was quite improper to demand that a young woman such as Veronica stay so late and then return home with no chaperone in the middle of the night.  But then, it was also beastly to expect her to do so with the… incident… only a few weeks behind her.

Veronica straightened her skirts and her hat and folded her hands neatly on her lap.  Her thoughts began to stray to that awful night… oh Mr. Cromwell, her employer, was truly an awful man.  She recalled his apathetic words and manner… “A young lady such as you has no business in Whitechapel after all, Miss Dawson; you have only yourself to blame.”

Thank you for visiting everyday for the past few days as we featured many of the authors in Bellows of the Bone Box and their inspiration behind their stories!

When not crouched away in dark coffeehouses or jazz clubs, Paul productively contributes to society in the guise of a consultant and corporate serf, specializing in managing technology and software development projects. In sharp contrast, his restless imagination and background in literature and linguistics draws him to more creative pursuits. He currently shelters as an invading flatlander, hidden in plain sight along the trackless reaches of Southern Wisconsin with his wife and indeterminate number of house pets. His primary influences include Lovecraft, Herbert, Orwell, Faulkner, Pynchon, Coleridge, Tennyson, Baudelaire, Thucydides, Herodotus (of Halicarnassus) with an honorable mention to Sophocles without whom he would not know what to call the Sophoclean Hero. You can find him on Twitter, but quite frankly he’s yet to tweet anything.

Spiritless inspiration: Some background thoughts behind The Vampyre and the Clockwork Man

This story started with Arnold – a true statement in more ways than one.  The story of Arnold Paul is itself legendary among the vast legacy of vampiric legends.  A casual Wikipedia search will supply the details (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arnold_Paole).  For all the “true believers” out there, poor Arnold’s tale is an actual historical account.  Perhaps it’s legitimate evidence of an undead reality or easily dismissed when considering some odd characteristics of human decomposition known to that region.  So, in the truest sense of the revisionist nature of Steampunk fiction, it seemed right to liberate Arnold from his troubled unrest among his rustic native people.  After being cast out as some kind of vampire/leper, a pragmatic creature like Arnold would have certainly deemed it wise to secret himself away on an airliner and allow it to supply him with a sustainable procession of fresh and vulnerable victims.

Already firmly affixed into vampiric history, cursed Arnold was further galvanized into literary history by the popularity of like myths among the authors of the 19th century.  But that is itself another legend within a legend, this time, a literary legend.  One dreary day in the summer of 1816, some of the time’s greatest literary minds gathered at a Swiss villa by Lake Geneva.  I’m sure the villa’s owner, Lord Byron, was his typical Dionysian self, entertaining Percy Shelley, young Mary Wollstonecraft (later to be Shelley) and the author/physician John William Polidori (among others).  The legend goes that they were all up late reading horror anthologies (perhaps not unlike Bellows in many ways) when Byron issued a challenge.  Who among them could write the best ghost story?  I’ve never heard of the criteria for determining the winner though Mary W. Shelley’s Frankenstein or the Modern Prometheus emerged as the most famous story that came as a result.  Not to mention its obvious contribution to popular culture for almost 200 years.  But not to be overly dismissive, the other entries were not without their own (although lesser) impacts.  Byron’s incomplete contribution has become known as, A Fragment of a Novel, which is as accurate as any title could be.  Though originally attributed to Byron’s authorship, John Polidori later expounded upon the fragment into a complete story entitled, The Vampyre, a Tale.  Before embarking on the main text, he offers some context in the form of an Introduction to the tale (which I presume to have been added by JWP as the Sherwood, Neely, and Jones, edition 1819 names no other contributors).

“In the London Journal, of March, 1732, is a curious, and, of course, credible account of a particular case of vampyrism, which is stated to have occurred at Madreyga, in Hungary. It appears, that upon an examination of the commander-in-chief and magistrates of the place, they positively and unanimously affirmed, that, about five years before, a certain Heyduke, named Arnold Paul, had been heard to say, that, at Cassovia, on the frontiers of the Turkish Servia, he had been tormented by a vampyre, but had found a way to rid himself of the evil, by eating some of the earth out of the vampyre’s grave, and rubbing himself with his blood. This precaution, however, did not prevent him from becoming a vampyre himself; for, about twenty or thirty days after his death and burial, many persons complained of having been tormented by him, and a deposition was made, that four persons had been deprived of life by his attacks”  (JWP from the publication mentioned above.)

But Polidori’s vampire was very unlike humble Arnold.  In contrast to the folk tales of the 18th century, these Romantic authors took the vampire out of his humble, pastoral settings and thrust them into the heart of the erudite, wealthy, hedonistic and, often times, corrupt ranks of European royalty.  Vampires were no longer relegated to being a kind of plague, infecting livestock and troubling good townsfolk.  The vampire’s ascendance continued through the 19th century when Bram Stoker gave us the famous Count in 1897.  But in many ways, it all started with Arnold.

I’m very pleased to retell a portion of Arnold’s story in The Vampyre and the Clockwork Man. His name will surely continue to be invoked as long as vampire stories are told.  As per the real Arnold Paul, perhaps breathe a quiet prayer that his eternal rest is less purgatorial than what he endured in life – and whatever he may have suffered in-between.

***

The Steampunk and Horror genres are masterfully combined in the twelve stories contained within Bellows of the Bone Box. Each of the authors has transported you to an age where steam is the dominate means of power and has woven a tale that will fascinate, or possibly scandalize you.

In this volume, you will find clockworks, pneumatic tubes, airships, and leather worn out of necessity – not vanity. Can an engine be powered by human blood; should it be? What about body modification; what happens when the mechanical meets the biological and goes awry? Does the heart rule the machine, or does the machine consume the humanity that once existed within it? What of airships, regeneration, or hallucination; is it safe to trifle with such things? Should technology that can rift time and dimensions be researched; and if that research proves fruitful, should it ever see the light of day?

Packed full of intrigue, imagination, and horror, lovers of Steampunk will have a hard time deciding which of the twelve is their favorite!

Featuring the talents of:

Brad Bass, Paul Boulet, Laura Brown, Vivian Caethe, Alex Chase, Megan Dorei, O.M. Grey, Tarl Hoch, Gavin Ireland, Kirk Jones, Kate Monroe and Christofer Nigro

Available on:

Amazon US, Amazon UK, Amazon CDN, CreateSpace, Smashwords

***

The following is a snippet of Paul’s The Vampyre and the Clockwork Man in Bellows of the Bone Box -

Nightmare spaces swell between the first flickers of waking thought and the underlying layers of the subconscious; like cancerous tumors and the clutter behind locked doors and the filth that slips beneath sewer drains. An interloper that accumulates in the tucked away recesses of unused crawlspaces and the eroding remains of forgotten purpose. If left unmolested, it can assume a heatless state, seemingly content to merely subsist. Left to fester on the surface of dark secrets; like Catholic guilt or undiverted self-loathing. It will only become active when provoked, stabbing up through the seams of consciousness and invading the waking mind. As when hunger stimulates salivation; the emergent ache a forewarning, pointing toward the inevitable. Addiction to sustenance; the constraint of physicality, the dread yet needful bane of existence. Running its course, dependency supplants the will to resist. It gnaws at the psyche and eventually begins its purposeful march toward longing. The kind of longing that’s destined to become intolerable longing. Irresistible. Passing the thresholds of decided abstinence, desperation makes for the desperate acts of desperate men. It is the progenitor of motive, father of consumption, mother of innovation. The fundamental exception to all moral imperatives against which the conscious only poses pathetic arguments. Gnawing pangs of guilt tighten, making for a poor rival to the incontestable force of hunger. And yet, guilt sinks deeply into the self perceived weakness of dependency. No matter what the system of ethics, morality surely calls for defiance if remediation is impossible. Inadvertently impossible because of its own essence, by the nature of its being. The will can attempt to struggle, deny dependency as it may. Deny being. Deny self. Deceive self.  But necessity ultimately overrules, either consume or expire. The will’s failure is merely a matter of time. Moral success can only be measured in proportions; resisting longer than the last time or failing to resist as long. Failure to convince the self that resistance is becoming easier when the reverse is true. When all hope for remediation is abandoned, hope of absolution dies with it. Each failure to resist mounts upon another, after another, after another to unbearable weights. Ethics then dictate that existence is immoral.  The wrong-doer should be punished by frequency and degrees per each wrongful act; an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life. The grand corollary of corporal punishment, and capital. Lacking a judge, jury or executioner, the responsibility falls solely to the self. Guilt summons the judge to court, conscious rallies the jurors and the will dons the black hood and hefts the axe. Prior to execution there’s nothing but the ceaseless fixation on the tragedy of being, the swelling accumulation of guilt’s oppression and the ever sinking depths of swelling hunger. Another term of resistance. The foreknowledge of inevitable failure.

Incandescent lights spark and warm like fanned embers. Startled, a skulking patch of nightmare space slips away, fleeing toward shadowy recesses at the heights of lofty steel arches. The wheel of a pressure hatch turns, breaking long held seals…

Come back tomorrow for the last inspiration post from the authors of Bellows of the Bone Box!

Gavin is an ex-soldier, ex-helicopter engineer and family man who also tells tall tales.His interests include writing, walking and Lindy Hopping as well as maintaining a few websites. Influenced by H. P. Lovecraft , Edgar Allen Poe, Clive Barker, Dean Koontz and Stephen King, he has many more stories waiting to be told. Gavin can be found on Twitter and on his website at www.gavinireland.co.uk.

The Inspiration Behind Disarmament

To be honest, this was my first attempt to write anything steampunk. I had an idea what steampunk was, although it never appeared high up my reading list. I think I’d seen too many recent film re-makes where they had tried to introduce steampunk elements to ‘action it up’. OK, so maybe the Guy Ritchie version of Sherlock Holmes wasn’t too bad, but almost all of the rest were awful. I know, it’s like being put off cars because you had a few dodgy motors in the past, right?

I mostly write horror, sometimes with a sci-fi background, sometimes with a psychological bent, but when I saw the call for submissions it just happened to coincide with me re-reading Clive Barker’s Books of Blood. In particular The Body Politic in which people’s body parts become independently sentient and commit murder in an attempt to escape and live free. I’m a big fan of Clive Barker and I couldn’t help but visualise this story as I read it. Imagine having to watch helplessly as one of your hands cut the other off so it could run away!

So it got me thinking, what if you were given a replacement body part, which developed a will of its own and it decided to rebel? Maybe the reason for this could be because of the methods used to prevent your body rejecting it? But it is rejecting your body.  For that to work, I thought it would have to come from a time before the clever anti-rejection drugs we have nowadays were available; From a time when the medical profession was largely experimental and at least partly secretive and frowned upon. So really, the story became steampunk without any direction from me, I just wrote the words as they came. I guess you could say that the story was severing itself from my own preconceived prejudices.

Luckily for me, the team at Sirens Call Publications liked the idea and the story. Thanks to the hard work and great advice of Gloria Bobrowicz, we got Disarmament polished and ready for you to read in this great anthology.

***

The Steampunk and Horror genres are masterfully combined in the twelve stories contained within Bellows of the Bone Box. Each of the authors has transported you to an age where steam is the dominate means of power and has woven a tale that will fascinate, or possibly scandalize you.

In this volume, you will find clockworks, pneumatic tubes, airships, and leather worn out of necessity – not vanity. Can an engine be powered by human blood; should it be? What about body modification; what happens when the mechanical meets the biological and goes awry? Does the heart rule the machine, or does the machine consume the humanity that once existed within it? What of airships, regeneration, or hallucination; is it safe to trifle with such things? Should technology that can rift time and dimensions be researched; and if that research proves fruitful, should it ever see the light of day?

Packed full of intrigue, imagination, and horror, lovers of Steampunk will have a hard time deciding which of the twelve is their favorite!

Featuring the talents of:

Brad Bass, Paul Boulet, Laura Brown, Vivian Caethe, Alex Chase, Megan Dorei, O.M. Grey, Tarl Hoch, Gavin Ireland, Kirk Jones, Kate Monroe and Christofer Nigro

Available on:

Amazon US, Amazon UK, Amazon CDN, CreateSpace, Smashwords

***

Here is a snippet from Gavin’s tale Disarmament in Bellows of the Bone Box -

Not so long ago, the constant clip-clopping of the horse shoes on the cobbles would soothe and relax me. I had fallen asleep on occasion from the side to side rocking of the carriage as we sped through the dark city streets, but not this time. Everything was irritating me since those infernal mechanical lights had been installed in carriages. Too bright, too hot and too damn noisy. My landlady was installing them all over the house and it was just a matter of time before she put them in my room.

“You really hate them don’t you, sir?”

“Hmm? What are you talking about, Mills?”

“The mechanical lights, sir. You were glaring at them, clenching your fist and gritting your teeth.”

“Good observation, but no, I don’t hate the lights. I hate what they represent. The insidious replacement of everything good and natural with machines.”

“But, sir…”

“Quiet now, Mills, we’ll be there in a moment.”

The carriage drew into a side road, came to a sudden halt and jerked back and forth on its springs. I jumped out whilst Mills gathered himself. The area was closed off by a good number of constables and lit up as bright as day with those damned mechanical lights.

“Inspector. This way please. Over here.”

I heard the shout of the Sergeant over the general hubbub of the constables and in an instant the noise died away as nervous young men tried to watch me without being seen. A path through the cordon opened for me as I approached.

“He was found by a whore less than an hour ago sir. The same as the last two.”

I could see the body but the shadows, or should I say the lack of shadows, were all wrong.

“Boy. Get me an oil lamp.”

“We’ve a mechanical lamp ready for you sir.”

“Get me an oil lamp now, or find yourself a new job. Turn these ridiculous lights off; I’m blinded by their unnatural brilliance.”

The young constable dashed off to carry out my orders. They don’t understand my distrust of mechanical things and I accept they hate me for my temper, but they’ll learn or they’ll fail.

“A friendly tone has been known to produce good results.”

“I have no need of friends, Mills. What I do need, is people that will do as they’re told and not question or correct me.”

Silence again, apart from the nervous shuffling of boots on stone.

“What observations have you made so far, Sergeant?”

“Well sir. Like the last two…”

Come back tomorrow for another inspiration post from one of the authors in Bellows of the Bone Box!

Ms. Caethe was introduced to speculative fiction at an early age by growing up in the Land of Enchantment. She writes on the side while sticking to her day job of telling people what to do and being mildly surprised when they comply. An avid tea connoisseur, she knits and cross stitches in her spare time. You can find Vivian online on Facebook, on Twitter, and she blogs at eightofswords.tumblr.com.

Steampunk and The Frequency of Demons

Steampunk is a reflection on what could, and in some cases, should, have been. When I write steampunk, I like to think of “what if” and take that to its conclusion in the context of the 1800s’ society and culture. In my story, The Frequency of Demons, the question arises of “what if experiments in new technology had unintended supernatural consequences?”

The Victorian Era was one in which it was easy to believe that anything could happen. The world had expanded under the influence of the British Empire and opportunities were increasingly available to white men throughout the world. In Steampunk, this sense of a broad, new world is expanded to encompass not only those who are traditionally privileged, but also women and minorities, including members of other cultures and GLBTQ characters.

The delight of steampunk is in finding those possibilities and expanding upon them to reflect not only on the culture of that time, but also the culture of our time. What possibilities do we unleash in the Steampunk Era that reflect on the possibilities of our own? What injustices can we address that reflect on injustices in our own world?

Fiction is, and always shall be, a reflection on the culture and values of the society in which it originates. Speculative fiction, including Steampunk, has the additional onus, or perhaps privilege, of being able to question the status quo.

Steampunk challenges the status quo and brings the history of the modern world into question. What could have been, what should have been? We can change history through the lens of Steampunk, but should we?

I believe the answer is an emphatic, “Yes!”

***

The Steampunk and Horror genres are masterfully combined in the twelve stories contained within Bellows of the Bone Box. Each of the authors has transported you to an age where steam is the dominate means of power and has woven a tale that will fascinate, or possibly scandalize you.

In this volume, you will find clockworks, pneumatic tubes, airships, and leather worn out of necessity – not vanity. Can an engine be powered by human blood; should it be? What about body modification; what happens when the mechanical meets the biological and goes awry? Does the heart rule the machine, or does the machine consume the humanity that once existed within it? What of airships, regeneration, or hallucination; is it safe to trifle with such things? Should technology that can rift time and dimensions be researched; and if that research proves fruitful, should it ever see the light of day?

Packed full of intrigue, imagination, and horror, lovers of Steampunk will have a hard time deciding which of the twelve is their favorite!

Featuring the talents of:

Brad Bass, Paul Boulet, Laura Brown, Vivian Caethe, Alex Chase, Megan Dorei, O.M. Grey, Tarl Hoch, Gavin Ireland, Kirk Jones, Kate Monroe and Christofer Nigro

Available on:

Amazon US, Amazon UK, Amazon CDN, CreateSpace, Smashwords

***

The following is an excerpt from Vivian’s The Frequency of Demons from Bellows of the Bone Box -

April 14th, 1903

Dear Mother,

My deepest apologies for neglecting to write for so long. It has been difficult for me to compose my thoughts clearly lately. But I feel as if I owe it to you to explain my near-disappearance for the past five years. At first I hoped that there would be no bad blood concerning the issue with Roger, but after that point I simply had no time to spare.

Before I begin to attempt to address more recent events, I must start at the matter of my employment, a topic which I have not discussed previously due to the respect I held for my employer and his desire for secrecy. Due to circumstances which I will reveal to you through the course of this missive, I now feel less constrained to conceal certain facts.

My hand trembles as I write this. I have been unable to even think about it coherently for the past weeks since the event. I think of this as a confessional, but it brings with it none of the comfort of redemption. Perhaps it is too late for repentance, or maybe forgiveness is not mine to receive. Even so, I feel compelled to finish this, to leave a record, or perhaps a warning.

I began working for Dr. Gideon five years ago. It seems strange to count it in a mere enumeration of years; the experiences and knowledge I have gained during that period of time exceed the count of days and months. I would not be surprised if they have aged me beyond the measure of time.

Those five years saw us through the turn of the century, a time during which many were predicting the end of the world, their proof in every movement and sigh of Nature and Society. I would venture to propose that such expectations have been accompanying the turn of every century since the beginning of time immemorial. However, in this case they may have been well founded, if somewhat premature. At least in the case of Dr. Gideon’s last experiment.

I fear I am getting ahead of myself; perhaps it may still be too soon to compose my thoughts in a cogent fashion. Please permit me to attempt again.

It was a breezy spring morning when I first found myself at the door of Dr. Gideon’s office. At the time it was located in central Rochester before he moved to a safer, more remote location. There had been a small sign in the window advertising employment and since at the time I was quite bereft of a means of support, I availed myself of the opportunity. Perhaps something had prompted me to the realization that this would not be a factory job. The demise of many at the hands of those unfortunate necessities of industrialization was enough to instill in me a desire for something better than my present situation provided.

Unlike some of his more extravagant colleagues, Dr. Gideon possessed an air of quiet reserve that disguised a frightening intelligence. When I first walked through the door, I found him seated quietly in the midst of an unruly collection of metal and wood…

Come back tomorrow for another inspiration piece from one of the authors featured in Bellows of the Bone Box!

Brad Bass is married, has three kids and lives in Milwaukie, Oregon. He has worked for the Oregon State Lottery since 1998. He loves writing, movies and is an avid runner. Brad has previously published Ehlron World of Magic and The Guardian: An Angel Story. He is currently working on his next novel and can be found on Twitter at @Brad_Bass or on Facebook.

Inspiration and Steampunk

Hello.  My name is Brad and I wrote the short story Shred. It’s a privilege to be included in this new anthology called Bellows of the Bone Box published by Sirens Call Publications.

I was asked two things; one – what was your motivation; and two – what does Steampunk mean to you?

This may sound unbelievable but my motivation for Shred was the picture that was posted on the Sirens Call Publications open submission page.  As a writer, when I am looking to submit my work, I will look at a Publisher’s website and look at the type of submission they are looking for.  The picture they posted, for some unknown reason, inspired me to write Shred.  I am always happy for any inspiration that gets me to put pen to paper and this time I owe a big thanks to SCP!

Now when I think of Steampunk there are two great movies that come to my mind. George Miller’s Mad Max from 1979 and the 1982 Ridley Scott movie Blade Runner. I do love both of these movies!  If you haven’t seen them, treat yourself and see them right away!  I hope you like my story Shred!  Happy Reading and Well Wishes!

***

The Steampunk and Horror genres are masterfully combined in the twelve stories contained within Bellows of the Bone Box. Each of the authors has transported you to an age where steam is the dominate means of power and has woven a tale that will fascinate, or possibly scandalize you.

In this volume, you will find clockworks, pneumatic tubes, airships, and leather worn out of necessity – not vanity. Can an engine be powered by human blood; should it be? What about body modification; what happens when the mechanical meets the biological and goes awry? Does the heart rule the machine, or does the machine consume the humanity that once existed within it? What of airships, regeneration, or hallucination; is it safe to trifle with such things? Should technology that can rift time and dimensions be researched; and if that research proves fruitful, should it ever see the light of day?

Packed full of intrigue, imagination, and horror, lovers of Steampunk will have a hard time deciding which of the twelve is their favorite!

Featuring the talents of:

Brad Bass, Paul Boulet, Laura Brown, Vivian Caethe, Alex Chase, Megan Dorei, O.M. Grey, Tarl Hoch, Gavin Ireland, Kirk Jones, Kate Monroe and Christofer Nigro

Available on:

Amazon US, Amazon UK, Amazon CDN, CreateSpace, Smashwords

***

Here is a snippet of Brad’s Shred from Bellows of the Bone Box -

Screaming by at lightning speed brings teardrops to my eyes.

Sometimes it is hard to breathe when wearing a disguise.

It is time to say your prayers.  It’s time for you to die.

There is nothing more to say, there is no reason why.

I closed the door behind me.  The room was almost completely dark and smelled of rot. Thankfully, I had changed the filter in my mask.  I checked the dial on my air mix.  The only light that dared enter the room came through small finger holes in the stained curtain hanging over the large window.  As I took a step, I felt a crunch. I looked down; beneath the scattered garbage and clothing, the floor was covered in dead insects.  I had never been here before, but the scene was all too familiar.  I scanned the room, then quickly crossed the space.  My senses tingled with excitement.  Could I have finally made it?  Could it really be here?  Anticipation made my heart beat faster.  Once at the window, I flung the curtain aside allowing the light from the glowing neon to fill the room.  In the air, thousands of flies could be seen.  This apartment was so high up that even the air cars were far below me.  It was the middle of the day but as usual, the sky was nearly black, the pollution alerts had been blaring for hours. Again, I glanced around; I was alone.  In the corner of the room running from floor to ceiling were large green and black tubes glistening with sweat.  The sound of rushing fluid could be heard emanating from them. Next to that, there was a small refrigeration unit with its door hanging open; a filthy sink with a shelf above it containing what looked like eating utensils, a couple of plates, and two or three cups.  On the floor lay a brown mattress.  On the mattress was a large lump of dirty blankets.  I carefully reached down and pulled the stiff fabric back to see what lay underneath.  Just as he’d said, there was a corpse.  It was in such a state of decay that I nearly vomited into my mask. Both of the wrists had been cut – an obvious suicide. I reached down and started to feel for what I had come here for.  Clutched in its hand wasn’t what I wanted, wasn’t what I was told would be there.

I had spent most of my life savings paying off what I thought were the right people. If this was a dead end… My stomach tightened at the thought.

I wanted the Bone Box but instead I found a tattered piece of paper.

“What the fuck!” I shouted.

Severely disappointed, I had to pry the fingers apart to get at the document. In the dim light I could see that there were scribbles on the paper, but I couldn’t tell what it said because it had been saturated in bodily fluids. Damn it! I would have to look at it later.  Carefully, I stuck the crumpled scrap into my pants, then with gloved hands, I felt along the corpse for anything else that might be of value. There was nothing…

Come back tomorrow for another inspiration piece from one of the authors in Bellows of the Bone Box!

Olivia M. Grey writes Steamy Steampunk, like the Amazon Gothic Romance bestseller Avalon Revisited. Her short stories and poetry have been published in various magazines and anthologies, like SNM Horror Magazine and How the West Was Wicked. Ms. Grey also blogs and podcasts relationship essays covering such topics as alternative lifestyles, deepening intimacy, ending a relationship with love and respect, and other deliciously dark and decadent matters of the heart and soul.

Read more by O. M. Grey on her blog Caught in the Cogs, http://omgrey.wordpress.com.

The Inspiration Behind Love is for the Living

Inspiration for stories sometimes comes from the strangest places. A dream. A conversation. A relationship. A fleeting thought. Writing prompts. An image. A movie scene or snippet of dialogue. Historical events. Surviving trauma. A broken heart. Betrayal. I’ve written stories that have come from all of these and more.

Inspiration for a story is definitely the first step. Ideas. I’ve come across so many emerging authors who are terrified people will steal their ideas.

Ideas are a dime a million.

Creating something with those ideas is where the real work, and some say talent, comes in. At a Steampunk convention on the Queen Mary, we did a writer-in-the-round exercise where the moderator gave us a basic plot or beginning sentence, and we had to take it from there for three minutes. At the end of each writer’s turn, the next writer had to pick up where the last left off. It was a fascinating exercise, as each writer took the story in an entirely different direction and with a different style and voice than I would have. The discussion afterward proved that each author felt the same way.

Ideas, that spark of inspiration, are the first step, but a step does not a journey make.

Now, I said that ideas are a dime a million, and that’s true….if you’re good at the idea part. I’m not. Ideas are precious to me, as I don’t have that many. I can develop an idea into a pretty damn good story, once it takes seed, but unique ideas don’t come to me all that easily.

That’s why I’ve adopted a muse or two along the way. It’s also where Duotrope’s calendar and lists of themed anthologies come in handy. They ignite that spark of inspiration. My main muse, DJ Doctor Q, is full of fascinating, brilliant ideas! He’s got a head full of turning gears that do nothing but generate amazing ideas. When it’s time for me to write another short story, if I’ve got nothing, which, let’s face it, is almost always, then I ping my sweet muse. He spouts off four or five one sentence plot ideas, all brilliant, and one will take seed in my demented brain. Characters sprout. Scenes grow. Dialogue blooms.

I sit. I write and write and write. Then, I write some more. After all that, I revise and revise and revise. Then the characters take me places I never thought I’d go, usually in a totally different direction than Q would’ve thought, too. It becomes my story from Q’s seed. Q is thrilled with the arrangement because he gets to be a part of this creative process that he loves but feels he hasn’t the talent to develop (I disagree, btw). I love it because I get great ideas that spark even more ideas in my own twisted mind which turn into more stories.

Love is for the Living, the story in Bellows of the Bone Box: A Steampunk Anthology came from the merging of two seeds, maybe even three. It was the first time I had written short stories in this way. I had run a Kickstarter campaign to raise money for a cover artist, new podcasting microphone, and a print run for two new titles. One of the rewards was to have your very own short story written by me. Five different people chose that level, and they gave me as much or as little input as they’d like. Timo, the protagonist for Love is for the Living, gave his name, a basic physical description, the choice for it to be erotic, and the phrase Love is for the Living. Q suggested a succubus and opium den, which I adored. I ran with those few elements and created Love is for the Living.

Voila. Steampunk short story.

The more I write, the better my short stories and storytelling abilities become. I’m thrilled with the number of stories that have been published this year already! Plus, I’m writing a new story or two every month, in addition to four novels and a nonfiction book. Ideas are precious. Inspiration is, at times, fleeting, but it always returns in some form or another. That is the beginning of creating something beautiful or horrible or heart-wrenching. That is the beginning of art.

***

The Steampunk and Horror genres are masterfully combined in the twelve stories contained within Bellows of the Bone Box. Each of the authors has transported you to an age where steam is the dominate means of power and has woven a tale that will fascinate, or possibly scandalize you.

In this volume, you will find clockworks, pneumatic tubes, airships, and leather worn out of necessity – not vanity. Can an engine be powered by human blood; should it be? What about body modification; what happens when the mechanical meets the biological and goes awry? Does the heart rule the machine, or does the machine consume the humanity that once existed within it? What of airships, regeneration, or hallucination; is it safe to trifle with such things? Should technology that can rift time and dimensions be researched; and if that research proves fruitful, should it ever see the light of day?

Packed full of intrigue, imagination, and horror, lovers of Steampunk will have a hard time deciding which of the twelve is their favorite!

Featuring the talents of:

Brad Bass, Paul Boulet, Laura Brown, Vivian Caethe, Alex Chase, Megan Dorei, O.M. Grey, Tarl Hoch, Gavin Ireland, Kirk Jones, Kate Monroe and Christofer Nigro

Available on:

Amazon US, Amazon UK, Amazon CDN, CreateSpace, Smashwords

***

The following is an excerpt from O.M.’s Love is for the Living in Bellows of the Bone Box -

Timo exhaled, watching the thick smoke drift from his parted lips and curl past his half-closed eyes until it mingled with the heavy cloud suspended just above all their heads. The periodic sound of coughing filled the otherwise quiet den, which was just the way Timo liked it as it left him with his thoughts. Ironic, since he came here to escape them, but once the opium took hold of his faculties, his thoughts became less troublesome and much more pleasant. Little else satisfied him as much as the feeling of the smoke entering his lungs, knowing that a sense of peace would soon follow, and then she would be with him again. His lips held the pipe which in turn held the magical black pea. The only thing he would rather have on his lips were hers.

But that was impossible.

Timo blinked back the tears and motioned to the young Chinese girl who had seemed to take a fancy to him, and her favors did not escape his notice. Ever since he first started coming to Master Guo’s Opium Den shortly after Heather’s death, Mai-Lien had paid him special attention, likely because he was kind to her. He treated her like a woman, not a servant. He had observed with some disgust how others would treat her and make jokes about her skin tone or the shape of her eyes, and Timo found such jesting intolerable. Under normal circumstances he would have defended the lady’s honor, but as of late, his energy had dwindled to the point where even breathing seemed to take too much effort.

“Yes, Mister Timo,” she said with downcast eyes.

“Another pea, Mai-Lien. That’s such a beautiful name,” he slurred. “What does it mean?”

“Beautiful lotus.” A blush rose to Mai-Lien’s cheeks. She kept her eyes away from meeting his by focusing on her red silk slippers that matched the gold-trimmed hanfu. Intricate braids held her long, black hair close to her head. Only two loose strands, one over each shoulder, fell onto the gold-embroidered silk.

“May I have another of your magical peas, my beautiful lotus?” Timo held out a fistful of coins toward Mai-Lien.

She made a quick movement like a curtsey and apologized, “So sorry, Mister Timo, but you already have three today. Three is limit, sir.”

“Since when?”

“The opium make you do strange things. I concern for you, Mister Timo. Please just sleep, sir.”

“Sleep? There is plenty of time for sleep later.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, but she did not reach toward the silver tray full of opium peas.

“Have you ever been in love, Mai-Lien?”

Her eyes fluttered up and met his for the briefest moment, and he saw the heat therein, the desire he had seen in her before…

Come back tomorrow for another inspiration post from one of the authors in Bellows of the Bone Box!

Christofer Nigro is a life-long fan of the horror, sci-fi, fantasy, and pulp fiction genres, and has several websites on these topics, as well as others dealing in the interrelated realms of politics, sociology, and theology. He has short stories published in several anthologies dealing with the above genres, including three to date from Black Coat Press (TALES OF THE SHADOWMEN Volumes 8 & 9, and NIGHT OF THE NYCTALOPE); two to date from Sirens Call Publications (CARNAGE: AFTER THE END Volume 1 along with this anthology), as well as flash fiction in the October 2012 issue of The Sirens Call eZine; one to date from Scarlett River Press (RIGOROUS MORTIS: A MORTICIAN’S TALES); one to date from Pulp Empire (ALIENS AMONG US Volume 1); and one to date from Angelic Knights Press (NO PLACE LIKE HOME: TALES FROM A FRACTURED FUTURE). He is presently feverishly at work on a novel in the super-hero genre, CENTURION, which will be published by Metahuman Press. Christofer can be found online on Twitter at @ChristoferNigro, on his blog at thenorseking.wordpress.com. Christofer also maintains three websites at http://angelfire.com/ego/g_saga, http://angelfire.com/zine3/warrenverse, and http://monstaah.angelfire.com.

What Steampunk Means to Me

I have just recently become acquainted with the steampunk phenomenon, which appears to be a culturally specific movement and sense of aesthetics similar in influence to the Goths of a decade previous. However, steampunk has quite a different visual appeal than the Goth aesthetic, as it harkens back to the specific preferences of the mid-19^th century. This includes an overriding fascination not only with the type of experimental technology that was developed during the Victorian era – based upon the power of steam and engineering theories surrounding pneumatic tubing – but also with the specific look and design of that technology. The 19^th century aesthetic for the rapidly developing machinery that led to the full realization of the Industrial Revolution had a great interest in how the technology worked, not simply contentedness with the fact that it worked. Machinery of all kinds were developed with their interior design visible so that owners and users could actually see the mechanisms that allowed that technology to operate as it did. This included a plethora of turning cogs and moving parts, which the 19^th century eye found amazing to look at. The dominant lack of interest in how the inner workings of an SUV, a computer, a cell phone, or a Blu-ray player operate or look like that is prevalent with the average consumer of today is a far cry from the aesthetic appeal of Victorian technology to the dominant mindset of that era’s people.

Just as the purveyors of the Goth movement favored black garments and sometimes colorful make-up, the steampunkers (if that’s not a word, it should be) are fond of leather attire and aviation goggles. These were seen as necessary accoutrements for the 19^th century technological pioneers, since a paramount interest of that time was the conquest of the sky. Dirigibles – or “airships” as they were then known – were believed to be the wave of the future, and experiments along those lines abounded, as did their more successful (and often more ominous) fictional counterparts in the emerging sci-fi genre of the era. Likely the best examples for this were the work of Jules Verne, particularly his connected novels Robur the Conqueror and Master of the World. Many scientific beliefs proliferated during that time which have since been discarded from mainstream scientific consideration, such as the idea of a fluidic but mostly invisible substance called “ether” permeating the atmosphere and serving as a potential fuel source for air travel. Another heavy influence on my story was the steampunk novel The Difference Engine by William Gibson.

I was also influenced by much Victorian literature in general, and I often wondered what the criminal, political, economic, and religious scenes would be like across the world of the late 19^th century, but especially in London amidst a heavily “steampunked” reality. My story attempts to explore how this plethora of advanced technology would have made all of these major societal aspects differ from the reality recorded in our history books.

Basically, that is what steampunk is to me: An in-depth exploration of a world that might have been, and what it may have meant for the world if it happened. It also means a full exploration of an era-specific aesthetic that has found a curious and major resurgence in a much different world, and the continuation of the legacy it established in both literature and pop culture.

***

The Steampunk and Horror genres are masterfully combined in the twelve stories contained within Bellows of the Bone Box. Each of the authors has transported you to an age where steam is the dominate means of power and has woven a tale that will fascinate, or possibly scandalize you.

In this volume, you will find clockworks, pneumatic tubes, airships, and leather worn out of necessity – not vanity. Can an engine be powered by human blood; should it be? What about body modification; what happens when the mechanical meets the biological and goes awry? Does the heart rule the machine, or does the machine consume the humanity that once existed within it? What of airships, regeneration, or hallucination; is it safe to trifle with such things? Should technology that can rift time and dimensions be researched; and if that research proves fruitful, should it ever see the light of day?

Packed full of intrigue, imagination, and horror, lovers of Steampunk will have a hard time deciding which of the twelve is their favorite!

Featuring the talents of:

Brad Bass, Paul Boulet, Laura Brown, Vivian Caethe, Alex Chase, Megan Dorei, O.M. Grey, Tarl Hoch, Gavin Ireland, Kirk Jones, Kate Monroe and Christofer Nigro

Available on:

Amazon US, Amazon UK, Amazon CDN, CreateSpace, Smashwords

***

Here is a snippet of Christofer’s Rip Me A New One, Jack! from Bellows of the Bone Box -

Inspector Clive Aberline wasn’t exactly happy with the fact that Scotland Yard insisted he call in the services of freelance sleuth Andre Dupin to deal with the case at hand, but his superiors insisted that the nightmarishly grim circumstances made it imperative. Aberline had to accept the fact that catching the lunatic responsible for the ghastly series of murders plaguing the Whitechapel area of New London was of paramount importance, and as such, matters of pride and intolerance had to be put aside for the greater good. This great city of London, filled with tall spires and hovering dirigibles that decorated the skyline, had few members of ‘polite’ society who cared about the fate of the ‘ladies of the night’, which made it all the more important that those who did care put every effort into catching the nefarious Ripper.

Aberline looked down at the butchered remains of a middle-aged working lady strewn across the width of a small alley.  Despite all he had dealt with in his 22 years in service to the law, he had to force himself not to visibly cringe in the presence of Andre Dupin, a man whose help he desperately needed despite loathing the mere thought of his existence. He must tolerate the man for the good of the victims, he kept reminding himself.

Dupin walked up to where Aberline was standing, laid a hand on his shoulder, and looked down at the gruesome remains before them.

“It would appear that ghastly fellow literally ripped this poor toffer a new one, eh?” the younger detective flippantly observed.

Aberline smacked the man’s hand off his shoulder, and shoved him hard. “I am not amused by what passes for a sense of levity from you, Dupin. Show some respect to this woman, considering the trials she doubtlessly endured in her line of work, and particularly the nightmare her final moments on this world must have constituted.”

“Don’t be so grim, old crusher. Your decades with the Yard seem to have made you cynical in your advancing age. Do not let my glib remarks cause you to doubt the sincerity of my intentions, nor mistake my way of dealing with the horrors we experience in our esteemed vocations as disrespect for the victims of this madman.”

“Maybe I don’t like your way of handling these horrors, Dupin. If not for your distinguished reputation and lineage in the solving of crimes, I would not abide your presence in my midst for even a second.  Unless you have missed what is regularly said about you and your social antics on the Inter-Analytic Webstream, you would see that many are inclined to agree with my assessment of your character.”

“You need to put less veracity on what those mindless wankers on the Inter-Analytic Webstream tend to say, old chap. Their comments are nothing less than a cesspool of invective about any given subject, or any particular individual…

Come back tomorrow for another engaging post from one of the authors in Bellows of the Bone Box!