Are you a fan of urban legends?
Sirens Call Publications has recently released Legends of Urban Horror: A Friend of a Friend Told Me and as a special treat for each of you, we’ve asked the authors to provide us with a few words on the inspirations to their tales. Today we are joined by Jon Olson who contributed his story Marrow to this anthology of ten fantastically chilling stories.
Jon works as a Pre Board Screening Checkpoint Coordinator at Halifax Robert L Stanfield International Airport. When he is not working or writing, he can be found at his home in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia with his wife and their four cats. You can connect with Jon on Twitter, Facebook, or his blog.
And now for Jon’s inspiration…
The Inspiration Behind Marrow
I’m a big fan of monsters and creatures so I wanted to write a story that included my experiences working in the woods as a Harvesting Assistant. Initially Marrow was going to be a story about Sasquatch harassing the harvesters, but the more and more I wrote. I found that I couldn’t find a logical reason why he would attack. I played around with his home or habitat being threatened but that seemed corny. Plus it felt like it had been done many times before. I then changed it to a werewolf, but again I felt as if I couldn’t bring anything new to the table in regards to the shape shifters. It wasn’t until I watched Alien 3 and noticed the Alien moved with a certain jerkiness, thanks to some bad special effects, that I started to formulate the image of a new kind of creature.
When I started to create what I unofficially called the Marrower, I knew that I wanted it to have a specific reason for killing. I thought about how vampires feed on blood and I tried to think of what would be even more gruesome. What if this thing lived off of bone marrow? With its hunger in place, I designed the creature around what it would need in order to subdue its prey and also what it would need in order to extract the marrow. I realized though that the creature would need to have a weakness or flaw of some kind. It couldn’t just be this unstoppable force so I decided to make it blind and rely on its sense of smell above all else.
I finished the story and it just kind of sat around. I hadn’t been actively looking to be published although I had self-published a few short stories on Smashwords. When I saw the submissions page for Legends of Urban Horror: A Friend of a Friend Told Me, I knew that the story had the chance to find a home. I dug it out and began to edit it with a number of my coworkers proofreading for me. When I felt it was the final product I submitted it. Luckily it was selected and I am very happy with the finished product.
Legends of Urban Horror: A Friend of a Friend Told Me
We’ve all come across them. The warnings told by a friend of a friend – don’t go in there, I wouldn’t if I were you, did you hear about…? Or perhaps your mind leaps to the cryptozoological realm – creatures barely glimpsed, and yet to be identified. Other spheres of existence – they can’t be real… certainly not until you’ve experienced one!
Maybe the real horror lies in the minds and hearts of others just like you. People with a slightly bent perspective that feed on the fear in others. Twisted souls that would take advantage of the weak, or vulnerable. Those who believe they are doing good for a higher power, or to gain power simply for themselves. Petty vengeance that breathes a life of its own once unleashed.
Whatever your poison, the ten stories in Legends of Urban Horror: A Friend of a Friend Told Me are sure to intrigue, and perhaps bring back fears long forgotten.
Run, don’t look back… or should you?
Contributing Authors include:
Morgan Bauman, Kimberly A, Bettes, Matthew Borgard, Alex Chase, Austin Fikac, K. Trap Jones, Sean Keller, Lisamarie Lamb, Jon Olson, C.M. Saunders
Interested in Purchasing a copy?
And now for a quick excerpt from Jon’s story Marrow in Legends of Urban Horror: A Friend of a Friend Told Me…
Tony Barrymore took a long drag off of his cigarette, inhaled deeply and gently exhaled, letting the smoke escape from his slightly parted lips. He looked down at his work boots but really wasn’t looking at anything in particular. Mentally he was still waking up, and to help he took a sip of the coffee that he held in the same hand as his cigarette. He always thought that the coffee made in the kitchen of the Triple L Lumber Company Camp 4 tasted like shit but seeing that they were almost an hour away from the nearest paved road, a Tim Horton’s was most definitely out of the question.
He glanced down at his watch and let out a heavy sigh. It was a quarter past five and he knew it was time to get on the road if he was going to be at the logging site on time. He took one final drag off of the cigarette and dropped it to the gravel driveway, then stomped it out. He walked over to his Ford Ranger, opened the door and pulled himself inside. After placing his coffee in the only cup holder that wasn’t full of coins, he turned the key and the engine came to life.
As he drove out of the driveway and onto the logging road, he looked in his rearview mirror at Camp 4. It was essentially five mobile home trailers that had been converted into sleeping quarters. Each trailer housed six men and had a small recreational area that consisted of a television, a closet full of old board games and decks of cards. Alcohol was not permitted on Triple L owned land and so outside of smoking, the majority of the workers just slept. Also, there was one doublewide trailer that had been converted into a cafeteria. The cook for Camp 4 was a decent man, but unfortunately, he severely lacked imagination in the kitchen. He had a routine and nothing messed with that man and his routine.
Despite the remote location of the camp they had great cell phone coverage. While shifting his eyes from the road to his phone and back, Tony dialed Gordon Norwood’s number. It rang twice.
“Hello?” a voice yelled over a deafening heavy engine.
“Gordie! How’s it going?” Tony asked.
“Not too bad. We had a little problem with a protester this morning but other than that it’s been clear sailing.”
Tony shook his head. “Why don’t they just fuck off?”
“Beats me, young buck. The guy really wasn’t protesting as much as he was pleading. They don’t want us cutting up here for some reason. I don’t get it though; it’s nowhere near the land they have designated as sacred. I don’t know. Maybe they’re just exercising their right to protest.”
“Just because you have a right to do something, it doesn’t always mean you should.” Tony said…
Thank you for tuning in!