Miracleman v.2 notes pt.III

The final part of my short series of thoughts on Alan Moore's Miracleman: The Red King Syndrome. Enjoy.


- Chapter 11: Scenes from the Nativity
o I believe this was my introduction to Rick Veitch, and at the time, I wasn’t that impressed. His work isn’t as refined as other artists, but I’ve grown to appreciate his work, and am a fan of the fluidity and naturalness that is part of his art. So glad to have him after Beckum/Austen. And that said, despite my misgivings on my initial reading twenty years ago, I did love that title page with Miracleman as Christ. That was just a beautiful image.
o PAGE 1: I really like the bottom tier where Liz is waking up, calling for Mike, we get the flashback to the “Miracledog” confronting Mike bathed in red, and then the other side of Liz’s face, terror etched there. Nice transition and great use of the comic page.
o Love the use of the jeep to transport Liz. It continues to keep the story grounded while also giving readers something they’ve never seen before, and it offers Liz a moment of pure joy after her experience in Paraguay with Gargunza.
o INTERLUDE: Who the heck are these guys. And, love the use of the Jedi mind trick.
o PAGE 10: Kid Miracleman’s ability to hide from these aliens as they peer into Bates’s mind foreshadows what is coming. He’s too powerful to remain stuck inside Johnny’s mind for much longer.
o Moore’s prose and Veitch’s artwork really capture what it’s like to be at the birth of one’s child. And to have this published in 1986 was groundbreaking (as foolish as it sounds).
o I really like how the voice over puts into perspective the smallness of Gargunza and his aims compared to the miracle that is life. (May sound corny, but it was true all three times I experienced the births of my sons)
o The small touches, as with most of Moore’s work, really elevate this story – in particular, the part where Miracleman says he uses his thumb nail to snip the umbilical cord.
o And – “Ma-ma.” What a great way to end the issue. Moore has lain the groundwork for this revelation (particularly with the opening of this issue) and soon we’ll get to see what it means to be the child of a superhero in this “reality.”

- Chapter 12: Bodies
o PAGE 1: The aliens are back, and they mention – for the first time – a female “Miracle” companion, whose hand is evident in the bottom left panel, and whose foot is seen at the top of the next page.
• I like how Moore includes the cat hunting the pigeons in the background as a symbol for these aliens as they prepare to hunt Miracleman and the other “Miracle” family members.
o PAGE 2: Whoa! This is bigger than we readers first thought. How many “change-bodies” are there?
• We can see Mike Moran in the middle, Dicky Dauntless obviously in the lower left, Johnny Bates in the lower right, the “Miracledog” just off panel upper left, and Miraclewoman just off panel upper right, though it may not be completely obvious yet.
o “Let us eat.” set next to the pigeon carcass is typical Moore, except that it doesn’t really add to the narrative like the meticulous work in Watchmen.
o PAGES 6-7: Kid Miracleman is unnerving. Not only does he have no problem throwing epithets at his younger self, but he’s happy that Johnny has shown the hospital that he is conscious. Why? It can’t be good.
o PAGES 8-9: I like how this and the previous two-page spread are laid out symmetrically. Reading through this spread, we can see that Winter is doing math with the rings hanging over her crib. And it appears she understands what her mother is saying when she is telling Mike that she feels depressed now that she has given birth and no longer has her baby insider her, at which point, Winter apparently makes her mother feel better. How? We don’t know. Could she be more powerful than her father?
• Foreshadowing: note that when Mike tells Liz that “Nothing will ever come between us,” he is holding hands with Liz, but in the middle of the picture below their hands is Winter’s hand. She – or at least the “Miracle” aspects of Mike and she – will come between Mike and Liz.
o PAGE 11: “Kim who?” That would be “Kimota,” and Miraclewoman is now in the picture, though we do not see her in this book, only the destruction in her wake as she flees these aliens. Which means, they must be pretty powerful, if we consider Miraclewoman to be on par with MM.
o And if we had any thought that Winter might be a tad “normal” the fact that at a week old she is eating solid food and has teeth should be the final clues readers need.

- CAN’T WAIT FOR BOOK 3!

In Search Of . . . pt. IV

“Soup again?” Tim slouched in his chair as he tossed his stained cap onto the sideboard. He’d just come in off the fishing boat and the smell of the sea was strong on him.

“Not anymore!” Karen Kaczmerak stood up from the table, knocking her chair to the floor, and seized both her bowl and Tim’s. Walking to the back door, she kicked it open – squeaking on its old hinges – and dumped their supper into the refuse bin.

“Jesus, don’t be like that. I was hungry.”

“Could’ve surprised me. You cook tomorrow.” Karen dropped the bowls into the sink as she passed through the kitchen marching for the bedroom at the far end of the trailer. Wiping his sleeve across his face, Tim got up from the table and went after Karen, his long strides closing the gap down the narrow hall.

“Will you come back here? What the hell’s wrong?” Tim caught his girlfriend just as she stepped into the bedroom.

Karen didn’t even look back. “Fuck off.”

“No!” Tim grabbed Karen by her right shoulder.

“Ow!” Karen pulled her arm away.

Tim’s eyes widened. “What happened to your arm?”

“It hurts, dipshit.”

Tim, stuck between anger and confusion, kicked the wall. “Fucking aye! What the Hell’d I do?”

“If you don’t know, I can’t help,” said Karen as she backed into their bedroom sliding the door out from its recess in the wall.

“What can I do so you aren’t so fuckin’ mad?”

“You could start by listening, but I’m not sure that’s even possible.” Karen slammed the door shut and turned the lock. Tim paced in a tiny circle for half a minute before pounding his fist against the bedroom door. Waiting for a response, he stomped back up the hallway when none was forthcoming.

•••

Tim Suffolk first laid eyes on Karen in the local diner. She arrived in South Harbor in the early evening, slim and young; the way her blond hair fell around her shoulders sent a shudder through Tim’s midsection. The fact that she had reciprocated his furtive looks that night was a surprise. Though by no means an ugly man, Tim knew his receding hairline and weary face were not generally appealing to the fairer sex. They’d ended up getting dessert together, and when Tim discovered Karen was alone with nowhere to stay, he was more than willing to put her up for the night.

That night stretched into weeks, and for the most part, Tim had been nothing but happy. But recently Karen had changed. She didn’t smile like she had at first, and she seemed restless. Tim had tried to infiltrate her stern façade, but no explanations had been shared. So, Tim just went about his normal business hoping it would work itself out.

•••

The digital clock read 1:43 am. Outside, the chime of the buoy helped bring Tim out of his slumber. He rubbed at his neck, stiff from falling asleep in the recliner. Slivers of moonlight slit the blinds, giving form to the shadows. There were soft footsteps in the kitchen. Turning, he watched Karen go to the fridge and pull out the pitcher of water. Lifting it to her lips, she took a long swallow and then returned it to its shelf. Closing the door, she walked back down the hall without giving him a look.

Tim strained to hear the lock click in the door as Karen shut it, but the only sound that came was that of the mattress springs yielding as she lay back down. With little deliberation, Tim got up from the chair and walked down the hallway himself, trying not to make a sound as he entered the bedroom.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he could see Karen lying on her side turned away from where he stood in the doorway. She gave no indication she knew he was there. He pulled the covers back and slid in next to her.

Adjusting the sheets so that they fell over his back, Tim lay there waiting for Karen to say something.

But she remained silent.

Tim watched as two minutes passed on the clock, and then deemed it safe to move closer. Nudging up against Karen, he draped one arm over her shoulder and she jumped, biting back the pain before taking Tim’s hand and moving his arm down to her waist.

“Shit. Sorry,” whispered Tim, afraid of breaking the silence encompassing them.

“It’s okay,” said Karen. “I’m sorry for earlier.

“I’ve just been uneasy.”

“What’s the matter?” asked Tim as he propped himself up on his other arm.

“Thinking about home . . . Dad . . . what he did . . . to me . . . to Cedric.” Karen started to cry into her pillow. Tim tried to roll her over, but Karen refused, pushing his hand away.

For a long minute Tim stared down at Karen wondering what she’d gone through and what he could do to get her to stop crying. Finally, he laid his head on Karen’s pillow and whispered into her ear, “Tell me about it.

“I’ll listen.”

To be continued . . .

Miracleman v.2 notes pt.II

Here's the middle third of my notes (covering, not surprisingly, the middle third of this tale, the middle third of Moore's overall narrative). Read along at home; it will probably make more sense.


- Chapter 4: The Approaching Light –
o This chapter is all about waking or wakefulness:
• Title: “The Approaching Light” which can signify the dawn, the waking of the day, time to wake up.
• Evelyn Cream’s inability to sleep because of what he can see “coming down the track.” He’s unsure of what might happen with Moran’s wife having been taken by Gargunza. It is unsettling.
• Gargunza’s inability to sleep because of what he saw in the fiber cameras while observing the fetus in Liz’s womb.
• The “waking” to consciousness of the fetus, when it opens its eyes and stares into the camera, right into Gargunza’s eyes.
• The “waking” of the “monster,” i.e. Miracleman. Now that he knows who has Liz, he is ready to kill.
o Although not as subtle as some of his later work, I like how Moore juxtaposes the two narratives in this chapter, playing them off each other to show the parallels between what is happening with Miracleman and what is happening with Gargunza. It also highlights the father/son relationship between these two, and the new father/son relationship that Gargunza hopes to achieve through MM’s baby.
o Alan Davis’s art really shines here. He gives Liz a disturbing, yet appropriate, vacant look while creating this Adonis-like being in the ungarbed Miracleman.
o The unease that Cream is having with the situation – manifested in his sarcastic remarks about what he is doing, following this white god – feels very real. He is torn between befriending MM for his own goals, while feeling that following this “unbermensch” is nothing but a huge step back with regard to how far Africans have come at this point. It makes Cream a more real character, and one for which I have more sympathy.
o It should be obvious now that the calm Liz is feeling through this whole ordeal – a calm we hadn’t seen before – is a byproduct of the superhuman gestating in her belly. If we allow ourselves to consider the full ramifications of this, it is overwhelming.

- Chapter 5: I Heard Woodrow Wilson’s Guns
o Alan Davis’s work, particularly the subtle emotion on the faces, is fantastic in this chapter. Of particular note – Gargunza’s face on the final panel (with the title heading) of the first page, and page 2, panel 3 of this chapter, after Liz Moran tells him she wants to hear his story.
o Moore’s use of a “talking heads” chapter works well to punctuate the climax of this part of the story. It’s a very quiet, slow narrative, and with the final page-turn we are given a big piece of the puzzle, and the full page image is used nicely in contrast to the quiet, multi-panel pages that preceded it.
o Gargunza’s description of Hitler is a very human, and more realistic characterization – especially from a person like Gargunza – than we usually see. A mature writing choice on Moore’s part.

- Chapter 6: A Little Piece of Heaven
o Moore’s writing combined with Davis’s art manage to create something that feels alien, unlike a lot of traditional science fiction, which – for whatever reasons – give us human looking aliens in unimaginative spaceships.
o This chapter is layered with multiple “fire/burning” symbols (Icarus and Prometheus are both mentioned, and we watch as a moth is lured to its death in a flame on Gargunza’s porch). Maybe a bit overdone, but combined with Gargunza’s tale of how he created the Marvel family (and you can almost hear the glee in his voice, which is accentuated again by Alan Davis’s brilliant visuals on the final page of this chapter), we can see that his creation of the Marvel family, meant to be his chance at immortality, is being foreshadowed as that which will bring his downfall.
o I like the way Moore throws in the true inspiration for the Marvelman/Miracleman comic through Gargunza’s realization of how to manipulate these beings when he sees a Captain Marvel comic.
o And, keep an eye on the pooch in Gargunza’s lap.
o Who are Rebbeck and Lear?

- Chapter 7: …And Every Dog Its Day
o Abraxas – Beautiful storytelling. The first time you read this, you don’t see that coming. But when it happens, it does not feel forced at all. And now, what the hell will Mike Moran do?
o Miracledog – Another brilliant page-turn, and the ante is upped once more
o AND CONSIDER, this is the point where Marvelman’s publication in Warrior magazine was discontinued. Anyone who was reading this in Warrior, had to wait five years to find out what the hell happened.

- Chapter 8: All Heads Turn as the Hunt Goes By
o Chuck Beckum (Austen) art. The only blemish on this entire series.
o The 3-minute headstart is another problem – one I’d forgotten about until re-reading. It’s typical supervillain fare, but for a character that has been well fleshed out by Moore – and shown to be highly intelligent – this just seems out of place. It certainly makes for a more dramatic narrative, but isn’t true to the character, I don’t think.
o Having Cream narrate this chapter is interesting, and obviously Moore is playing with comics as a visual medium (controlling what we, the reader, can see) in order to give us a surprise twist. But, having grounded so much of this story in “reality,” the final eye movement to look down and see that he is now a severed head, did not work for me.
o I like the way Cream takes charge now that Miracleman is not around, and the way he talks to Moran when he is feeling pity for his predicament rang very true.
o I also appreciated Cream’s internal monologue remarking how the pursuit of the “white miracle” he and his ancestors have sought isn’t a pursuit of whiteness, but a pursuit of death.
o And the final page: “It spits. Spits blood and sapphires.” Brilliant.

- Chapter 9: Bodies
o The resolution to the Miracledog issue is, again, simple in its execution, but unlike earlier points in this story, it almost feels too simple.
o Moran’s dispatching of the little dog once it changes back is a bit of foreshadowing – though whether intentional or not, I don’t know.
o And again, consider that this was written just around the time that Watchmen was coming out. Moran killing that dog in cold blood was something not typically encountered in comic books. Heroes were supposed to have higher ideals, not take the path of least resistance. This was another signal that this was a different kind of superhero comic, and Moore was a different type of writer.

- Chapter 10: The Wish I Wish Tonight
o Chuck Beckum’s art is so static. It adds nothing to the story, and takes away from the impact of this climax, especially considering how spoiled we, as readers, had become after having Garry Leach and Alan Davis prior.
o Moore’s prose gives us another look into the psyche of Miracleman/Marvelman. His monologue on the brittle trees and paper world really hit home his reality, while the red jewels crawling down his arms and across his face give us insight into how he is reveling in the killing spree upon which he’s embarked.
o And when Marvelman/Miracleman goes on about the scale on which he exists, it’s a nice piece of writing that accentuates his reality as a god on earth.

In Search Of . . . pt. III

Keenan Archer stared out the windows as they flew over the thick green expanse below. It was a stark contrast to the scorched earth that had greeted them as they’d come in off the Atlantic five minutes prior. Flying as low as they were made it seem as if this new verdant area went on forever. He shifted in his seat and leaned forward to the pilot.

“How much longer ‘til we’re there?” he asked.

The pilot didn’t turn, but grunted his reply, “You’ll know.”

Keenan leaned back in his seat. His hard features tightened as dark blue eyes turned to slits; he didn’t like being in the dark. Running his fingers through the short bristles atop his head, Keenan returned his gaze to the treetops skimming by below him.

•••

It was only a few minutes before a large cut in the trees became visible. A huge mansion rose from the middle of the clearing, which appeared to have no exit routes spoking off from the residence.

The sleek chopper set down easily, and Keenan pulled open the door and stepped out. A tiny lump clenched in his gut. He tried to ignore it as the chopper rose into the air, leaving him in the middle of a wide lawn.

Keenan surveyed his surroundings. There was a lot of money here. The ornate lintel above the front doorway, the delicate woodwork framing the many windows, and the meticulously trimmed hedges illustrated that. But the guards standing behind the tall shrubs at either corner, as well as the four stationed on the roof, told Keenan all he needed to know.

Satisfied, he proceeded up the small incline toward the marble steps.

•••

“You do understand. You will do this.” The old man wheezed as he steadied himself against the banister. The stilted movements of Elijah Kaczmerak were subtle, most people wouldn’t have noticed. The old man was wearing a sophisticated exo-skeleton under his finely pressed suit.

Keenan had been going back and forth with Kaczmerak for twenty minutes now, and they seemed no closer to a resolution than when he’d first entered. The only commodity worth trafficking in was information, but the old man refused to give an inch.

Kaczmerak wanted his daughter found, but had no idea where she would have gone. Keenan had prodded him for anything that could help – hobbies, friends, online avatars, strange behavior, family history – and Kaczmerak clipped off any discussion as if he were hiding some thorny secret. And that knot in the pit of Keenan’s stomach continued to throb lightly as he worked to remain focused on the withered face before him.

“Listen. Mr. Kaczmerak. If you’re unwilling to give me some shred of information, I’m not sure how I can be of service to you. It’s really as simple as that.” Keenan could hear the frustration rising in his voice and silently criticized himself for starting to lose control.

“Young man. I cannot see how trivial incidents in my daughter’s past might assist in discovering her current whereabouts. She has grown past any indiscretions of her tender years and you would do well not to probe any further.

“I do not think you realize with whom you are dealing.” Despite his obvious ill health, Elijah Kaczmerak spit out these final words with such venom that Keenan was momentarily taken aback.

“Now,” continued the old man, “I do have something of which you might be interested, if you can get past your affinity for tangential matters.” The old man’s eyes narrowed as he stared down the investigator.

“When my daughter was eleven she took ill – the details are unimportant – and she was rushed to the nearest hospital. It was necessary for her to undergo surgery, and I arranged for the doctor to implant her with a microchip, the better to keep track of her. I wasn’t sure I would ever need it, but felt it prudent to take such a precaution. I will share the frequency with you.

“But in doing so, you must understand that you will be agreeing to a contract that can only end one of two ways. I would suggest option A, which would be to return my daughter here. To me.” The menace in Kaczmerak’s voice was laced with a derision that Keenan had rarely encountered.

“And just to make sure you do not feel I am treating you wrongly . . .” Elijah Kaczmerak snapped his fingers and Gregory stepped into the atrium. The old man turned to his butler, who nodded subtly and told his employer, “It has been taken care of, sir.”

“Good,” rasped the old man. Turning back to Keenan, as Gregory softly removed himself, Elijah told the investigator to “check your account.”

Keenan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his PalmCard. Tapping the screen, he accessed his professional account and saw the balance to be a million creds heavier than he remembered.

“Consider that a retainer,” said Kaczmerak. “I will also pay double your daily fee, plus all expenses.

“Just make sure you bring my girl home.”

Keenan’s head raced with questions – why hadn’t the old man offered the microchip information earlier being foremost – but instead he allowed himself a broad smile and told Kaczmerak, “It looks like we have a deal.”

To be continued . . .

What I'm reading right now

When the movie adaptation for Contact came out, there was no doubt I'd be there. Jodie Foster had a string of amazing roles to her credit at that point, and I was a science fiction junkie. What could be better than a movie positing the reality of extraterrestrial life from one of the preeminent scientists of the last century, Carl Sagan? and I was not disappointed.

Finally, years later, I am reading the novel upon which that movie was based. And it's great. Sagan's prose, though not on a par with wordsmiths like Chabon or Bradbury, flows wonderfully and he manages to infuse the hard science in such a way that you don't feel lost. Dr. Arroway (the Jodie Foster character) is a fittingly strong female character and the realities of such an e.t. contact are offered up by Sagan, thwarting the xenophobic nature of many that have probably read it. And Sagan includes a throwaway line about a reality TV channel/group that probably seemed confusing when first published in 1985 but resonates so much more today.

I'm not really sure if the ramblings above make any sense - I could feel my brain jumping around - but if you get nothing else from this post, Contact by Carl Sagan is an enjoyable read (at least to the point I am currently at).

chris

Miracleman v.2 notes pt.I

So,

One of my favorite podcasts is the CGS (Comic Geek Speak) one. Mainly a mainstream comic-cast, it delves into indie and classic comics and has provided interviews with a multitude of great artists and writers. Well, thanks to one of their listeners, they are finally tackling one of my all-time favorite comics, Miracleman (originally Marvelman). Their first episode, covering the first trade collection, ran in late December, and the plan was to follow with each subsequent collection roughly every two months. In preparation for this, I pulled down my second MM trade - The Red King Syndrome - and re-read it, jotting down notes for each chapter. I offered them up at the CGS forums, and now I offer them here for posterity (or until we decide to let the domain name lapse, which isn't happening any time soon).

the notes became copious, so I'll be splitting them up into three posts, roughly 1000 words apiece. Here, for your reading pleasure, is part one. Enjoy:

- Prelude: Red King Syndrome pt.1
o Did they use John Ridgway because Alan Davis needed to catch up? Whether yes or no, having a different artist for this flashback works well to separate from the story proper, while giving us some background.
o I love Gargunza’s characterization. He’s a genius – smug and unable to suffer fools, even if those fools are working with him.
o Interesting concept of having Mickey Moran heap bizarre and far-fetched ideas on top of one another to shock his brain out of the dream-sleep they have been subject to.

- Chapter 1: Catgames –
o I like how Moore uses the metaphor of the leopard to accentuate the main thrust of the narrative, which reintroduces us to all of the main characters
o Though this really is a chapter in which Moore is catching readers up to speed with the various characters, it doesn’t fall into the expositional pitfalls so many other comics seem to.
o Liz and Mike’s argument foreshadows what comes later in this book. Her remark that Mike changing to Miracleman in order to continue the conversation is “running away” helps to accentuate the reality of his character, and is an interesting – and, if not new, at least little used trope – of the “secret identity.”
o Sir Dennis’s idea of how Miracleman must think of “us,” of humans is novel, especially for this time, and will be played out in Moore’s story. A nice bit of foreshadowing – only one panel – that may not resonate on a first read, but has far more resonance upon re-reading. It also reiterates the point made by Liz two pages prior, regarding Mike’s vulnerability and the vast difference between his two alter-egos.
o Johnny Bates and Kid Miracleman within Johnny’s mind is a great bit of character play – well conceived artistically, as well – and sets up the possibility of KM returning. Again, Moore laying the groundwork for what is to come.
o The caption boxes once Mike Moran changes to Miracleman is Moore being flowery, unlike some of the prose from the first volume, this adds little and feels a bit over-wrought.
o Final page of this chapter: what the hell took out that leopard? We’ll find out soon.

- Chapter 2: One of Those Quiet Moments –
o I really enjoyed this 6-page chapter. It gives us a bit more characterization of Miracleman/Mike Moran (he revels in showing off his strength to Jason, showing that Mike is still within the mind of MM).
o The remarks about “gays” and “fairies” firmly ground it in its time – the early eighties – and feel out of place in our more educated, PC world. But they do capture the feelings of a large sector of the population at the time, and it doesn’t feel so much prejudicial as ill-advised or statements made from a lack of education/experience, which certainly does not feel out of place for a story written in 1982-83.
o I really like how Moore utilized the quiet/innocent interaction between MM and Jason to accentuate that final page. It really gives more weight to what MM finds back home than if the entire chapter had revolved around his Liz’s abduction. This way, the reader is also in MM’s shoes – we don’t know what has happened to her any more than he does. Really adds tension.
o Neil Gaiman wrote a short story that played off the event of this one (the first 5 pages), which basically was he and Mark Buckingham’s “tryout” before taking over the title after Moore was finished.

- Chapter 3: Nightmares –
o Page 2, as Liz is waking up and we get the various computer readouts of her body is impressive from an artistic standpoint, and these, with the voiceover captions, keeps the mystery alive of where she is and who has her.
o The lines (on page 2): “Wait a minute. Is that something around the womb area?” and “. . . pulse and respiration normal again. That’s very sudden isn’t it?” are important to the larger context of Moore’s story. Panel 6 gives readers more foreshadowing, if they are reading carefully/slowly, and is a nice example of the words and images juxtaposing with one another to give a different understanding of the scene.
o Gargunza. He is just creepy.

- Interlude: Red King Syndrome pt. 2 –
o Was this broken up in the original Warrior serialization? It picks up directly from the prelude and feels like it could have been one chapter initially.
o The psychological battle between Miracleman and Dr. Gargunza is nicely done. And, though simple, the “and they woke up from a dream” scenario is inspired, especially the way that Moore wrote this chapter. And everything is all right – except that MM’s costume has changed, as it did in their “dream.” This is not good for Dr. G.

In Search Of . . . pt. II

“Mr. Kaczmerak, you better come down and see this.” The crackle of the radio irritated Elijah every time it squawked. If he wasn’t already in a foul mood, it usually pushed him over that edge.

“I’ll be there when I can,” he spat into the comm. Sliding his finger forward, the old chair came to life and shuddered ahead, its nervous ticking announcing his passage.

Minutes later, the old man rolled into the large atrium at the front of the house. He could feel his ears starting to burn. Standing at the door, which was still ajar, was the captain of his guards, Seth Palmer. Slumped beside him, dark blood dried on one side of his face, was Dale, the one Elijah had sent to watch Karen.

“What the fuck happened here,” rasped the old man, his gnarled voice raising the hair on the back of Dale’s neck.

“I lost her,” was the guard’s feeble reply.

“What? I can’t fucking hear you.” Elijah lurched the wheelchair forward, stopping three feet from the two men. Lifting himself out of the seat, he leaned over, holding a hand to his ear.

The Captain shoved Dale harshly, sending the injured man to his knees. “Tell Mr. Kaczmerak what you did.” The Captain’s tone was heavy and even.

“I-I-I-I lost her,” he sputtered, hands shaking feverishly as he clasped them together to try and make them stop.

“You. Lost. Her.” Elijah’s eyes bored into the quivering guard as Seth took a spot beside his employer.

“Do I not pay you enough?” Elijah fell back into his chair as he spat the last of this question out, a coughing fit racking his upper body. Despite this, he kept his eyes squarely on the shivering excuse before him as the coughs passed.

“Yes, sir. You pay me good Mr. K.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Dale added, as if this made any difference.

“Have you ever been paid better?” Elijah acted as if he’d not heard the statement, his voice rising once more.

“No, Mr. K.”

“No!” The word landed like a hammer.

“And yet, you lost my daughter. How does that happen?”

“I don’t know, sir.” Dale was now prostrate, arms outstretched with clenched hands begging for a reprieve.

“Honest answer, but the wrong one,” said Elijah. “Now, take your gun out.”

Dale looked up, confused. His mind went over the old man’s words again, but he was unable to act.

“Take the fucking gun out, son.” Elijah’s tenor faded slightly. Dale did what he was told.

“Good. Now, eat that fucking gun or I will rend the flesh from your worthless hide.” Dale searched the old man’s eyes, but they didn’t waver.

“I SAID EAT THAT FUCKING GUN!!” Dale fell back before Elijah’s volume as another fit of coughing overtook the old man. Unable to process the absurdity of the order, Dale remained motionless.

After a long minute, Elijah finally relaxed and leveled his eyes at the cringing man one last time. “I need to keep order in my house. That is part of the reason for your substantial retainer. If you are going to fuck up royally, I cannot keep you on.

“So, eat. That fucking. Gun.” Elijah sat back, contentment finally crossing his withered features as he slid one hand up to the palm console of his chair.

Dale looked at Mr. Kaczmerak, then at Seth, and back to Mr. K once more. Neither one flinched, and Dale understood.

Instinctively, he turned the gun on the two men before him, and just as quickly, Elijah tapped a switch resting beneath his left index finger, sending a signal to microchips implanted within all the weapons in the house.

Dale’s gun did not discharge. He pulled the trigger multiple times, the frail click dissolving what hope was left.

A smile split across Elijah’s face. “I control everything in this house. You would have done well to remember that, you dumb shit.” The old man continued to stare at Dale as he reached across and pulled Seth’s own gun from its holster. Leveling the heavy weapon at the sobbing man in front of him, Elijah Kaczmerak quickly tapped the switch beneath his left hand once more and fired with his right.

Dale fell back, blood seeping from his midsection as he convulsed spastically, tears running over the dried blood on his face. He worked to say something, but the effort was too much. It was another fifteen minutes before he properly expired, but his last words had already been uttered.

“Shall I take care of him sir,” asked Elijah’s Captain.

The old man looked up with weary eyes and shook his head no. Then he raised the gun and shot Seth as well, point blank, blood and bits of skin spattering across Elijah.

“Ultimately, are you not responsible for your men?”

Dropping the gun, Elijah activated the comm-unit to speak to his butler. “Gregory. Get a cleaning detail to the atrium, please. And see if you can’t find a good investigator. I want him here by the end of the week.”

“Yes sir.”

To Be Continued . . .

In Search Of . . . pt. I

“Get off that damn web and get down here!” Elijah’s cackle trailed over the carpeted steps of the ornate staircase. His daughter tried to ignore it but knew better than to challenge his resolve. Not replying would result in his blanketing the house, blocking any signals in the area.

Karen folded up her screen, dropped it on her nightstand and headed downstairs.

Reaching the bottom step, Karen could hear her father coming from the east wing before she saw him, his antiquated wheelchair ticking loudly.

“What the hell are you doin’? Sun’s up and pretty soon it’ll be too cold to wear those skimpy dresses of yours. Get out while you still can, I don’t want any of your complaining come winter.”

Karen had any number of wise retorts, but the past six years’ of constant fighting with her father had worn her down and her only reply was, “Okay.”

Turning to leave, she could feel her father’s eyes boring into her back, peeling away the layers she’d built up. She didn’t bother looking back.

The door slammed and Elijah keyed the comm on his chair arm. “Dale. She’s heading out. Keep an eye on her.”

“Yes, sir,” crackled the guard’s response.

Satisfied, Elijah slumped back into the chair and closed his eyes.

•••

Karen walked aimlessly over the expansive grounds, the tree line surrounding the mansion mocking her. With no real options, she soon found herself plodding into the tangle of branches.

The silence left her mind to wander. Karen couldn’t remember the day Cali slid off into the Pacific, but her father had told the story so many times she was able to conjure up her own memories with little thought. They had been living in New York at the time, her father doing well as an investment banker, but overnight, stock prices plummeted, sending the world into a panic from which it still had not extricated itself.

Her father fled, taking what he could with them and brought Karen and her brother up here to their vacation spot in Maine. In his mind, it was the only safe place for them. And for nearly fifteen years, he’d kept her captive on this green tract of land.

Her brother Cedric had gotten out a few years back, leaving in the middle of the night – no note, no goodbye, no way to contact him. Karen had trawled the web, searching for any indication he was still alive, but it was like he’d never existed.

•••

The first leaves of autumn crunched under Karen’s feet as she pushed further into the woods. She’d read about the clear-cutting that went on during the war, viewed images on the net, but never actually experienced it. Six year ago, soon after she’d turned thirteen, Karen had decided to investigate, see if it was really true. Getting up early one morning, she dove into the woods. What she had failed to take into consideration were the excesses of her father’s wealth and the depths of his paranoia. After two days of walking, with little in the way of supplies and no end in sight, she’d been forced to turn back.

Though Cedric’s anxiety had been etched across his face when she returned, her father made no mention of the incident, and this, more than anything, burned hot inside Karen. She was determined to find a way out the next time.

To one side, Karen caught a flicker of movement, stifling her reverie. A smile brushed her lips as she slowed her pace.

A minute later, the man her father had dispatched was easing up behind her, working hard not to raise her suspicion and doing a poor job of it. Still, she played along.

Rounding a large fir tree, Karen’s arm prickled as the guard took hold of it. She caught her breath as he pulled her back to him, raising his pistol with his free hand.

“What’s that for?” Karen asked mischievously.

“For if you get out of line.”

“Only if that’s what you want,” she purred softly, her mouth broadening into a wicked smile.

Dale bent down and pressed his lips hard against hers. Karen didn’t resist, wrapping her tongue around his as she slid her arms over his back. Breaking the kiss, Dale dropped his gun to the pine needles and the two frantically clawed at each other’s clothing, fumbling with buttons and snaps in their fervor.

Once naked, ragged breaths echoed in their ears as the cool air raised goose pimples on unprotected flesh.

“Take me,” Karen breathed as she spread out on the soft ground, staring longingly into her guardian’s eyes.

“Say my name,” he grunted.

Karen’s smile got wider as she whispered heavily, “Come over here and fuck me, Dale.”

•••

Afterward, Dale laid back on the pine needles and closed his eyes. Physically spent, he allowed himself the luxury of dozing off for a short time.

Footsteps crackling the autumn leaves jarred him awake, but Dale was content to keep his eyes closed, savoring the recent memory barely minutes old. He figured Karen was going off to find a place to reliever herself. It was amusing that she could be so vulgarly intimate with him, but refused to pee in front of him. Dale smile . . .

. . . and then everything went dark as something heavy and jagged crushed into the side of his head.

To be continued.

some serialized fiction

So,

Monk Eastman created a pretty cool burst culture site when he came up with 50 Years From Now. He wrote, and asked for contributions, that would populate our world fifty years into the future. His guidelines were that it be plausible - no lasers, rocket ships, etc. - and that each piece be 1000 words or less. My first contribution came full-fledged while I was picking blueberries with my wife. (cute story, but the tale I conceived included cannibalism, so make of that what you will).

Next, using some of the other offerings as a jumping off point, I came up with the first chapter of a serial, which I titled "In Search Of..." At the time, I wasn't sure where I was going with it. The characters came to me before the actual spine of the story. but as I slowly wrote about these people, a greater tapestry started coming into focus. And with my latest chapter, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I know how it all ends, I just don't know exactly how I'm getting there. But I know it won't be too long.

Sadly, however, Monk has let go of the site. It hasn't been updated in months, and I'm unsure what contributing factors may have brought this about. So, I will need to continue with "In Search Of..." here, for the time being. Which means I should start from the beginning.

So, with this new month, I will begin serialization of "In Search Of..." And we'll see where it takes us.

chris

Life is Funny, complete, for your reading pleasure

The shorty story I wrote for Ape's UFO anthology, "Life is Funny," with fantastic art from Jason Copland and Osmarco Valladao, and fine lettering by Josh Aitken, has come to a close. All 8 pages are now available for your viewing and reading pleasure at the Ape webcomic portal. Page 1 is here.

Go check it out. If you've got the time, scroll down past the creator bios and rate and comment on the story or a particular page (pp. 5 & 6 are really good) and look for more work at some point in the future.

thanks,
chris

Aint It Cool News says LIFE IS FUNNY is "pretty damn harrowing"

Over at the Ain't It Cool News site, they've thrown up their latest comic reviews. Scroll down about 2/3 of the way to the "dot.comics" section and you'll find Vroom Socko's quick review of three of Ape's web comics.

The first one he tackles is the UFO anthology, where the short story I did with Jason Copland, Osmarco Valladao, and Josh Aitken - "Life is Funny" - is currently being serialized. Vroom says of the story so far: "[it's] pretty damn harrowing" and that he's "especially interested in seeing more art from [Jason]," which makes complete sense. Go on over and check it out through the link below:

AICN reviews

and check back tomorrow for the next to last page in our tale at www.apecmx.com/ufo.

thanks,
chris

Pages 1-4 of Life is Funny, live now @ Apecmx

My entry for the Ape UFO anthology started up a week and a half ago. I wrote it as a complete story (which sounds pretentious, but hear me out), and unlike the previous tale written by Raphael Moran, “Life is Funny” is more of a slow burn leading up to the climax. Raph’s “Angst” had twists and turns with each page and worked better as an online serialization.

Anyway. The first four – of eight – pages are now live on the Ape comix site. If you’ve got the time, go check them out, (from page one) and if you’re so inclined, down past the bios are links for rating the pages and making comments. I would greatly appreciate it if you took a moment to click the stars or the thumbs up/down– if only for the art from Jason and Osmarco, which I think is beautiful. The more positive feedback, the better.

And I promise, with the next couple of pages, the tension gets amped up and it will be worth your while. Or your money back ;)

Page 2 above.

Thanks,
chris

Life is Funny begins

The story I began in December, 2008 (at which point it was a 6-page script) is finally seeing the light of day. The artwork by Jason Copland and lush colors from Osmarco Valladao are amazing, in my opinion. And Josh Aitken's lettering rounds it out so nicely. It's very cool to see the word I wrote come to life on the page (screen).

I'm very proud of this, and though the overall story is a slow burn, you should check out page 1 at the link below over at the Apecomix site.

LINK

Thanks,
chris

COLOR

I'm working up a superhero pitch for a number of prospective publishers, and am lucky enough to have Osmarco Valladao, who did the coloring on my forthcoming short story in ape's UFO anthology, signed on to color this story if it ever gets picked up. He has a lot on his plate right now and was not able to color the proposal pages, but he did give me some options regarding the coloring of the costume thanks to his coloring for the proposed cover, which also has a new log Osmarco used that makes this cover looks a hundred times better than the b/w mock-up I did, which I threw in for comparison's sake.

Now I just need to decide on a final coloring scheme.


Enjoy,
chris

UFOS land @ Newsarama

Hey all,

The online anthology - U.F.O. Encounters with the Unknown - from Ape Entertainment, which will feature my first professional writing credit, got a little love from the folks at Newsarama. They did a feature interview with Troy Dye, the editor of the project, and Elton Pruitt, who wrote the first story "Anything For You."

The article can be found here. The above image is the "cover" for the anthology by Jason Copland and Osmarco Valladao. My story with Jason and Osmarco should begin serialization around January 13. I'll drop a link in when it hits. Looking forward to it and thanks for checking us out.

chris