First published in NorthWords Fall 1996 Issue, November 1996
WHILE STUDYING for an exam for my English Romantic Writers course at Carleton University, I needed a "let loose" break. I often found myself most creative or most inspired to write a story while taking such a study break.
One time I wrote a 20 minute "screenplay" spoofing Star Trek: The Next Generation called "Star Trek: The Generation After The Next" which my friend John Ellis and I shot on a VHS camera in the space of an afternoon, playing all 10 characters in the script in my Baba's basement apartment in Levack during Christmas vacation, using clothes around the house for costumes and sound and special effects from an old Intellivision game system.
But that particular burst of energy was a bit rare. Most of the time, I simply wrote a short story or a poem.
Given that Coleridge's work was in front of me that afternoon, and the fact that I love his "Frost At Midnight" with its wonderful time freeze snapshot of one man's midnight musings, I couldn't help but wonder if, elsewhere, in a darker region of the universe, a sick and evil mind might not be having similar, yet more morbid musings.
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One Hand ScreamingHorror
* A bookstore that keeps more than dusty old tomes on its shelves * A phantom limb that can reach into the next world * A comic that colors people's lives with terror * Graves unable to hold their wares * A collector of haunted artifacts who gets mo...