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Sheer Horror #3
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marie
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Sep 28, 2003 04:03 PDT
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ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ
S H E E R H O R R O R #3 OCT 2003
ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ
~ Fiction to Haunt you Forever ~
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ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ
By subscription only with compliments from:
Marie Johnstone
=> Contact me: mailto:webma-@sheerhorror.com
=> Website http://www.sheerhorror.com
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W h a t' s i n S t o r e
ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ
=> Writing Tip
=> Sheer Fiction
=> List Info
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B r e a k i n g N e w s
ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ
Sheer Horror now has an official website! Visit
http://www.sheerhorror.com for writing tips and
original horror fiction. I'll be adding fiction and
tips monthly as well as a page of my favourite writing
and horror resources. If you get time, please drop
me a line and let me know what you think.
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W r i t i n g T i p
ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ
SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST
FIGHT TO THE TOP. It was Thomas Malthus (a British
economist) who first recognised that human populations
increase at a higher rate than surrounding resources.
This leads to a struggle whereby only the 'fittest'
survive. So it is with writers. Some of us succeed and
prosper while others fail to even make it past the
starting block.
EVOLVE OR DIE. Charles Darwin saw variation as a key
factor in the process of evolution. Living things with
useful variations survive and reproduce while less-
fortunate organisms eventually become extinct.
THE KEY TO SURVIVAL. Fierce competition exists in the
writing community and, if you wish to hang on to your
fans and even attract new ones, you need to be able to
adapt in order for your writing business to evolve and
prosper. It's all about giving yourself the edge.
PERSONALITY PAYS. How is it that some pieces of work
can just grab your attention and hold on? Content
certainly helps, but the core ingredient is
personality. Some works exude charisma. And, when you
think about it, people don't get much pleasure from
impersonal products. We all enjoy the human touch.
KEY TIP! It's difficult, if not impossible, for your
competitors to emulate your writing style. It is the
core or essence of you and is the one thing that cannot
successfully be copied by those in your field.
BREATH OF FRESH AIR. Charismatic works, like
charismatic people, can't help but attract attention.
Without charisma, there's nothing to distinguish you
from the rest. Personality breathes life into your
writing - and it's the reason why people will remember
you and become loyal (hopefully life-long) readers.
WHY RE-INVENT THE WHEEL? Earning an income from writing
is not something that's likely to happen without
effort. You can't expect to create a successful
business as a writer if you just blindly follow
everyone else. That's a quick route to becoming just
another second-rate imitation. And, with that attitude,
your writing is doomed right from the start.
FIND YOUR NICHE. What useful variations can you supply
that your competitors don't? At the very least, you
ought to keep an eye on writers in your field - just to
get a feel for techniques and styles. Such research
will give you ideas on how you can create your own
charisma - because it is something that you can create.
NATURAL SELECTION. Darwin identified two mind-sets
amongst organisms: those who remained in their original
habitat, competing for resources and struggling to
survive, and those who moved to new locations where
they would be able to prosper. The latter didn't wait
for their luck to turn around. And you don't have to
either.
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ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ
WANT to progress as a Horror Writer? Unearth writing
tips and fantastic, original new horror fiction with
the Sheer Horror ezine. Where horror's no longer dead!
*** Sheer Horror ~ http://www.sheerhorror.com ***
* Join NOW: mailto:sheerhorror-@topica.com
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ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ
You may publish this tip in your ezine and/or website
as long as the above resource box is left intact.
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S h e e r F i c t i o n
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Skin
by Marie Johnstone
Weals formed, scarlet Braille-bumps on skin thin and
fragile as tissue. A bead of sweat trickled down Ella's
forehead as she struggled to free her wrists from the
rope which bound them. The single droplet tracked the
downward curve to the corner of her left eye and
splashed into target with the sharp sting of salt.
Sunlight crept closer to where she was stretched, naked
against the bare stone wall.
Blood rushed to her cheeks and her empty stomach
heaved as she felt the skin on her back start to warm.
A swirling, stinking mess of vomit and blood spattered
the white floor and her pale - almost translucent -
feet, while her thin frame shuddered with the effort of
being sick. She swilled saliva around her mouth, spat
out the makeshift rinse and braced herself for the
nightmare ahead.
When a fierce burst of light flooded the balcony,
she clamped her eyes shut and hung her head. She could
feel the old scars grow taut on her back as the heat
intensified, searing into tender flesh. Wet splashes
fell to her feet, removing the remains of her stomach
with tears which welled out from tightly-screwed eyes.
Ella did not scream, or even moan, when large, painful
sores erupted on the surface of her skin. She did not
scream - she would not give her mother the
satisfaction.
She woke later to near darkness. The wooden shutters
were closed against the light and the large colonial
fan hummed rhythmically overhead. Ella lay unmoving
and, despite being washed with a steady stream of air,
sweated profusely into the wrap of linen bandages,
becoming dizzy just by being still. Preferring sleep to
the unbearable itching that had started to creep along
her skin, she closed her eyes. This time she hoped that
the fever would take hold of her and keep hold. Pain,
her only companion, was back with a vengeance.
A familiar smell wafted closer. Slightly sweet and
not at all pleasant. The odour of a clove-studded
breath no longer fresh.
"The physician informs me that this should have
worked by now. You know what I think?" Her mother's
voice, rasped against her ear. "I think maybe it's time
to try something else. I do hope you're listening to
me, but just in case you're not ..."
Ella's eyes snapped open as the skin on her arm
received a deep, vicious pinch, nails scraping through
the dressing. Though her vision was blurred, Ella could
tell that her mother would be staring at her now with
thinly veiled disgust. She felt the older woman's
fingers relax and draw back quickly, as if they had
touched something quite repulsive.
"I've found you an alternative treatment."
Against her will, Ella's eyelids started to
twitch.
"This one's been thoroughly tested." The voice
assumed a sly, all-knowing tone. "Some of the slaves
were only too eager to try it out, desperate for any
chance to be normal. The authorities, not sympathetic
to your plight as I am, are close to obtaining a
restriction order, impatient to move us from the
neighbourhood." After a slight pause, waiting for the
news to sink in, her mother continued. "If I can't get
you fixed, my only other option, and you have to
understand that it would be a last resort, would be to
go it alone."
Ella felt her eyes flicker rapidly. She knew
exactly from her mother's tone of voice what that last
piece meant. If this new treatment didn't work ....
Maybe she could finally be left to rest in peace.
The wounds on her body had not yet had a chance to
heal. Her back was puffed and sore with pus-filled
blisters and her skin so thin and stretched that it
felt like it could tear at any moment. But she wouldn't
cause a fuss. The pain was one thing, but the sight of
her mother losing it was another. Once, Ella had
snapped and had called her a twisted bitch. It was
after a particularly gruelling session of skin burn. A
few harsh words had changed the normally composed woman
into a self-pitying wreak who had insisted, "I'm doing
all this for you - so you can live a normal life." No,
she'd rather suffer more treatment in silence than
listen to a pack of lies from her own blood. And, if
this new treatment should fail, her mother would be the
one to truly lose out.
She allowed the older woman, her sole guardian, to
lead her into the treatment room; a ceiling to floor
'cell' of stainless steel. Ella shut her eyes and kept
her head still as a sharp razor scraped roughly over
it, removing what was left of her hair. Although she
had never been allowed to grow her hair more than a few
inches, she had no desire to watch the rest of the
fine, white strands fall discarded to the floor.
Unlike her mind which was quite still and
strangely calm, her body was tugged back and forth,
bandages removed to fall in a bundle around her feet.
Still she remained impassive to it all, even as the
bulging sores on her back were slit neatly open with a
blade. It took the shock of a dousing of cold water for
Ella to open her eyes and gasp.
Suddenly she felt vulnerable like she never had
before, standing naked and shivering in the sterile
room, watching the unwanted fluids from her skin, the
yellow-red swirl of blood and pus, drain down through
waste holes in the floor.
Ella noted how her mother busied herself to the
task at hand, uncaring and insensitive to the feelings
of her only child - her failed prodigy. Glancing down
at her own pale skin, she wondered how she ever emerged
from the dark loins of the stranger standing before
her. Had she taken after her father or had she just
been the result of a freak birth? Not that the answer
would really matter, she thought, as, either way, the
end result would still be the same.
A sudden flare of heat and a burning sensation
stung the raw and open sores on her back. She must have
cried out as her mother stared at her now, finally
pausing from the application of some heavy black paste
from a ceramic bowl.
"Only a few more hours," the older woman said as
she dipped her cloth back for a second helping, "and
you'll be just like me."
Ella's cheeks flared with heat. She grabbed hold
of her mother's arms and used a reserve of strength she
didn't know existed to slam her up against the far
wall. The bowl fell and smashed on the floor, the black
paste spattering the floor and the tangle of legs.
"Well guess what, mother." Ella spat the words
out. "I don't want to look like you, I never did."
Ella was amazed that she'd known what to do, it had
been part instinct and part knowledge from years of
being holed away with nothing to do when recuperating
but read. And read she had, she devoured books with a
passion - especially the medical tomes which had
surprisingly not been put safely out of her reach.
Searching for anything which might give the slightest
insight into why she was so different. Unfortunately,
most of the books were very old and made hard work of
reading. She had learned about so-called 'freaks of
nature' and guessed she was just one of those. But Ella
had gleaned many interesting snippets along the way and
knew just enough about the effects of using undiluted
bleaching agents on the epidermis - the outer layer of
skin.
She looked down and smiled kindly on the woman
shackled to the metal operating table. "Well mother, I
finally realise just how important it is to you that we
look the same. And I suppose you've got a point." Ella
noticed the woman's gagged face relax just a little.
"But," she continued as she donned a plastic apron and
gloves, "I think it's only fair that we give my skin a
little breather." Smiling in quiet satisfaction, Ella
soaked the wire-wool in the bucket and rubbed it hard
over her mother's age-slackened skin.
Copyright İ 2003 Marie Johnstone. All Rights Reserved
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ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ
WANT to progress as a Horror Writer? Unearth writing
tips and fantastic, original new horror fiction with
the Sheer Horror ezine. Where horror's no longer dead!
*** Sheer Horror ~ http://www.sheerhorror.com ***
* Join NOW: mailto:sheerhorror-@topica.com
_______________________________________________________
ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ
You may publish my fiction in your ezine and/or website
as long as the above resource box is left intact.
_______________________________________________________
L i s t I n f o
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Copyright İ 2003 Marie Johnstone. All Rights Reserved
PSST! PASS iT ON! If you like Sheer Horror, please
recommend it. Hit that forward button NOW.
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