COMING SOON - #66

Filming is complete!
Editing is complete!
First trailer is coming soon, very very soon. And then on to the 2016 festivals!

Dark Elements: Catch and Release

Catch and Release

Written by Matthew Ryan Fischer
Illustrated by Michelle Joy Montrose
© 2015

Away from the city, away from the crowds, and the overgrowth of human population that drove everything else into submission. Away from the modern world, with modern conveniences and modern ways of doing things. Hidden away, deep in the woods, there was something older, something distant, something ancient. Inside the woods there was a cabin. And inside the cabin there was a study. And on the study wall hung a catcher. Rustic, dirty and ragged. Made from scratch.

From the city they came. Away from their lives. Away from the hustle and bustle. They were looking for a break, a respite from modern life. They were unknowing, ignorant of the value of their modern life and the protective shield it provided.

They had no idea what door they were opening.

Some things were better left buried in the past.

A handmade willow hoop with a cross section of twigs instead of a web. There were several smaller interwoven sinew webs attached to the twig cross. It was unclear who made it. It was unclear who put it in this cabin or why. There was no indication that this was a place of any great importance. It was the middle of nowhere. Unlikely to be a great epicenter of some magical energy pattern. There was no reason for a lone catcher to act as a beacon or magnet. But there are times, during that great long and lonely night, that nature needs a lighthouse of some kind. Not manufactured by man’s hands. But something more arcane and natural. Something necessary. There were too many great and evil things in the world. Nature needed a way of protecting some sort of balance.

The campers came. The weekend warriors. Those on their little getaways with no knowledge of what really made the world turn.

But the world watched. The world judged. Hidden in the mask of night, the world saw all.

And then one of the twigs snapped.

No one noticed. Why would they? They were tourists. Vacationers. They didn’t pay attention to things like that.

Did something break free? Or break through? The catcher was old and was far from perfect. There were dark and dangerous spirits, powerful and destructive. Nothing stayed bound forever.

What had the catcher protected against? What had been loosed upon the world?

The campers didn’t live long enough to ask.

Additional stories are available at: Dark Elements.
Support this project on Indiegogo HERE.
 

Dark Elements: Cat Scratch Battle

Cat Scratch Battle

Written by Matthew Ryan Fischer
Illustrated by Michelle Joy Montrose
© 2015

Hermes and Hallow often had the same argument over and over. The words might change, but the gist was always the same.

“He loves me more, you know.”

“If he loved you, he’d take you when he goes out.”

“You get to go out because you can’t think for yourself and he knows you won’t run off!”

“Just because I listen, doesn’t make me stupid. I’m far wiser than you’ll ever know.”

“Just because you’re quiet, doesn’t mean you’re wise.”

The problem was that Hermes the cat was an extremely jealous cat. He didn’t show much affection and often ignored his master. I mean, he was a cat after all. But still, just because Hermes didn’t want all that much attention didn’t mean he wanted other pets getting any for themselves. Hermes had been feeling threatened lately because his master had decided that a new familiar was in order and he had summoned forth the owl. Hermes usually scoffed at the very concept that he had a master, but now that his master was seemingly moving on, he suddenly felt very insecure and longed for the simplicity of the old system of order. If he could go back in time, he might even listen a little bit more often. Even if he didn’t show it well, he really did love his master.

Hallow was a watcher. His position in life was to observe and record. He didn’t mind, he quite enjoyed watching. Hallow was a trusted familiar, allowed a certain amount of freedom because he would always return. He was well aware of the fact that the cat did not receive this same freedom. He was well aware of the friction this caused. But in all honestly, Hallow felt it was well warranted. The cat wouldn’t take orders. The cat didn’t care. If left to its own devices there was no telling what sort of trouble that cat would get into. Hallow was fairly certain that nothing the cat did would be to the benefit of their shared owner. So the cat got a locked door at night, while he received an open window, high above any area the cat could get to. Good, thought Hallow, I deserve it.

“I hate you,” said Hermes.

“I know.”

Hermes bared his claws, and leapt quickly, but Hallow flew high above and out of reach.

Damn those wings, thought Hermes. If I had wings I wouldn’t stay here. I would travel the world. He’s a fool for staying.

Hallow circled above for a moment, watching the cat, then flew to his window perch and looked out at the world outside. He could see what was to come. He knew there was a world outside, with all its grand adventures waiting. But he had more important pressing matters to attend to. The darkness was growing as the days slipped away. Samhain was approaching and on that night his master would pass from this world and Hallow would feed on his soul.

Hallow owed the cat nothing. There was no reason to warn him what was to come. The cat had always hated him. Hallow would feed and fly and leave the cat locked in to starve. The days were counting down. Soon. Perhaps once it was all over, he would return and watch the cat waste with hunger. Maybe he would feed on his soul as well. Such a stupid beast. If only he had been nicer. If only he had accepted the owl as an equal, then perhaps Hallow would have shown him the world. As it stood, Hallow would only watch the future unfold and take pleasure at what he knew was to come. 


Additional stories are available here: Dark Elements. 

Support this project on Indiegogo HERE.

Dark Elements: Psychosomatic Voodoo

Psychosomatic Voodoo

Written by Matthew Ryan Fischer
Illustrated by Michelle Joy Montrose
© 2015

Trevor had been going to doctors since he was a child. He felt unexplained intermittent pains. He developed strange intermittent bruises and cuts. There didn’t seem to be any direct cause or explanation. Some people chalked it up to boys being boys and that he must have been roughhousing and unwilling to admit it. Others took it more seriously and tested him for an array of issues, psychological, physical and neurological. Fibromyalgia, lupus, chronic pain. No one had a decent answer.

The pain went away as Trevor got older, but the mental scars were harder to heal. Trevor had been lived a life of fear all throughout his youth. He never knew when the attacks would come. Never knew what new torture he would suffer.

It was hard to be brave under those circumstances. It was hard to live a challenging and full life.

But he was learning to.

And then one day in his young adult life, the second strange affliction struck.

There was no pain. Trevor suffered no pain. He didn’t know why. He used to suffer pain. But then something switched. He didn’t have congenital analgesia, or at least not that the doctors could find. But his symptoms were the same. If he hurt himself, he never felt it. A very dangerous proposition. He never knew when he was getting sick. He never knew when he had stubbed his toe or burnt his hand or stepped on something sharp.

Trevor was learning to be very careful. But he didn’t want to be careful. He wanted to live his life.

Trevor walked down the street with a sewing needle in his pocket. Occasionally he would stick his hand in his pocket and stick himself with it. Sometimes he would poke his hand. Sometimes he would poke through the pocket into his leg. He was waiting. Not for the pain to return. He never expected for that to occur. He had made his peace with the idea of never feeling pain again. No, Trevor was waiting to see if someone else would ever react.

Trevor considered himself an anti-voodoo doll. He figured that at one point he was receiving someone else’s injuries and now he was returning the favor and sending his own along to someone else. He didn’t know if he was victim or torturer. Perhaps he was both. But he was determined to find his voodoo connection, one stab at a time.

Every time he saw another person, he did something to hurt himself. Just to see if they would react. Just on the offshoot chance they were someone nearby. He had pricked himself countless times with the needle. He had bled and scabbed over and bled again.

He didn’t know what he would actually do if he ever found the person he was connected to. He hoped there would be some simple solution. He hoped they could separate themselves, either with medicine or magic, which ever proved most potent. Perhaps he would find his nemesis who had cursed him. Or maybe it would be his doppelganger from a sister universe.

Trevor didn’t have a backup plan in case this one didn’t work.

One day Trevor was walking down the street and across the street a man dropped the bag he was carrying when Trevor stabbed himself in the leg with the needle.

Was that him? Was that his voodoo brother? Trevor studied the other man. He looked like a boring, ordinary man. Nothing special. Nothing venomous or sadistic. Certainly nothing magical or otherwise extraordinary like a clone or evil twin. What was he going to say to this man? How was he going to explain what was happening to them both?

Trevor stabbed himself again, just to test and confirm the connection.

The man across the street didn’t react. Apparently his first pain was unrelated to Trevor’s actions.

Trevor walked away, a little sadder for the experience. What little hope he had carried with him was suddenly gone, and his emotions began to deaden just as his tactile senses had once done. Perhaps this was just another affliction. Maybe one they would name after him. Somehow he found no comfort in that thought.

Additional stories are available here: Dark Elements.

Dark Elements: Rat Telepathy

Rat Telepathy

Written by Matthew Ryan Fischer
Illustrated by Michelle Joy Montrose
© 2015

The noise was overbearing and incomprehensibly loud. Ten-thousand rats, squeaking and shrieking, as they scratched and clawed and threw their bodies about. They came from all over. Their numbers grew and grew. Biting and clawing their way together into one enormous swarm. Guided by instinct, enraged, rabid and ravenous. Their wild nature amplified and magnified.  

The signal went out. Brain-wave scans and signals and rebroadcasted thoughts.

The signal grew and grew, stronger and more commanding. Whipping them into frenzy.

The invisible signal, from some great unknown person or place. Some uncontrolled experiment or perhaps a weapon beyond compare.

The rats were ferocious, bound together, turned into a single unit. More and more, from everywhere. Every rat everywhere was woken to the single and the same moment. They were all switched on, activated, and ready to move.

The city was flooded. The city was overrun. The city was no match for such a wave of endless numbers. Endless claws. Endless teeth. Endless plague and disease and pestilence.

The city collapsed and the rats moved on, spreading further and further back out across the world, with a singular purpose and one single destiny.

Additional stories are available here: Dark Elements.