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M. Jones - 314 Crescent Manor

M. Jones - 314 Crescent Manor

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Published by Fastis Irewad

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Published by: Fastis Irewad on Aug 14, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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314 Crescent Manor
M. Jones
Fiction, Horror, Humorous, Science Fiction
horror quantum weird surreal gender "gender bending" "sciencefiction" humour "black comedy" family drama
314 Crescent Manor
© copyright M. Jones, 2010. All rights reserved.Published by Bloodletters Ink, first electronic edition.This is a work of fiction. There is no resemblance to anyone living ordead, and any such resemblance is purely coincidental. Excerpts fromthis work for use in reviews online and in print are permitted, but arenot to exceed a chapter's length. This book is not to be copied. Commer-cial use of this work is not permitted.For more stories and works published by Bloodletters Ink pleasevisit:http://bloodlettersink.com
episode one: noisy neighbour
Nathan Connor is a mess of a human being.He thought about this as he accidentally splattered ink on the corner of his kitchen table. He tried to obscure it by smearing it with his thumb in-to the worn pine, only to permanently stain it a dark grey. He cursed andgrabbed a paper towel, and tried to rub the grey shade out, then loudlycursed again as a thick red paste was added to the mix. The supposedlyclean paper towel had come into contact with the open bottle of red inkat his elbow. He gave up the effort and tossed the paper towel onto thefloor, where the oak planks at his feet were littered with crumpled pa-pers and ink blotches and the crumby remains of breakfast toast. He res-ted his elbows on the surface of the table and pressed the heels of hishands at his temples, which were already bearing the warrior marks of his efforts, thick smudges of grey, black and red ink leaking into hisscalp.He studied the pencilled in illustration framed beneath him, a depic-tion of a large, burly Sasquatch with massive clawed hands and sharkteeth drooling over a meek, t-shirted young man sitting in a chair infront of his TV. The large question mark over the young man’s openedskull was of profound significance. Nathan had been very careful in hisdetailing of the brain of the youth. He hoped his idea of subversive res-istance, expressed through the imposing violence of the Sasquatch uponthe suggestion of a questioning thought would go over better with thechief editor of The Weekly Weird than his last illustration had.“We’re not a horror magazine,” Dottie Kane had advised him yester-day morning, tossing his work back at him. “I don’t care if you think adetailed image of a vivisected cow made to look like a serial killer’s mas-terwork is a metaphor of overconsumption. It’s gross. It’ll have PETA onmy ass. Worst of all, it’ll lose us readers. Honestly, what were you think-ing? This doodle of yours has nothing to do with the editorial it’s sup-posed to illustrate.”His cheeks burned in prideful fury. “Yes it does!”“No, Nathan. The editorial is about Lady Diana’s shoe collection andhow the sales of it are going into private coffers instead of to charity,which we all know she would have preferred.”“She had over four thousand shoes,” Nathan reminded her. “ImeldaMarcos would have been jealous. I’d call that overconsumption.”“I’d call it every woman’s dream,” Dottie shot back. “Go home, andtry again. I’m warning you, Nathan. I don’t want to see any blood andguts this time. Don’t look at me like that, I’m not some dragon crampingyour style. You’re new here, and maybe the stress of coming to a new

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