Mar. 8th, 2017

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[personal profile] froodle
What have you been working on this week, Eerie fans? Now's the time to spread the word about any fannish treats you've got cooking: a line of dialogue from an upcoming fic, linework for your latest art piece, the yarn colours for a new toy. Let us know in the comments!
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[personal profile] froodle
It's International Women's Day, so why not celebrate with fanworks centering on your favourite Eerie ladies?
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Let's have a discussion here. I'm new to this subreddit but have been a horror fan since the ripe age of 7 when my parents showed me John Carpenter's "Halloween". Horror is my genre of choice, and I have met many filmmakers that inspired me (John Carpenter, George Romero, Tom Savini, etc. the list goes on)

But let's go back to a time where EC Comics were in every boy's bedroom, or when Marvel was putting out things like Werewolf by Night and Tomb of Dracula, or even shows like Hilarious House of Frightenstein, Goosebumps (and the many duplicates), or even the animated Tales from the Cryptkeeper.

What happened to those? I feel that most kids aren't getting exposed to horror until much much later in life (late teens), and this lack of "scary" or gothic subject matter in their television programs is also affecting the decline in popularity of the holiday of halloween.

Kids (at least in my area) aren't getting dressed up as vampires, ghosts, witches, or demons.. But rather ninja turtles, princesses, and harry potter. Now obviously not every costume in the history of Halloween has been scary, but at least there was some variety. Now, horror is no longer making an impact, and most kids aren't even aware of "the rules" for most monsters, and I feel that has to do with the lack of exposure to them.

Kids know how to kill zombies (thanks to the Walking Dead), but if you ask "How do you kill a werewolf?" they have no clue. Or even "How do you kill a vampire?"

I'm not talking about making horror things cutesy for kids, I'm simply talking about exposure to the supernatural..

In conclusion I propose two questions :

Were you exposed to the genre as a child, and is that why you are a fan?

and How do we get horror back in the minds of young children?

1) Yep. My first book from the library was In a Dark, Dark Room quickly followed by the Scary Stories to Read in the Dark and I used to love Tales from the Cryptkeeper and my babysitter once accidentally let us watch Silent Night Deadly Night ; my folks were weird about entertainment. I could watch shit with blood and gore, but just no sexy stuff. That eliminates some of the "sexier" horrors with sex scenes but left a lot of gory and violent ones. Go figure.

2) Gotta have stuff for them to read or watch - they don't have shows like Are you Afraid of the Dark or Goosebumps or Eerie Indiana or any of that for kids anymore. Kids won't like what they don't know. The thing is, I'm not sure how profitable that shit is anymore so there's no reason for companies to invest or produce 'em. If they never make it, kids will never like em and then it becomes this stupid circle.
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Marshall locked the office door behind him and turned to regard the sky above him. Grey clouds scudded by, harried by a rapidly-increasing wind. A few raindrops splattered the doorstep around him.

He zipped up his heavy winter-weight jacket and shook out his umbrella. High overhead, there came the low growl of thunder.

“Sucks to be you, weather,” said Marshall. “I know your game. I went home at lunch and changed my coat.”

He flipped his hood up and flipped the heavens off in one smooth gesture.

The wind picked up, pushing the hood back off his face and whipping the toggle-tipped pull cord at his eyes.

“Nope,” said Marshall, swathing his face in a long woollen scarf that came up past his nose. “Denied.”

He tucked the trailing ends of the scarf inside his coat and, as an added precaution, fastened the popper-lined flap that covered the zipper.

The rain increased, the patter of individual drops rapidly becoming the hiss of a downpour. Marshall raised the umbrella and watched the rivulets cascade over the edge of his waterproof shield.

“I’m not going to a “Rain Day” picnic,” he said.

Lightning cracked the sky. Warm and dry, Marshall walked home.

Read the rest of the Weather series here )

Read the rest of the Trusted Associates series here )
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The scratched and pitted surface of Syndi’s craft table bristled with crystals of various shapes and sizes. Every single one of them was vibrating, producing a high-pitched whine as they oscillated back and forth across the cheap particle board. The room was alive with flashing colours, blinding flashes of ultra-violet that made the white bedspread gleam dizzyingly interspersed with more visible parts of the spectrum.

Syndi backed up, one hand shielding her eyes while the other groped behind her for the doorknob. The heel of her slipper caught on the fluffy rug near the doorway, but she caught herself on a small free-standing bookshelf. Finding and turning the doorknob without ever taking her eyes away from the light show taking place in her crafting corner, she slipped through the narrow gap between door and frame, shutting it tightly behind her.

She stood for a moment in the quiet corridor, blinking away the coloured spots that danced in her vision. Then she crossed to the unvarnished wooden door that hung half-open on the landing, stuck her head through the opening, and shouted up the dusty, uncarpeted staircase that led to the Secret Spot.

“Marshall! Turn that inter-dimensional portal off right now!”

Read the rest of the Teller Family History here )
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The construction site homunculus had twisted arms made from spring-headed roofing nails. Its teeth were bared in a broken-toothed grin that mimicked the tread on a workman’s boot and it juddered unsteadily towards the interlopers on legs of hardened steel that punched holes in the breeze block barrier that separated them.

Its face was a rough suggestion etched in rolling papers and cigarette ash, and in shape it resembled a child’s snowman, a round head on a rounder body, albeit one constructed of trampled mud rather than freshly-fallen snow.

Harley picked up a discarded stick and jabbed the approaching thing in the stomach. It wobbled, tipped over, and the head came off and rolled away down the uneven slope. He watched in silence as it bounced over the churned earth, eventually coming to rest against the rusting wire fence that had so spectacularly failed to deter trespassers.

Marshall set the heavy video camera down, stretching to relieve the cramp in his shoulder. He was scowling.

“There goes our Unsolved Mysteries fame and fortune,” he said. “Six weeks of Hebrew lessons down the drain.”

“Dang it, Harley,” said Simon. “How many eldritch abominations can you destroy in a day?”

Harley giggled.

Read the rest of the Trusted Associates verse here )

Read the rest of the Holmes Brothers series here )

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