In less than a month, one of my biggest dreams — and also biggest fears – an an author will come to pass. Two year ago I stared at a story of mind, bit back my fear, wrote a pitch, and submitted the idea of a world swarmed by monstrous hordes, where the dead outnumber the living to Kyanite press.
That wasn’t the part that frightened me, but rather, the idea of what it was to become is what gave me anxiety. Part of my literary goals is to create worlds and universes that other authors would want to write within. Remnants was my first sandbox, and to my pleasure, others joined me and played with their creative grains.
I couldn’t be more amazed and proud as I put faces to the stories, and thrived in the shared horror, bittersweet victories, and personal tragedies that have slathered the pages. Each creator has taken the initially proposed ideas, added their own spin, and taken me on an emotional and personal roller coaster ride that has left dread in my stomach and pride beating in my breast.
J.D Sanderson has created a short and savage introduction to the chaos that is to come. His story is that of desperation, confusion, much like what I imagine the opening hours of the monster apocalypse would be like for individuals who find themselves lost, confused, and inexperienced.
This, in turn, is followed by Aaron Lee’s Heatwave, which takes us out of the confusion of J.D.’s work, and instead shows us the modern global society dealing with the certain gloom of a world going mad as it struggles against an unbeatable foe. What I thought would be an overview, still keeps itself personal, dealing with specialists who find themselves caught in the fray, and the relations of those who make it their goal to share the truths the world tries to hide.
P.S. As an HVAC mechanic, I approve of the story, and its monitoring system.
Only for us to fall into the relationship of an out of love family, with characters you might despise, but care for all the same. J.D. Kellner’s Megan is of people, flawed, toxic, but human, attempting to survive together in a relationship that had long ago fallen apart. Here, for the first time, we are introduced to the threads of hope, and the nature of those too restless to simply leave the world behind.
This brings us to Rachel Ford’s Love Song. I won’t lie. I may have pictured a young Blake Shelton belting out a soft country love ballad, and in the moments of the sweetness that contracted Kellner’s Megan, I felt for the main character. There is, in some worlds, a word for love that ends whilst it’s still sweet, a special love, and that is what I felt throughout.
I had hopes when I pitched Remnants that others would integrate their own terrors, and I am not disappointed. Ian Fairgrieve’s debut published work, The Brood, introduces us to a new monster. Different, yet frightening, the click of The Brood will send a menacing chill down readers’ spines as they find themselves facing the menaces of the new world through the eyes of a cruel survivor, who is perhaps an example of the heartlessness needed to survive.
Michael D. Nadeau’s Other Side, in contrast, shows us the new world from those who might not have fully survived, and, for the first time, we are introduced to a global view of the world lost, yet also, the hops that not just individuals,, but communities can still thrive as the best of humanity shines like a beacon through the darkness.
P.S. I cheered for Tah and his people, literally.
Just as things are looking up, however, Benjamin Hope gives us a tense, claustrophobic tale. I felt the tight terror of horror flicks where the monster pursues the few heroes, forcing them to survive on their wits. Sweat did grow on my brow as, for the first time, we see one of the beasts played to its strengths. All the other stories up until now have been of the horde and the swarm, but readers are treated to the true menace that just one of the monsters can cause.
Alan Provance’s Echoes of Faith takes us south of the US, and it feels gritty, vibrant. I could taste the effects of a city gone dead in my mouth. The introduction of this small band, and the realities of post-traumatic stress numbing those who escaped the initial massacre reminds me of war refugees, and their thousand-yard stares.
Then, Enter Crystal Kirkham and her very Canadian addition. Having been through Red Deer before, and knowing the type of people she mentions, I actually cheered out loud over the victories the few survivors have made for themselves.
Only to be sucked from the triumph, to be reminded, in D.W. Hitz’s Rien’s Path, that not all of humanity and communities are the utopias we wish them to be. I felt the history of sieges, and the desperate choices made by groups in the darkest of times with raw and honest shock.
A.A. Rubin’s the Forgotten changes that again, as imagination conquers over indoctrinate attitudes. I felt the stirrings of an optimistic retelling of Lord of The Flies, or John Wyndham’s The Chrysalids, but it too, is a gritty war drama that faces the reality of once more dealing with an incident one thought recessed.