"The Vampire's Refuge" a dark poem by Victoria Grace

 

(Original Picture sourced from Pixabay, edited by me on Ipiccy)

Stalking the darkness was a predator approaching prey, a creature hunting flesh,

wrapped in misery and cloaked in death.

It tore open men and women's bodies,

delighted in agony and consumed human breath.

History didn't stop the monster roaming the lands,

searching for new victims to sacrifice.

Civilization grew with this monster,

denying its evil and clueless to its obvious disguise.

Things got bad,

people hated and changed with time.

Innocence was the vampire's enemy

and its diseases infected blood, consciousness and mind.

Countries fell and skylines rose

from the mud, from the blood, out of the flood of pain.

Hungry mouths made and spirits sucked out of veins.

The vampire kept taking new shapes, forms and disorder.

The life kept flowing from the holes in its victims

and in and out of shadows it moved,

waiting for new eras and new slaughter.

It didn't take long for the world to end,

as it was, it struggled along on its last gasping breath.

It didn't take long for people to retreat to their last hiding place,

not quite existence but not quite death.

Sorrow built upon itself a new framework, structure, and home.

The vampire moved into those spaces too seeking out flesh and marrow, survivors' essence and soul.

A thousand years passed,

and some humans were scattered from one continent to the next.

The sun was still shining, the birds were still flying,

but life had slowed, industry toppled, and all that was left were scattered families' nests.

The vampire had achieved almost everything it sought, planned and desired.

The memory of the past and glory of man had been whittled down to a passing reference;

half-believed, inconsequential, long since transpired.

What was left were phantoms, but the hearts itself were not quite dead.

The survivors still clung to fragments of themselves,

their children were still loved and their blood was still warm and red.

The vampire could not yet retreat, could not abandon its cause.

It wanted deadness itself, blankness like it,

so it hunted down the last hiding places--from vulnerable flesh it refused to withdraw.

It slunk into tight corners, descended to its original home, the dirt.

It manifested as new rot in the food and created brand new hurt.

There were no more cities to conquer, no more armies to infest.

There were only the left over pieces of humanity's heart, their left over heartache, and this was their final test.

"Diseased Campaign" Poem by Victoria Grace

Diseased Campaign

(Courtesy of DiamondHead Photo Art)

My dream is of new nights

embracing

bodies

of purpose.

For most,

there aren't any dreams,

only dead memories,

and the presence of poison

inflicting

universal flesh,

leaving the dying 

to their waste;

the lost to their laughter.

Memory by itself 

I think,

is not important anymore--

because 

this existence

turns out

to not be 

what it seems.

On either day,

I can't tell 

if

hazy

fading

stars

are burying us

or 

whether

we've done that

all on our own.

It doesn't matter

what grows 

from patches 

of

tired soil.

We've slid into 

the far out lights--

been undone,

and spoiled.

Women Writers & SciFi

As a reader and a writer who loves to explore the world of speculative fiction, the bizarre and the unbelievable, I think that stories within the genre are often specifically shaped and influenced by the gender of the author.

What I mean by that is, that female scifi writers frequently bring a unique 'vision' to the science fiction universe. As women who live in a society which contain many historical and social imbalances, we are often forced to navigate through life observing the important areas OF life (work, politics, relationships, so on...) through the eyes of people who are not automatically deemed 'insiders'. This perspective on life becomes even deeper and more complex, when it comes to the experiences of women from different cultures, racial communities, nationalities and lifestyles.

Science fiction is a genre with NO limits. Anything you can imagine can have a form of legitimacy within the pages. The sheer freedom of this storytelling can bring out the best in writers, unlock their hopes, their fears, their anxieties, and their utmost creativity. All of the constraints, categorizations and limitations which are found in contemporary society, can be thrown off like the shackles they are when it comes to envisioning the future. I think this is why there is such a unique narrative female scifi authors bring to their storytelling.

The science fiction novel which was one of the books that convinced me to embark on my own writing journey was the penultimate scifi work from a female perspective, The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood.

I traveled to this nightmare world of misogyny, oppression, and injustice, The Republic of Gilead. I followed the suffering and ultimate victory of the protagonist, Offred, used as a 'breeder' and denied as a human being with rights. Before I read Atwood's work, it didn't necessarily occur to me that science fiction can be used as an expression of protest. But the themes in The Handmaid's Tale such as violence against women, hypocrisy and sexual exploitation could all be found, in different contexts, in our own world. Her novel made a statement on present injustices and transformed them into a parallel universe, the worst qualities of humanity that could be taken to the final level if freedom was allowed to be eradicated and fear allowed to dominate a population.

To me, science fiction can be political and significant literature--and the visions of those writers who have been historically marginalized have the capability of bringing a level to the writing that is multi-layered and profoundly complex. A quality of creativity that pierces through the surface.

This is definitely NOT me saying that I don't love, admire, and enjoy the science fiction of male authors in the genre. Far from it! Rod Serling and Richard Matheson, just two examples out of many, are creators I've viewed as two of the greatest writers of fantasy and scifi of the 20th century. Their exploration of the human spirit and the darkness and catastrophe which often follows behind, was writing on the highest level.

What I'm saying is that our experiences shape our creativity. The way the world reacts to who we are influences the way we see the world in return...and our destinies.

Women in science fiction can have a powerful voice because of our place in a society that has traditionally assigned varying levels of 'worth' to a woman, a society that has been both greatly unjust and greatly transformed. How we use this voice is of the highest importance not just for modern readers and writers but for the continuing transformation of our society and for the benefit of the women who will come after us.

Have women writers been discriminated against? Such things are hard to quantify or prove, although most women in the field can cite occasional instances of sexism (the editor who declares that sf by women doesn't sell; the disgruntled author who scents a feminist conspiracy when his novel fails to win awards; the claim from an old-time fan that the values of Hard SF are being destroyed by female editors with an innately feminine preference for fantasy). More recently, a number of women writers of Hard SF have talked online about the difficulties of being accepted as a woman writing in this area, and the perceived benefits (to publishers at least) of using a gender-neutral name in this subgenre.

On the whole the "Old Boy Network" of sf has been largely receptive to any women who care to join, even if various generations of male writers and editors have expressed surprise at sf's attraction to women writers and readers. Even after 40 years, there are still significant segments of the sf community that remain oblivious or indifferent to the work of women writers. Whether this stems from ignorance or implicit bias against women's writing, the result is the same: a view of the history and contemporary state of sf that fails to acknowledge the contributions of women in the field.

- See more at: http://www.sf-encyclopedia.com/entry/women_sf_writers

"Memory Never Dies" A Poem by V.G. Grace

Memory Never Dies

Their past

is still present--

the lives

of those I loved,

pieces

scattered throughout my recollection.

Our sum parts

screened 

like a film,

an ongoing loop

in my head.

I can click the rewind button

like on an old VHS player,

anytime,

anywhere,

I want.

Death is a funny thing--

curious.

It never really ends things.

Just makes a retreat

into the corners,

waiting to leap out the shadows

and make its return.

The smell of that

moment,

embedded 

in my nostrils.

It's the reason why I learned

to hate hospitals.

I don't like the fluorescent

or the squeak-squeak

of the nurses' shoes,

or the soft lies 

spilling out of people's mouths,

tumbling from their lips,

in the moment 

when I needed the truth

of where eternity

would take 

me.

"A Million Times Hotter Than The Sun" Poem by V.G. Grace

A Million Times Hotter Than the Sun

Half-bitter

memories

collide

with

future gains

and losses.

Winds

are blowing

past

on the way

to 

unfamiliar

climates;

land

I see

asleep

and awake.

Breathing

corresponds

with the thumping

of my heart

in my chest--

and I take rememberance

of everything

that's been done
none too lightly,

no,

not lightly

at all.

Heat

fills

this bone

and

flesh,

while

I listen to

erratic

heart beats.

Different heat

from summer,

fills me

with half-blended

combinations

of

knowledge

and

expectation.

Tells

of who I am

and damn well

want to be--

burning

in a way

that's part eternal,

part mystery,

and

all my

own.

Last part

is energy,

to move
   within my present,

and towards the

years

ahead.

                                                              

My Thoughts as a Writer

I often feel that my mind overflows with ideas. There are always new worlds to explore in the literary field. Unique perspectives. Fantastic themes. Exciting opportunities to share pieces of your mind, heart...and soul.

I've read a lot of novels of a mix of genres; science fiction, thriller and suspense, mystery, historical fiction, etc. All of these works have made an impression on me, inspired me, and some have even gone far in changing my outlook on life itself.A few of the books that have moved me as both a reader AND a writer are "I Am Legend" by Richard Matheson, "Toyer" by Gardner McKay, and the cornerstone of my reading experience and my own personal awakening as a writer who wants to make a difference in my work..."The Handmaid's Tale" by Margaret Atwood.

                                                       

                                                      

                                                       

Books that take my mind and heart to places I was not expecting, have been a special part of my existence since I was seven years old. Studying the worlds crafted, the protagonists, their hearts, minds, and motivations, was a constant passion and joy as I went from one book to the other.

What makes a story good? What makes a story gripping? What makes a character a person that you identify with and genuinely care about? What moves the plot further, taking it from one gradual step to another, building it into something powerful, grand and...unforgettable?



This is what I try to explore and analyze in my reading and my writing. Two of the biggest inspirations in the literary world who have helped to shape my perception of the construct of 'fiction' itself are Rod Serling, creator of the Twilight Zone, and Stephen King, who of course is a juggernaut amongst not only writers, but creators as a whole.


Writing for me, is a personal journey...it takes you out of the often dull realities of life, the mundane every-day details, and is something that gives you unlimited power.

Why do I use the word 'power'? Because ever since I started writing seriously, and realized this was a path I wanted to follow, I've felt more personally empowered than ever before. There is something inherently freeing about creating landscapes, new realities, and characters, (in a way, entirely new human beings--those who may not exist in real life, but are very much alive in your and the reader's imaginations).



The power and the freedom to create exciting and intricate new realities is particularly true for two of my favorite genres: science fiction and horror.

As Stephen King once said, "Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win."

The light and the shadows that are within us all, the writer has this magnificent opportunity to throw into a jumble of words that are somehow gonna come together at some point, and fit into this one 'whole same'. Thoughts stewing in your head are gradually pieced together letter by letter, in a way that actually can affect other human beings.

To scare them, to thrill them, to excite them, maybe even to move them.

That is ENORMOUS to me!


With horror and science fiction, what I especially love about these genres, is that in the realm of fantasy, honest aspects of who we are, what make us human, with all of its messiness and complications, can be sharpened and enhanced into something, with the right writer, that worms its way into the recesses of your brain and stays there for some time.

Look at the characters in the film, "The Shining", based on King's seminal novel. It featured a struggling former alcoholic father, a strained but cautiously hopeful mother, and a confused, frightened little boy.

And just before I go on, I'm a fan of the 1997 Stephen Weber adaptation. I personally think it's the best version.

What made us give a damn about the Torrance family? What made them into three-dimensional, flesh and blood characters who we invested our time and emotional energy into watching? They weren't just a random family plunked down into the middle of a haunted house. They weren't 'stock characters' who could be interchanged with any number of middle-America stock characters to be used as the hapless victims of creepy ghouls.


You could just watch "13 Ghosts" if you wanted that.


The demons and haunts of "The Shining" didn't come from a shallow place of scare tactics. they weren't evil ghosties for the sake of shock and gore.

What made "The Shining" into the lasting horror masterpiece it was, was because it took from the classics of horror (the haunted house, the beleagured family, the creepy isolation) then proceeded to go past these tropes and shape them into something new. Every time I watch the film, either version actually (although this seems a LOT more readily apparent in the '97 remake), it is obvious that the internal torments (alcoholism, spectre of abuse), that were already haunting NOT only Jack Torrance but every single member of the family, were strengthening, fueling, the evil energy of the Overlook. Stephen King took these characters' real human battles and emotional trauma and intertwined that with the activity and atmosphere of a place. It makes me wonder if another family besides the Torrances, a happy family with no history of dysfunction, had become the caretakers of the hotel, what the outcome would've been?

Another example of humanity, first and foremost, being the cornerstone of truly GREAT horror, was Richard Matheson's 1954 classic of a man struggling to survive in an infected nightmare of a world...I Am Legend.


Robert Neville was a regular man plunged into an extraordinary set of circumstances. The memory of humanity, that's since disappeared because of a worldwide vampiric plague, was something that he's held onto for dear life even as the character evaded his former neighbors and scavenged for supplies in the desolate suburban neighborhood he lives in. One that became a special kind of "graveyard".

The core of this book is the struggle to maintain and preserve humanity---through the every-day little details of Robert Neville's life like sitting down and eating dinner, to showering and grooming himself even when many readers would probably be thinking to themselves that they'd be wallowing in their own filth or jumping off of the closest bridge.

Maintaining humanity, even in a small way, even in his desperate corner of the world, was treasured by Neville, and showed up not just in the details of his day-to-day existence but his attitude towards the disease that's created the hungry mutants stalking his doorstep each night.

In his spare time, the character read and researched, trying to understand the root of the disease that caused his old world to go extinct. Neville's manifestation of humanity was in his lingering, persistent unwillingness to accept total personal defeat.

I think Matheson does something very important with the plot and characters in I Am Legend; going back to what I mentioned about how an imaginative writer particularly has the opportunity to invent NEW realities in scifi and horror. It's on no better display than this book.




 Everyone's familiar with the tired vampire cliche of a dark, scary mansion, shape-shifting bats and Bela Lugosi hamming it up in a cape, but Matheson's spin on what makes a vampire function, takes on a whole new approach to the concept of death and immortality.

This is old-school writing at its finest. Fans of sparkling vamps need not apply--this was dark, haunting, powerful writing which mixed up the old tropes and finally threw them out the window.

"According to legend, they were invisible in mirrors, but he knew that was untrue. As untrue as the belief that they transformed themselves into bats. That was a superstition that logic plus observation had easily disposed of. It was equally foolish to believe that they could transform themselves into wolves. Without a doubt, there were vampire dogs; he had seen and heard them outside his house at night. But they were only dogs."

 By doing this, you look upon the vampires in a whole new light; you recognize their danger to Neville's existence, but you realize they were not evil. They were a desperate and pathetic lot who, in the end, (spoiler alert!), turned out to not even be Neville's ultimate threat.

"As he was pulling on his shirt, he heard Ben Cortman cry out, 'Come out, Neville!' "

"And that was all. After that, they all went away weaker, he knew, than when they had come. Unless he had attacked one of their own. They did that often. There was no union among them. Their need was their only motivation."

What ties these two stories together, one film version, one literary, and what makes them tales I am constantly amazed at, two authors managed to take two very extensively plumbed genres, 'the haunted house' and the 'vampire', flip it around, turn it inside out, and made us feel alllll of these emotions through it.

They are a couple of examples of the BEST kind of horror and scifi. It's the kind of storytelling I aspire to, my personal inspiration, and some of the best representation of art to me.

Through my writings on "Between The Shadows", I hope to share some of my own passion and art through storytelling. I hope you'll come along with me for the journey, and maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to make you feel a little something along the way too.