Summer Storms
And sinking into the Southern Gothic.
It’s funny, isn’t it? Watching autumn take the place of summer. At least for me, there’s a sort of helplessness to it. A sense of sadness in seeing a time with strength of heat and courage of time growing weak.
I accepted summer was on its last legs when a storm arrived a few weeks back. I’ve always seen storms as a sort of reset. An opportunity to recalibrate the mind. If there’s ever something that puts you in your place it’s lightning that ignites a dark room and thunder so loud it rattles the bones of your house.
This one was no different. I was walking home when I saw it. It looked angry. Purposeful. It was also kind enough to let me get inside before it unleashed its fury.
But then it settles. The rain stops and autumn arrives, as it always does.
A season with its own strength.
A season with its own charm.
A fresh start.
I hope summer’s been good to you. I hope autumn will be better.
I didn’t expect to enjoy watching The Devil All The Time as much as I did.
For those unfamiliar, it’s a story set in the town of Knockemstiff, a real place in Ohio with tales of its name fittingly rooted in everything from violent brawls over moonshine to preachers telling women to knock their unfaithful husbands stiff.
In The Devil All The Time, it’s a place filled with sinister characters, brought together by interconnected narratives. These narratives span different generations and horrors, and all tie back to main character Arvin.
So much happens in this equally exhausting and exhilarating ride that you understand this truly is a tale about the Devil, all the time.
But apart from its stellar storytelling, atmospheric setting and examination of religious people in Godless situations, I saw The Devil All The Time as a love letter to the Southern Gothic (despite being set in the Midwest).
To a genre that’s long been known for its take on the dark, grotesque and deeply disturbed, and a genre I thank for its impact on me as a writer, reader and creative. I’ve spent many evenings this month sinking back into the Southern Gothic. I’m glad The Devil All The Time appeared when it did.
I’m still trying to figure out what works when the frustration of writer’s block hits. While prompts don’t always loosen the words when you’re stuck in the depths of a project, it can be a good exercise in breaking away to get something on paper.
The other night, I thought I’d scroll through my camera roll, stop on a photo I’d taken and write a piece of flash fiction with one rule: don’t go over 150 words. You can read what resulted below.
This isn’t a place you find. It’s a place that finds you.
One moment you’ll be walking alone, the next it’ll appear behind you like a neon lighthouse. A beacon in the dark. A home when you least expect it.
Like most its walls are sturdy and stained with conversation. Its kitchen is filled with forgotten oil and its entrance is littered with trampled paper and receipts.
But where this is usually a place with people; those who work there, its owners or visitors forcing milkshakes through straws, this one remains empty. Waiting. Aching only for you.
So when you’re next alone, look behind you. If you see it, enter. Take a seat. Open yourself up to it. The diner will know what you need.
The best book I read this month? Probably Josh Malerman’s Goblin. I have a weakness for stories set in small towns that reveal some sort of dark underbelly or sinister secret page by page.
Goblin offers that, leading readers through the place’s past and present, introducing us to six characters through six novellas. It shows that, while Goblin as a town is interesting, a place where it’s always raining, with a cemetery full of bodies buried standing up, it’s the people that make Goblin so captivating.
Where one story talks of magicians and dirty magic, another talks of a man going to extreme measures to ensure he’s never scared to death. The introduction does a good job of getting its teeth into you, and it’s pretty seamless from there on out.
I won’t say more, in case you want to read, but recommend giving it a go.
Before you go
I live in other corners of the internet. Every Tuesday, I post new micro-fiction on TikTok. I also attempt to keep an Instagram updated and tweet every now and then.
When they’re ready, I post short horror stories to Reddit. A recent one is called AGATHA, which you can read a snippet of below:
By the end of your first meeting with Agatha you would have learnt two things. First, she was born where she believed she was going to die; in the room at the top of the stairs. Second, she never used her kitchen to make tea. Instead, she would walk past it to the top of those stairs and reappear minutes later with a steaming cup. No one knew why and no one questioned it. It was just something she did.
/ JW