Submitting stories for Muse Mosaic was a very creative experience. For #200WT, Lara would choose two prompts each month to see what they will inspire. Occasionally, Lara and her genius will come up with a prompt that send my noodle into overdrive. These next few pages will feature the stories in multiple parts that Lara helped to inspire.
The first is a small sample from an idea I have to write a sequel to one of the greatest horror films of all time, and my undisputed No 1 favourite, John Carpenter’s, The THING! A remake of the 1952 classic, The Thing From Another World, Carpenter’s version set new standards on the horror genre and continues to terrify today. Released in 1982 it was dominated by the shadow of another alien flick, E,T, so it didn’t manage to do very well at the box office. However, its release on VHS home video saw it explode with popularity and instantly became a cult phenomenon.
I was only six years old when I saw it for the first time and it scared the living shit out of me! What was I doing watching a gory horror at that age? Simple. I was watching regular kids TV when my older brother shoved me aside and slammed a cassette into the tape machine. This happened a lot and I saw a whole bunch of stuff I aught not to have had at that age. He didn’t care that I was still in the room as the action began to pick up, and I was doing well until the dog’s head split open like a banana. For the next hour or so I was under my bed covers nearly convulsing with terror, convinced this thing was already inside me and was gonna burst out of my chest at any moment.
It gave me gloriously morbid dreams for the next ten years until I bought it on DVD and forced myself to watch it past the dog scene. By the end of the film my life long fandom was assured.
Ever since, me and millions the world over, have wanted to see a sequel that sadly will never happen, which is a good thing in a way as J,C’s version will remain untainted forever more. There was that pre-make in 2011, a decent and honest attempt I thought, but didn’t come near to living up to J,C’s timeless masterpiece.
Like many others, I wondered what could possibly happen next. An idea formed in my mind and one day I’ll sit my ass down and produce a novel based on what I believe the next chapter could be.
The following entry for #200WT is a snippet of a scene that happens in my story just prior to the climax. It was submitted under the prompt of Soft Tears.
The THING. Stolen Heart Part 1
After locking his wife in the quarantine cell and smashing the lab in a violent emotional rage he finally managed to calm himself down. He looked over to his wife slapping the glass yelling to be let out before the infected rat behind her managed to attack.
He looked at her, his face wet with tears as he realised she was no longer his wife and wondered how long it had been. Her desperation to be let out was just a show. The rat won’t attack because it has no reason to; they’re both the same. He puts his hands over hers on the thick glass and looks longingly and sorrowfully into her fake eyes. The panic on her face drops and she stands still. He knows. He cries as a man who has lost his love, then slowly walks over to the airlock door. He punches in a code and it releases, with a loud hiss it opens and he steps inside, closing it behind him. The inner door opens and he steps into the cell. She stands still simply watching him. He knew full well he was committing suicide but he no longer cared.
The THING. Stolen Heart Part 2
She seamed perfect in every detail. “Why?” he cried. She stayed silent. “Why her?” A strange hissing sound came from within her. “No!” he said, “Don’t do that, not yet, please.” The sound stopped and he held her face. “…How much of her is left?” he begged.
“….Nothing,” she said.
“Can you give her back to me?”
“….No.” His heart broke. His wife was dead, standing before him as an imitation. He grabbed her shirt and ripped it open, stripped her naked. He studied her body, every mole was there, the faint scar from her operation as a child, the cute freckles around her nipples; everything was there in perfect detail. He stood back as though to admire her for the last time. “Give her back to me!” he pleaded.
“….I can’t.” it was her voice but void of emotion, her body yet absent from her spirit. He cried as he did at his mother’s funeral. Moments later he took off his shirt, undid his pants and stood as naked as she was. “If you can’t give her back, then at least give me a chance to say goodbye.” He embraced her, and kissed her passionately.
The THING. Stolen Heart Part 3
She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him back with the same actions. To him it was just like it was when they made love, the way she felt, the way she tasted, the way she responded to his every move, it all seamed the same, yet something was missing. He held her tightly, pressing her breasts against his chest. The hiss from within her sounded as her arms and hands merged with his back, her breasts burst open with writing tentacles that wrapped around his torso; her legs were melting onto his and her chest ripped open. The flesh of her face was consuming his head as more snake like tentacles covered him in a bloody mass of alien matter.
Dr Manning entered the room looking for them both, eager to start the test on the rats. He was horrified to see the monstrous blob of twisted limbs and distorted features of what used to be two human beings. A vulgar version of her face immerged from a rip in its side and he immediately set the cell to incinerate. The writhing mass screamed as it burned.
There was only four left now, he didn’t trust any of them.
Welcome to my madness. 