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<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
When we last saw Jack and Shawn<\/a>, they were visiting a roadside attraction that promised lizards (and dinosaurs!). By projecting a distracting illusion into his partner\u2019s mind, Jack was able to help Shawn win a bet with the proprietor, securing free tickets to the \u201cdinosaur safari\u201d tour.<\/span><\/p>\n With a show of great reluctance, the shopkeeper handed over our free tickets to the tour. \u201cJoin the paying customers over there,\u201d he said, pointing to an unmarked exit where Barb and Kenneth waited.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The photocopied tickets were cut the size of dollar bills, and a thick font announced the \u201cDinosaur Safari.\u201d An outline of a dinosaur skull filled the right half of the ticket. Someone had taken the trouble to draw scales on the skull, and had shaded it by hand with a green pencil. The paper was thin and felt damp.<\/span><\/p>\n Despite the spectacle of the rattlesnake wager, the reptile cages seemed mostly empty, lowering any expectations for the \u201csafari\u201d to come. I expected the shopkeeper to usher us past a few crude dioramas rejected from a Natural History museum, reading encyclopedia facts off index cards and mispronouncing any dinosaur name longer than two syllables.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Imagine my surprise when a separate tour guide showed up — \u201cTroy,\u201d according to the name-patch on his denim mechanic\u2019s jacket. He took us outside and led us along a rocky footpath that stretched behind the store. After a while the path took a steep dip. The air began to feel more tropical as we descended.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cA bit of a hike,\u201d the guide said by way of apology. \u201cThis isolation explains how the prehistoric animals survived here. They\u2019re so far out of the way, they were protected from the scrutiny of curiosity seekers.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n A prepared speech. An older relative probably wore the \u201cTroy\u201d jacket a decade earlier; more recently, a weekend guide could borrow the jacket and script to conduct the matinee tours.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThe air you feel now creates a kind of hothouse effect,\u201d he continued. \u201cHelps plants to grow, keeping all the moisture in the soil. And the lizards grow big in this spot, too. Real big.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI believe you.\u201d Jack\u2019s nod of support to the guide contained no trace of irony. Usually he assumed the role of skeptic, and I attributed Jack\u2019s current gullibility to the guide\u2019s broad shoulders and the impressive arm muscles beneath the tight-fitting sleeves of his jacket.<\/span><\/p>\n I struggled not to roll my eyes. Next thing, I expected, we\u2019d stumble across some pre-arranged setup that \u201csupported\u201d the guide\u2019s claims.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n On cue, the guide spread his arms wide to keep anyone in our small group from rushing around a bend in the path. \u201cWatch your step.\u201d He lowered his arms slowly, then waved us onward single file. \u201cLooks like one of our larger residents passed this way recently.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Recently? The impression in the ground obviously wasn\u2019t from the Cretaceous period, but it hadn\u2019t happened in the past twenty-four hours, either.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI think he\u2019s right, Shawn. This is just how big a footprint we\u2019d get from a grown Tyrannosaurus. Or an especially big Allosaurus, maybe.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n The effect was obviously hardened into the ground, more of a carving than a convincing footprint. Of course, it made no sense that there\u2019d be only <\/span>one.<\/span><\/i> There should be another depression nearby, indicating the measure of the tremendous lizard\u2019s stride. Also, maybe a rut dragging between the spread footprints, caused by the dinosaur\u2019s tail.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n If I were planning the attraction, that\u2019s how I would have done it.<\/span><\/p>\n I made that comment to Jack, normal voice, and he shushed me. He didn\u2019t want me to upset our guide\u2026which almost made me want to speak louder, listing more implausibilities.<\/span><\/p>\n Because there were plenty of them, especially when we reached a large rusted shed that I assumed was the final destination of the \u201csafari.\u201d We stepped inside a simulation of a museum alcove, with edge-curled posters of dinosaur movies on the walls, plastic copies of fossils glued to wooden pedestals, and the action-figure dioramas I\u2019d anticipated. I noticed dust on the back-plates of a Stegosaurus model, and a strand of cobweb stretched from one horn of a Triceratops to the spear of an attacking caveman — a clear historical anachronism, perhaps intended as a subliminal hint that \u201creal\u201d dinosaurs could exist, impossible and unpublicized, on the grounds of this off-road attraction.<\/span><\/p>\n As Troy directed the four of us to different exhibits, he continued his prepared remarks. I found it hard to listen, not because his comments were so inaccurate, but because the wind had picked up, whistling through the metal slats of the rusted shelter. The forceful breeze didn\u2019t cool us inside the shed. I felt like I was standing under a bathroom\u2019s hand dryer.<\/span><\/p>\n And didn\u2019t dinosaur bones all look alike — especially fake ones? Troy took us to a third set of random fossils. It looked like someone had dropped a porcelain teapot and glued the shattered pieces to a board.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI used to daydream about stuff like this when I was a kid,\u201d Jack said. \u201cMaybe I\u2019d dig in our backyard and find a bone, and it would turn out I\u2019d discovered some new dinosaur species.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s cute,\u201d the guide responded.<\/span><\/p>\n Jack\u2019s face flushed red. He\u2019s so pale-skinned, it\u2019s really too easy to tell when he\u2019s embarrassed.<\/span><\/p>\n After we\u2019d finished with the exhibits, the guide offered each of us a small paper cup. He extracted a thermos from the mesh side-pocket of his backpack. \u201cA free drink comes with the tour, courtesy of my Uncle Willis. Fermented in his own backyard still. I should warn you, it\u2019s got a bit of a kick.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n The warning didn\u2019t deter any of us, though the brew\u2019s strong, moldy aroma might have. Normally I would have declined, but I felt like I needed some fortification for our hike back to the store. I drank quickly, worried the liquid would eat through the cup like acid.<\/span><\/p>\n The kick was pretty powerful. I saw Jack trying not to sputter and cough. Of the other couple, the woman waved a hand over her mouth as if trying to put out a fire. Like Jack, her partner tried to play it cool, but a quick choking fit broke the guy\u2019s calm demeanor.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou get used to it,\u201d Troy said before tossing back his own cupful.<\/span><\/p>\n There might have been more in the thermos, but nobody requested a refill.<\/span><\/p>\n #<\/span><\/p>\n I was ready to head back, when Troy slid a large cooler chest from beneath the shed\u2019s central diorama. He spun a three-wheel combination lock then opened the chest.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cNow, this part is where I usually tell people about the dangers of the tour, if you\u2019re pregnant or have a bad back or you\u2019re a tiny little kid. There\u2019s a shaded bench you can wait under until the rest of us get back, or you\u2019re welcome to head back to the store. But you all look the right age, and seem fit enough.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Oh God, there\u2019s <\/span>more?<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n Jack nodded, said \u201cSure.\u201d His voice had grown even deeper, like he thought he was on some TV sports challenge.<\/span><\/p>\n Then he saw what was in the trunk: small, inflatable life jackets. The guide handed them to me and Jack, then to the Barbie-and-Ken couple. Next, he offered to store any of our valuables in the chest while we were on the trail. \u201cI\u2019ve also got some plastic bags here, if you want to zip up your cameras to keep them safe.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWe should have brought the insta-matic,\u201d I said, but I noticed Jack\u2019s face was unusually pale, even for him. He was staring at the opposite end of the shed, where Troy had pulled open a back door.<\/span><\/p>\n Turned out I was wrong about the wind noise. The sound was actually caused by a rushing river that passed behind the shed, winding away in the distance between tall rocks and overhanging trees.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n A large inflatable raft waited outside the door, attached by a rope to a small wooden pier.<\/span><\/p>\n #<\/span><\/p>\n (Celia, I don\u2019t need to remind you how much Jack hated water.<\/span><\/p>\n But, he didn\u2019t want to appear less manly in front of the guide.<\/span><\/p>\n On one level, I thought: this is poetic justice for the trick Jack played on me with the snake. The cosmos enacting revenge on my behalf. At the same time, I knew how bad Jack\u2019s phobia was, and felt sorry for him.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n So I tried to help him quit the tour gracefully.)<\/span><\/p>\n #<\/span><\/p>\n I offered a slow protest, ready to express how I hadn\u2019t expected the course to be so physically demanding, that maybe the heat was getting to me, or the grain alcohol, so Jack and I should head back to the convenience shop.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I put my hand to my forehead, assuming a lady-in-distress pose, and began a low exhale that Jack would instantly recognize as my trademark sigh of exasperation — he\u2019d triggered it himself many times, on our journeys together.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Before I\u2019d let all the breath out, before I could begin my planned litany of excuses, Jack had slipped his yellow lifejacket over his head and pulled the straps tight to his torso. He slapped the jacket I held slack, indicating I should follow suit.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re doing this,\u201d he said through clenched teeth.<\/span><\/p>\n I wasn\u2019t sure why. Perhaps he maintained his lingering, semi-comical desire to \u201cimpress\u201d our handsome tour guide. Or there might be something about this absurd place that struck a nerve with Jack: the ridiculous store with its fast-striking snake; the pathetic menagerie of death-bed chameleons; the fabricated pre-tour with a sculpted footprint, historically inaccurate dioramas, and a jumble of plaster-cast fossils. Was there something here that Jack\u2019s instincts recognized as authentic? Some reason he\u2019d chose to risk a fresh-water rafting ride?<\/span><\/p>\n Well, it was his choice. I was fine for the trip, might at least get a bit of zip-line thrill out of it, considering the unlikely chance of any wildlife excitement.<\/span><\/p>\n I put on my lifejacket, let it hang loose over my chest, and followed Troy through the door and into the waiting raft.<\/span><\/p>\n #<\/span><\/p>\n In roller coaster lore, the rear car is considered the most exciting. The position adds a tantalizing delay to the drop, and the car shifts more dramatically, as if threatening to twist itself off the rail. On our tour, Jack\u2019s hesitance would likely put him at the back end of the raft, but I pushed ahead of the other couple and took a spot at the middle, coaxing Jack to take position beside me. The center of gravity would make for a calmer ride.<\/span><\/p>\n Not that the river current would be that rough — as I\u2019m sure Jack was telling himself at the edge of the raft, retreating into a mantra of calm, deep breaths. Distracting himself, maybe, listing a mental catalogue of dinosaurs he wouldn\u2019t see during our fruitless adventure.<\/span><\/p>\n Jack almost fell over getting in. Troy was busy acting the stereotypical gentleman, holding Barb\u2019s arm as she lowered into the raft, and Jack was like a kitten startled in a filled bathtub, his first foot surprised by the springy response of the inflatable raft, and the next foot overcompensating into a trampoline effect that nearly bounced the rest of us into the water.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhoa, whoa,\u201d Troy said, dropping the lady\u2019s arm and rushing to steady Jack in the raft. \u201cTake it easy there, sport.\u201d Here, our guide adopted a tone intended to control overeager children. The fact that he wrapped this particular oversized child in a brief, steadying bear hug might have offered some consolation to Jack\u2019s wounded pride.<\/span><\/p>\n As we all secured ourselves in our seats, Troy went about the business of untying the mooring rope and preparing to launch the raft. I let my gaze drift over the river, judging the distance from shore to shore, speculating on the water\u2019s depth. The opposite bank seemed an easy swimming distance — about a hundred feet. The water itself was muddy, and small islands of entangled twigs dotted the surface. Since I couldn\u2019t see the bottom, I dropped one hand overboard and dragged my fingers through, dispersing a cloud of mud and sand. The gritty water was cooler than I expected, and when I lifted my hand the breeze on my palm felt refreshing.<\/span><\/p>\n When I again turned my attention to the opposite shore, it seemed farther away. Troy hadn\u2019t lowered himself into the raft yet, but we were moving, the bank receding on both sides, the mooring rope dangling loose from the dock. Troy stood on the wooden pier, waving his arms as if he could row the raft from a distance, as if he wasn\u2019t shrinking to a doll, then a dot, as our unpiloted raft rushed adrift to the center of a wide river, the waters frothing into peaks of brown foam, and the shores receding farther and farther away, so we might as well be stranded in the middle of the ocean, sun beating down from overhead, waves getting rougher, the raft beginning to sway with the sea\u2019s violent motion.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cDamn it, Jack!\u201d Because I realized that I\u2019d been rocking back and forth where I sat on the raft, which was steady and still beside the pier. My motion had been prompted by Jack\u2019s anxieties, a dizzying vision that he\u2019d unconsciously projected into my mind.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d Jack shouted his indignant response, then added in a whisper: \u201cI\u2019m not doing anything.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Barb tapped me lightly on the shoulder. \u201cDo you mind holding still? Thanks.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n This was going to be a long ride.<\/span><\/p>\n To be continued…<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n #<\/p>\n I hadn\u2019t written much of that story past the title, \u201cUnion,\u201d and it remained in a file with other story ideas. Several years later, I started a different story, and the \u201cUnion\u201d idea came back to me. The difference this time is that I set the couple\u2019s adventures in the past, and added the adopted daughter, Celia. That story, \u201cConversion Therapy,\u201d began like this:<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou weren\u2019t supposed to find that picture, Celia. Certainly, there\u2019s a story behind it. There\u2019s a story behind all the souvenirs I saved from that year of travels with your other father\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n Once I had this story idea, I started rethinking the earlier one, and decided I might have a series of short story adventures I could write. I wrote two more adventures (\u201cBeneath their Shoulders\u201d and \u201cThe Manikin\u2019s Revenge\u201d), and at some point I realized the family connection with Celia could provide a larger frame story connecting the adventures. As I wrote that frame, I realized I needed an origin story, to show when Jack first discovered his mind-projecting powers: I went back to the idea of \u201cUnion,\u201d and expanded it into a story I called \u201cBreadcrumbs\u201d — four adventures in the ’80s, and a modern-day frame story comprising my first novel, <\/span>Odd Adventures with your Other Father.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n The initial plan was for a single, self-contained book, and <\/span>Odd Adventures <\/span><\/i>works that way. But even as I was finishing that book, I knew I had more stories to tell with the same characters (and I even annoyed a few readers by referencing adventures that hadn\u2019t been written\u2026yet).\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n But there was one big problem with further books in the series: I\u2019d deliberately made Jack\u2019s powers limited, so that the images he created only affected his partner, Shawn. I intended these limitations as a metaphor for a close relationship, when a couple essentially shuts out the rest of the world. There were only a handful of ways Jack\u2019s limited powers could help solve an adventure (sending a distress signal, breaking a spell, encouraging a specific action from Shawn), and I think I exhausted all of them in the first book. What to do next?<\/span><\/p>\n As I was thinking about that limitation, I wrote a brief side-story called \u201cBoardwalk Thrill Ride,\u201d where Jack\u2019s powers got a temporary boost from a haunted house ride (based on Trimper\u2019s Haunted House in Ocean City, Maryland: <\/span>https:\/\/trimpershauntedhouse.com\/<\/span><\/a>). From there, I got the idea that some other settings might amplify Jack\u2019s power, adding more variation to the possible adventures. \u201cBoardwalk Thrill Ride\u201d became the first location in <\/span>Haunted Attraction with your Other Father<\/span><\/i> (the others being an actual haunted house, a haunted theater, and a replica of Stonehenge in Michigan).\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n![\"Dinosaur](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/dinofarm.jpg?resize=197%2C350&ssl=1\")
Haunted Attractions with your Other Father\u00a0<\/i><\/a>by Norman Prentiss is the sequel to his\u00a0Odd Adventures with your Other Father<\/a>,\u00a0<\/i>and continues the horror\/fantasy road trip adventures of Jack and Shawn as they fight monsters and homophobia in the \u201980s. Cemetery Dance is proud to publish this new novel (with an e-book version now on sale at Amazon for 0.99!<\/a>), and to celebrate we\u2019re serializing a new novella featuring the characters from the books!<\/p>\nTHE CANYON OF TERRIBLE LIZARDS, PART 3
\n<\/b>(A HAUNTED ATTRACTION WITH YOUR OTHER FATHER)<\/span>
\nBY NORMAN PRENTISS<\/span><\/h4>\n![\"dinosaur](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/dinoteeth.jpg?resize=532%2C309&ssl=1\")
<\/p>\nAuthor\u2019s Note<\/b><\/span><\/h4>\n
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For this installment, I thought I\u2019d say a bit about my experience with writing a series. I know a lot of authors plan a trilogy or whatnot in advance, but my initial plan was simply to tell a single story. About a decade ago, before gay marriage was legal across the US, I had the idea for a story about a male couple, closeted and not permitted to marry, who received some supernatural compensation — a mental connection, when they were denied a legal one. Since I\u2019m a horror writer, I added a catch to the couples\u2019 ability to share mental images: the glamours only went in one direction, and the images all had to be scary instead of pleasant.<\/span><\/p>\n