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Hi there. I\u2019m Keith\u2026 or \u201cK. Edwin\u201d if you prefer. I\u2019m a middle school English teacher, a writer, and like any perfectly normal fan of horror these days, another random guy who is totally obsessed with <\/span>Cemetery Dance Magazine<\/span><\/i>. Ok, maybe I take it a bit further than most\u2026 I actually own every single copy (but that\u2019s a story for <\/span>another post<\/span><\/a>).\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Exhumed <\/span><\/i>is my humble attempt to read and review every short story and novel excerpt ever published by <\/span>CD<\/span>. <\/span><\/i>In their 34+ years of publication, there have been 577 (and counting!) pieces spread out over <\/span>77<\/span> issues. Since each <\/span>Exhumed<\/span><\/i> post covers just two stories (one \u201cold\u201d and one \u201cnew\u201d), I think I\u2019m going to be doing this for a while. I sure hope you\u2019ll join me along the way, whether that means reading each piece as I review it (assuming you can find them all) or just taking it all in while I do the hard work and wax poetic with my observations. Either way, grab your shovel and dig in. There\u2019s no telling what we\u2019ll unearth together.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n FYI: If you\u2019d like to read along with me, <\/span>here\u2019s the current CD catalog<\/span><\/a>. And for a comprehensive list of issues 1-75, you\u2019ll want to check out Michael P. Sauers\u2019 <\/span>Cemetery Dance Magazine Index<\/span><\/a>.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Hello again, super fans! This <\/span>installment of <\/span>Exhumed<\/span><\/i>, will feature works by <\/span>William Relling Jr. & Jason Sechrest.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Relling\u2019s story, \u201cNight Game,\u201d appears in CD#2 (1989).<\/span><\/p>\n Secrest\u2019s piece, titled \u201cOrange Grove Court,\u201d is from CD#77 (2019).\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Ok then.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Let\u2019s get to it\u2026\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n THE OLD: \u201cNight Game\u201d<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n Bart Bowers is in his sophomore year as a professional baseball player, and despite an excellent rookie season, his abysmal first half of this year plus an even worse attitude has caused his manager to send him down to the minor\u00a0 leagues. His agent goes oddly quiet when Bowers explains he\u2019s being sent to the farm team in Painesville, Ohio, then tells him to work hard to get back to the big leagues quickly.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n In Painesville, the ballfield, clubhouse, manager, other players, coaches, and grounds crew are all dingy, old, and far below Bowers\u2019 expectations. But worst among them is the bat boy, an old geezer named Granny Walker. Oddly, Bowers quickly noticed that everyone treated the old man like he was the owner of the team.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n In his third game with the team, Bowers lined his first hit, a triple, and celebrates by popping to his feet and giving the finger to the grandstands and both dugouts.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Over the next few games, Bowers refuses to listen to the manager, the coaches, and especially not Granny Walker, who was the only one to notice the hitch in Bowers\u2019 swing. In fact, Bowers threw a ball at the bat boy\u2019s head after one game. The other players told him not to mess with Granny\u2026 and didn\u2019t he notice how Granny was only ever at the night games and made it to every one even though he didn\u2019t join the team on the bus when they went on the road?\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n His last night playing baseball\u2026 his last night doing <\/span>anything<\/span><\/i>\u2026 came when he tossed a bat at a heckling fan and the man\u2019s skull. Having given him three weeks to straighten himself out (and hooking a fast lawsuit in the face), his manager told him he was done. But Bowers didn\u2019t care. He was happy to leave.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Stepping out of the shower 40 minutes later, he was surprised to see the clubhouse was deserted and a cold breeze was blowing a fetid, decaying odor through it.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Bowers looked up to see Granny Walker. Offering up one final insult, Bowers turned to his locker to change, but he never made it. Granny glided over and his canines had suddenly grown a half-inch in length. His realization of the truth came too late.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The final line of the story reads:\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The team did have ways of burying guys like him. They had Granny Walker. Granny Walker, who was no ordinary batboy. <\/span><\/p>\n Granny was a <\/span>vampire <\/span><\/i>batboy.<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n MY GRADE<\/b>: B- EXAMPLE #1: <\/span>\u201cA .293 average, twenty-two homers, seventy-nine ribbies?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n That\u2019s a pretty good player! And thanks, Relling, for including \u201cribbies\u201d in the dialogue because no real ballplayer ever says \u201cRuns Batted In.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n EXAMPLE #2: <\/span>\u201cBowers had gone oh-for-four, left a total of seven men stranded in scoring position\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n That\u2019s\u2026 really bad. By the way, for those of you who aren\u2019t a fan of the sport, \u201cscoring position\u201d means the runner is on either 2nd or 3rd base, so thanks, Relling, for letting me to do the math and realize that in three of those four at-bats, Bowers had had runners on <\/span>both<\/span><\/i> 2nd <\/span>and<\/span><\/i> 3rd base\u2026 and still did nothing. So, yeah\u2026 that\u2019s a really bad day at the plate.<\/span><\/p>\n So as I was saying, I love baseball and these subtle, accurate details, totally made my day.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n As for the actually <\/span>story<\/span><\/i>, well\u2026 it isn\u2019t <\/span>bad<\/span><\/i>, but also it\u2019s not that great. It\u2019s, you know, okay. Decent. A little fun, but not a lot. I lost a bit of the joy when Relling felt the need to say that Granny was a vampire with that last five-word sentence. I get that he was doing a little play on words (batboy + vampire bat = vampire batboy), but it was not only unnecessary, it was a little awkward, too. And that italicized emphasis on the word \u2018vampire\u2019 was really over the top. I would have preferred the story ended with the previous sentence.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Otherwise, it was a fun story. The idea of delegating a pain-in-the-ass major league baseball player to the minor leagues when they start to do poorly is common practice, but to threaten them with actual death via monster is a fun new approach and nice touch.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n There was one thing that stood out in a negative way, however, and you\u2019ll have to excuse me while I step up on my political soapbox for a bit. There is one unfortunate phrase in this story which has not aged well. About halfway through, we are introduced to the third base coach. His name is Roosevelt \u201cspook\u201d Robinson, and in the second sentence after we meet him he is described as a \u201cmanagement brown-nosing Oreo.\u201d Yikes. My take on the scene is that Relling was attempting to tap in to Bowers\u2019 perspective, and as such would have been exactly the kind of guy with this kind of racist thoughts. The problem is that Relling doesn\u2019t give the out we need to completely absolve him of this literary crime. He doesn\u2019t have Bowers say it aloud, and he doesn\u2019t tell us it\u2019s Bowers\u2019 thoughts. It\u2019s a simple descriptor coming from the the 3rd person omniscient perspective\u2026 ie: Relling himself. <\/span><\/p>\n I am not naive, though. Times have definitely changed and any number of authors — very likely Relling among them — who may have once used phrases like this wouldn\u2019t dream of it today. And I don\u2019t necessarily believe that\u2019s simply because they are trying to stay politically correct in the modern world. I also believe there has been a real public awakening and general learning in that regard. As artists and essayists and public figures talk about these things, it is my contention that people really do learn and the public consciousness changes as well. I\u2019m not trying to give Relling a pass for writing that phrase in his story, I\u2019m just trying to put it into context. This story was published in 1989, after all, and if we took the time to look at <\/span>any<\/span><\/i> form of artistic expression — books, movies, songs, etc. etc. etc. — we will definitely find <\/span>many<\/span><\/i> more examples from what would have been considered mainstream publications. As such, I didn\u2019t let Relling\u2019s use of the phrase here drop my grade for his story. Instead, I am trying to let it stand for a sign of its times.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n THE NEW: \u201cOrange Grove Court\u201d<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n Susan:\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Susan Walsh is glad when her husband, Gerry, leaves for a business trip. It\u2019s been six months since their young son, Tommy, went missing, and she simply can\u2019t take how perfect he\u2019s been in that time. The more Gerry has obsessed with flyers and searches and interviews and rallies, the more alone Susan has felt. The worst of it, she has decided, are all the well-wishing neighbors. The do-gooders. They overwhelmed her at first and have never seemed to go away since. With Gerry gone, all she wants to do is escape. Divorce has crossed her mind, as has running away and starting over with an entirely new life.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Bryan:\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Bryan Rogers is one of Susan\u2019s neighbors. He is 17, totally into all manner of sports, and is laying naked on his bed waiting for enough nightfall to come over Orange Grove Court so that he can again sneak out and visit old Mrs. Weaver\u2019s front yard. He had stumbled upon it two weeks prior when he\u2019d hit his lucky baseball there and hasn\u2019t been able to get his mind off it since. Tonight, he has decided to go back, and this time he will finish what he had aborted the first time. As he waits, he throws the baseball back and forth between his hands. The baseball reminds him of the only time his father ever showed the tenderness of a loving touch\u2026 when Bryan hit that ball for a game-winning grand slam last season, his father had put his big hands on Bryan\u2019s shoulders and told him how proud he was. The baseball had been a good luck charm ever since.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Gladys:\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Gladys Lipschvitz can see nearly all of Orange Grove Court from her guest bedroom window, a convenient fact which she routinely exploits. Each night, while her husband Lenny watches television, Gladys settles down by that window with a cocktail and a set of binoculars by her side. From there she observes many of what her neighbors undoubtedly believe are private moments, including when young Bryan Rogers air dries himself after a shower. And, by the way, she believes that he knows she is watching him. Recently, Gladys has been fretting over Susan and Gerry Walsh and what happened to their little boy. Gladys has tried to speak to Susan on several occasions about what she thought she\u2019d seen from her window one evening six months ago. [And the word \u201c<\/span>Squeezed!<\/span><\/i>\u201d is dropped here in its own paragraph without further explanation]. What she\u2019d seen was the Walsh parents bickering in their house, oblivious of little Tommy playing with his trucks in the front yard. Having turned her binoculars to the house\u2026 she looked back and Tommy was gone\u2026 but she soon saw him outside the Weaver house. [This is all the information readers are given].<\/span><\/p>\n Agnes:\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Agnes Weaver is 86 years old and loves tending her flower garden, which is the most striking physical aspect in all of Orange Grove Court. It was even featured in several magazines over the years. The most prized of all Agnes\u2019 plants is the ivy that covers the house. Much of her love for her dearly departed husband has gone instead to the ivy since his passing, and all that love and attention shows. When young Brian Rodgers walks past on his way to school, however, Agnes shows her darker side. She eyes him in a manner that cuts off his \u201cGood morning\u201d to her. She had nearly told Brian\u2019s parents about the perverted thing he\u2019d recently done, but had decided she didn\u2019t like drawing attention to herself. Meanwhile, she thinks back to the first time the ivy had protected her. A midnight thief, that had been. Later, it became solicitors and neighborhood pets that went missing, always with a discovered collar on her lawn. She thinks of the little Walsh boy who went missing, and at just that moment she sees Susan Walsh, looking happy for the first time in months, driving away. Agnes is unaware that Susan has a trunk packed with suitcases and a one-way ticket to Orlando in her purse. Neither of them knows that Agnes also happens to be standing on the exact spot where little Tommy Walsh died.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Bryan:\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n We return to Bryan Rogers and see that he has snuck out of his house at 3 a.m. In his hand is his lucky baseball. He is clothed, but not for long. Gathering his courage (he had chickened out on both of the previous two nights) and already barefoot, Bryan removes his shirt, shorts, and underwear until he stands naked on Agnes Weaver\u2019s front lawn. He is not interested in entering Agnes\u2019 house. His desires are only for the ivy that clings to its exterior walls. He moves closer, inch by inch, until he is only a few feet away and the vines begin to stir. As the leaves flutter, his body — in particular his exposed manhood — responds in kind. A single vine reaches out to touch, then caress it. More vines engage, wrapping around his legs and his waist, pulling him forcefully against the wall. More vines grab his wrists, pinning him down. Bryan does not scream despite the pain. The embrace is worth it. Soon he is completely enveloped, wearing the vines like clothes. He is scared, and yet he feels protected. The last to be covered is his head. He takes one long, deep breath of pure joy before the vines begin to squeeze. Lightly at first, they soon begin to pulse tighter and tighter. Bryan opens his mouth to cry out, but vines race down his throat. They go up his nostrils; they implant into his brain. They pop his eyes, crush his bones, and squeeze still harder until there is nothing left to squeeze but for his heart, which the vines have saved for last.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Epilogue:\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Some time later, a realtor is showing a young couple a house for sale on Orange Grove Court. It is Mrs. Weaver\u2019s house, and both the young couple and the realtor comment on the beauty of the gardens she has left behind. In the paragraphs just prior to the very end of the story, readers are told that the couple will buy the house and will soon be pregnant with their first child. But before they leave that day the young wife notices two objects hiding beneath the bushes\u2026 a baseball and a bright yellow Tonka truck.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n MY GRADE<\/b>: A Other than these minor literary infractions, this story is nearly perfect. It\u2019s a wonderfully chilling horror tale rife with rich characters, a fair amount of symbolism, and tons of dread.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n First, Everyone in Orange Grove Court is affected by Mrs. Weaver\u2019s vines. Little Tommy Walsh was its first victim and his parents are thereby traumatized accordingly. Bryan Rogers voluntarily sacrifices himself to them in exchange for the physical and emotional pleasure — the love — it gives in return. Gladys Lipschvitz is plagued by what she thinks she saw there, and her husband has undoubtedly spent many a night alone in front of his TV in part because of the obsession Gladys has gained. Even the neighborhood\u2019s newest residents have a fate which will one day be tangled in their horrible embrace.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n But to write these tales by breaking them into 6 segments with effectively 6 different perspectives could easily create a disjointed, stop-and-start reading experience. This does not happen with Sechrest\u2019s piece. Instead, each of them blends smoothly into the next with realistic, relatable characters and frequent, palpable references to previous segments which help keep the whole storyline into perspective. With the exception of the repetition of Bryan, each section\/ scene introduces a new character and information about Orange Grove Court. Collectively, they paint a picture of a strange neighborhood highlighted by a refreshingly new kind of haunted house\u2026\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n This different take on the haunted house story is what most appealed to me in Sechrest\u2019s tale. Instead of a ghost, demon, or poltergeist possessing a <\/span>house<\/span><\/i> and scaring away and killing any would-be visitors, we have instead the <\/span>vines<\/span><\/i> surrounding and clinging to the house which are the monster, and only those who venture within its limited domain are in any danger. Moreover, rather than a deceased and restless spirit, these monstrous vines are born of Mrs. Weaver\u2019s love for them. Sechrest tells us Agnes\u2019 belief is that <\/span><\/p>\n It\u2019s simply a matter of serving that which serves you. Plants are living, breathing organisms. They\u2019re alive, just like you and me\u2026 And if you love them — <\/span>truly <\/span><\/i>love them — they will do all they can for you in return.<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n I<\/span>n the end, readers are left with a disconcerting feeling about Orange Grove Court and everyone that lives there, but especially Agnes Weaver. I propose that she is the true monster, not the vines at all.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n AUTHOR\u2019S INSIGHT!<\/span><\/i>: It\u2019s rare that I get to converse with the authors of these tales. <\/span><\/i>Cemetery Dance<\/span> has been around long enough that sadly, many of them have left us, so that train has forever passed. Most of the ones who are still around have never heard of me, of course. But for the few who have\u2026 well, those few can offer insights which I am more than happy to pass along. In the case of Mr. Sechrest, I\u2019ve had the pleasure of connecting with him online, and he told me a few interesting factoids about the creation of this story. First, it was his first real attempt at writing short fiction. Let\u2019s just pause for a moment and take that in. The first real short story this guy ever writes, and it gets accepted for publication in <\/span><\/i>Cemetery Dance Magazine<\/span>. Right along the likes of Stephen King, Ed Gorman, Bentley Little, Norman Partridge, Douglas Clegg, Ronald Kelly, Jack Ketchum, Ray Garton, Joe R. Lansdale\u2026 and a veritable host of other big names in the genre. Well, aside from coloring me jealous, Mr. Jason Sechrest should also take a little bow, pat his own back, and accept my fist bump of congratulations. That\u2019s quite the accomplishment, sir. Nicely done, you! But as to the story itself, he shared with me that he didn\u2019t realize until after the first draft was done that \u201cOrange Grove Court\u201d is also a commentary on child abuse. As soon as I saw that I thought how obvious it was. I had felt those vibes, but hadn\u2019t let it sink home. Tommy\u2019s parents, of course, don\u2019t play with him in the yard and don\u2019t even realize when he\u2019s gone for a little trek across the street with his toy Tonka. And Bryan\u2026 poor Bryan is still harping over his dad\u2019s hands on his shoulders after hitting that grand slam. Sechrest even tells us right there in the text that this was the last time he\u2019s made physical contact with his father. Gladys and her husband appear to be either childless or just old enough to have had theirs grown up and move out, so we can\u2019t really comment further other than the nagging feeling that Gladys would undoubtedly make a shitty mom. And then there\u2019s Agnes. Again, there is no mention of children, but we don\u2019t need them. Not in the human sense, anyway. We all know who Agnes\u2019 true children are: the vines. She brought them to \u201clife\u201d (ie: an awareness of being alive) through her love for them, but oh how they have grown up to be evil bastards. Whatever her nurturing skills with horticulture may be, she\u2019s obviously another bad influence who had warped her children greatly. We aren\u2019t at all sad to see her dead in that epilogue, are we? Which leaves us with the new couple who will take her place in Orange Grove Court. We know they but the house. We know they will soon bear a child. That\u2019s all the story tells us about their futures. But we don\u2019t really need to guess, do we? Everyone who lives on Orange Grove Court are horrid parents in one manner or another. Who knows what this iteration will become\u2026 sexual abuse? Drugs or alchohol dependance coupled with weekly violence? Maybe the mother will forever berate her little boy or convince him he\u2019s a fragile, sickly thing who cannot trust the world outside their protective, loving home. There are many ways to abuse a child, after all. We know only that the cycle will repeat.\u00a0<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n FINAL THOUGHT<\/b>\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n Monsters come in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes they\u2019re classic supernatural semblances cobbled from the worst parts of humanity (Granny Walker, the vampire). Sometimes they\u2019re from the natural world but beefed with a supernatural twist (Agnes Weaver\u2019s killer vines). And sometimes they\u2019re just plain of us (Bart Bowers & Agnes Weaver). Whatever your preference and whatever the tale, what matters most is what an author does with them.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n NEXT TIME\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n Next time I\u2019ll be reading\/ reviewing the following tales:\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n![\"cover](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/02\/cd2.jpg?resize=300%2C395&ssl=1\")
AUTHOR<\/b>:<\/b> William Telling Jr.
\n<\/span>APPEARANCE<\/b>:<\/b> Cemetery Dance #2: June, 1989<\/span><\/i>. (Story #<\/span>11<\/span> of 11).
\n<\/span>A BRIEF PLOT SUMMARY (with spoilers!)<\/b>:<\/b>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/b>MY REVIEW<\/b>:<\/b>
\n<\/span>I\u2019m a baseball fan, and any time an author talks about it, I\u2019m totally into it. And I love that Relling gave us the respect to understand the lingo without overdescribing them. Here are a pair of examples:\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n![\"cover](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/02\/cd77.jpg?resize=275%2C350&ssl=1\")
AUTHOR<\/b>:<\/b> Jason Sechrest
\n<\/span>APPEARANCE<\/b>:<\/b> Cemetery Dance #77: [2019]<\/span><\/i>. (Story #5 of 9).
\n<\/span>A BRIEF PLOT SUMMARY (with spoilers!)<\/b>:<\/b>
\n<\/span>The story is broken into 6 sections, each from the perspective of a different character (with one of them doubled) and an epilogue which serves as a strict part and 5th character perspective. I will submit my summary in the same fashion.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/b>MY REVIEW<\/b>:<\/b>
\n<\/span>I\u2019ll start with a couple of minor criticisms I have for this story\u2026 The names \u201cGladys\u201d and \u201cAgnes\u201d were easy to confuse, probably because in my mind both of those names are reserved for little old ladies. In the story, however, Gladys is only 50 and it\u2019s Agnes who is the old one at 86 years. This created for me a bit of a disjointed reading experience. After the Gladys section, I was picturing her as the neighborhood\u2019s token octogenarian. Then I moved on to Agnes and, for a few sentences I thought I was remembering the name wrong because I thought it was the same character. Only after the mention of Agnes\u2019 deceased husband did I realize my mistake, backtracked to the relevant lines, and corrected the disparity in my brain. Admittedly, their last names (Lipschvitz and Weaver) should have been dead giveaways, but sometimes you fly right past a single reference like that and miss them. That\u2019s what happened to me. I probably would have given the story an A+, but I also thought a few of the passages could have used a little more in the way of clarifying details, and I\u2019m also not a big fan of the \u201ckiller plants\u201d theme. I can\u2019t tell you why, exactly, because I don\u2019t really know, myself. For whatever reason, I like my monsters to have more human aspects, ie: eyes, teeth, hands (claws), and the ability to scare their victims with words. That\u2019s not an objection, mind you, just a personal preference.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n\n
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