Monsters, Movies & Mayhem by Kevin J Anderson

Author:Kevin J Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: WordFire Press

Standing in front of the fireplace, Mike’s gaze flickered between the portrait and the urn on the mantle. He was never sure which to talk to. Between them, they represented the best and worst days of his life.

The portrait, Mike sitting while Glen stood behind with one hand on his shoulder, had perfectly captured Glen’s gentle smile and loving nature. It been their big splurge when they crossed the million-dollar mark, when they left their day jobs and went full-time with their tiny production company.

The urn, small, white, and simple, contained all that was physically left of Glen in this world.

Mike talked things out with Glen, even now, but today he didn’t know what to say. The bottomless inkwell had run dry. No more ideas came from out of the ether, and he’d run out of unfinished projects to work on. Memories of how much Glen loved the monsters had carried Mike through the last few screamplays, as he re-worked old ideas they had bandied about but discarded. Now Mike had used up all those ideas.

Every last one.

Throwing himself into his work at a record pace, he’d cranked out ten full-length screamplays in the year since Glen’s death. Two had already been made into films and were successful—unexpectedly so. Another four were in production. Three were being adapted into series. The last, as of today, was in the queue, waiting for resources to free up so it could be made. It was the best position Mike, and the company, had ever been in.

But it meant nothing without Glen.

Mike turned from the portrait and looked around his smallish house. Glen would have loved it. Cozy yet open, it carried the white-picket-fence feeling while still being modern. It was something Glen had died thinking Mike would never be able to afford again.

The experimental treatments had cost them their home, their savings, and their ownership of the company, and it had put them deep in debt.

Worst of all, it hadn’t mattered.

Just as the treatments seemed to be working, just as Glen was getting better, he had a heart attack. More specifically, he suffered from takotsubo syndrome, also known as broken-heart syndrome—a heart attack induced by massive amounts of emotional stress. The doctors couldn’t know if it was related to the experimental treatments or not.

Mike poured a whiskey, breaking his own rule about not drinking alone. He held the glass tumbler under his nose and inhaled the biting scents of caramel and Earth, trying to ground himself in them. Breaking another rule, he threw back the shot instead of sipping it.

He grimaced and set the tumbler down, fighting the urge to throw it across the room and scream.

“Damn it, Glen,” he mumbled at the portrait. “I was writing them for you. Envisioning what you would think I was going to write and then figuring out how to surprise you. What would make you laugh, what would make you scream … How much you would love the monster …” He dropped into the chair and sank his face into his hands.

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