Van Dyne’s Zuvembies

“When hate makes life worth living…”

Cryptozoology is the study of cryptids: those creatures of myth, folklore, legend, and imagination that science sniffs at, and yet may in fact exist. Much like the coelacanth, thought extinct for 65 million years, only to be found alive and well in 1938. Seems science doesn’t know everything.

Writers of the paranormal love cryptids. They are their stock in trade, their bread and butter. Yet, of the hundreds of cryptids available, relatively few find their way into the tales of the paranormal writers.

Way back in 1934, Robert E Howard wrote a story titled, “Pigeons from Hell”, which was published in the May 1938 issue of Weird Tales, two years after Howard’s death.

The story is a superb example of Southern Gothic horror, and features a creature of Howard’s invention, although drawn from Voodoo myth — the zuvembie.

Given the current zombie craze, I would’ve thought someone would’ve made use of the zuvembie before now. To my knowledge, no one has.

So you may be asking, “What the heck is a zuvembie?” That’s a good question, and I’m glad you asked. Let me satisfy your curiosity with a scene from Van Dyne’s Zuvembies:

“Can someone please tell me what the hell a zuvembie is?” NicAskill asked.

Dr Heber cleared his throat. “A zuvembie is a creature that is often classed as one of the undead.”

“You mean like zombies and vampires?” NicAskill asked.

“Yes. Although technically speaking, a zuvembie is not dead. Simply changed.” Heber paused a moment to clean his glasses. He put them back on and continued.

“In traditional voodoo, a bokor, that is, a magician, creates a zombie from someone who is already dead. A zombie is a re-animated corpse that does the bidding of the bokor. A zombie is essentially a slave.”

“So there’s no zombie virus?” Jones asked.

“No. That is the stuff of cheap pulp fiction and B-rated movies.”

“So no zombie apocalypse,” Jones said.

Heber shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“So if a zombie is a slave, what’s a zuvembie?” NicAskill asked.

“As I said,” Heber explained, “a zombie is a slave of the bokor, created by powerful spells that are cast by the bokor. A zuvembie, on the other hand, has never died. The creator of a zuvembie may or may not be a bokor. However, the creator of the zuvembie has gone through the necessary rituals and been taught the secret of making the Black Brew, which, when drunk, will turn a woman into a zuvembie.”

“Only women can become zuvembies?” Jones asked.

“That is correct,” Heber replied. “Only women.”

“Why?” The question came from NicAskill.

“Because hate and revenge are the motivators and the required emotions to become a zuvembie.” Heber shrugged. “It seems women, as a sex, have so often been viewed as inferior that they and they alone possess the necessary hatred and desire for revenge to become a zuvembie.”

NicAskill sat back in her seat. “Wow.”

Heber, a smile on his face, continued. “For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. The zuvembie is the personification of female hate and revenge.”

“So what’s this thing like?” Jones asked.

Heber explained, “According to the lore, ancient lore that predates voodoo and goes back to West African snake religions, once a woman drinks the Black Brew she ceases to be a human. She becomes one with the denizens of the Black World. Friends and family cease to exist. A zuvembie has command over some aspects of nature. It can control owls, snakes, bats, and werewolves to do its bidding. The creature can summon darkness in order to blot out a small amount of light.

“Unless killed by lead or steel, it lives forever. Time means nothing to the zuvembie; it exists, as it were, outside of time. It no longer eats human food, and dwells in a house or a cave much as a bat does.

“The zuvembie cannot speak, at least not as humans do, and it does not think as humans think. However, by the sound of its voice it can hypnotize the living and summon a person to his or her death. And once the thing has killed a person, it can control the lifeless corpse until the corpse grows cold and the blood ceases to flow. The corpse becomes the slave, as it were, of the zuvembie and will do whatever the zuvembie commands it to do.”

“Good night,” Jones said. “It’s a good thing women don’t know about this zuvembie thing.”

“Shut up, Jones,” NicAskill said.

“One more thing,” Dr Heber said. “The zuvembie has but one pleasure in life.”

“What’s that?” Mostyn asked.

“To kill human beings.”

So now you know what a zuvembie is. Pretty scary stuff, coming as it did from the stories REH’s grandmother told him. Nothing like folklore to scare the bejeezus out of you.

Van Dyne’s Zuvembies is at the beta readers, and I’m looking to publish it late June or early July.

In the meantime check out the other Pierce Mostyn adventures. They’re filled with monsters, daring-do, and will convince you to keep the lights on at night.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

Original illustration from Weird Tales for Pigeons from Hell
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Investigators of the Paranormal

Fear is one of our oldest emotions — if not the oldest. And fear of the unknown is one of our greatest fears.

I don’t know what I don’t know, and that lack of knowing scares us. It is primal, that fear of the unknown.

Fear, playing on our fears, is the stock in trade of the writer of the macabre. Those spinners of stories that parade our fears before us and scare us to death —  and we love it.

For all of our façade of sophistication, biologically speaking we are no different than our ancestors from 300,000 years ago. We may no longer be afraid of thunder and lightning, and we may have outgrown our fear of what’s under our beds — we are, however, still controlled by our fears.

Just look at the nightly news. Listen to David Muir’s tone of voice. He’s playing into our fears. And how often do we say, “I’m afraid…” — no matter the context?

Is it any wonder that the tale of terror, the horror story, has never lost its appeal with readers?

Today, interest in the paranormal — our modern term for what used to be called the supernatural and the occult — is hot. Genre fiction has pretty much a paranormal version of every genre. Some of it’s silly, and some of it is pretty doggone scary.

Paranormal fiction has made quite a few of its writers a boatload of money. And while much of the paranormal genre fiction is formulaic trope-filled tripe, some of it is quite good.

When I conceived of my Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigations series, I wanted something that moved in the world of the Cthulhu Mythos and also appealed to viewers of The X-Files.

From comments I’ve received and from the reviews of the books, I believe I’ve succeeded.

What’s more, since his introduction, Pierce Mostyn has been my top selling series. Therefore, it’s only natural to revisit the paranormal as I contemplate starting a new series.

However, I wanted something a bit different from the Cosmic Horror, Cthulhu Mythos, focus of Mostyn. And since my first love as a reader is detective fiction (ever since discovering Nero Wolfe in the early 80s), what would be more natural than to blend detective fiction with the paranormal?

Thank goodness I don’t have to reinvent the wheel. The occult detective has a long and time-honored lineage and is alive and well today.

Therefore, my new series, which will most likely debut next year, will be a brother and sister team of occult detectives, or, in contemporary parlance, paranormal investigators.

Taking a page from the exploits of Flaxman Low, Thomas Carnacki, and Jules de Grandin, my investigators will explore those things that go bump in the night and scare the bejeebers out of people.

Haunted houses, demons, assorted monsters, arcane and occult magic. Twisted tales about two normal (well, mostly normal) young adults battling the ageless fears that underlie the veneer of our contemporary scientific sophistication.

As all good occult detectives have done, my hero and heroine will allay our fears of the unknown. Of course, such fears can never truly be put to rest. Can they?

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

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Book Review: Your Arms Around Entropy

Every now and then one encounters an extraordinary author. A writer who’s a magician with his or her pen. Last year, I was very fortunate to find several such authors.

This year, with the fourth of the year over, I’ve discovered one: Brian Fatah Steele.

Thus far, I’ve read his short story collection Your Arms Around Entropy and others stories and his novel There is Darkness in Every Room. I’m currently reading his early novel In Bleed Country.

The first story I read by Steele was “Delicate Spaces”. The story that starts off Your Arms Around Entropy. I was immediately struck by his imagination. Building on the foundation of Lovecraftian cosmic horror, Steele bends the sub-genre into a shape that is uniquely his.

Sometime ago I was at an art fair in Elk River, Minnesota. I looked at what the artists were selling. There were glass artisans, potters, painters, woodworkers, the whole gamut. Out of all those artists, one jumped out at me: a potter.

His work captivated me. The miniatures were subtle in their coloration. The shapes were not exotic, but just a bit off the norm to make them unique. I bought several pieces.

It’s the same with Steele’s storytelling. It’s captivating.

Your Arms Around Entropy is a collection of a dozen stories, four appearing for the first time in the book.

A lot of people don’t like short stories. I happen to love them. The main criticism I see is that they are lacking. Lacking in story. Lacking in characterization. My response is, yes, the bad or mediocre ones are. The good ones are fabulous stories, with characters we love, or hate, or love and hate.

Steele draws superbly lifelike characters, who tell us, show us, their lives, and therein lies the tale.

Your Arms Around Entropy contains a little bit of everything. Some cosmic horror, a bit of the surreal, some straight up supernatural horror, a bit of humor. And plenty of trips to places perhaps even you can’t imagine.

My favorite story in the collection was “Bleak Mathematics”. It is a story I will probably re-read — and I don’t usually re-read books or stories. The tale is replete with interesting characters, suspenseful storytelling, Steele’s unique spin on cosmic horror, a touch of mystery, and an ending that takes a moment or two to sink in before it slaps you in the face with the horror of real reality.

I was so impressed by Your Arms Around Entropy — I bought all of Steele’s books. He really is that good.

You can read my Amazon review before you buy. Or you can just plunk down 99¢ and take twelve trips to where The Twilight Zone didn’t dare to go.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

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A Bump In The Night

Good Books You Probably Never Heard Of – Part 9

A Bump in the Night by Crispian Thurlborn
https://amzn.to/2KBx666

We think life can be difficult. But being dead has its own problems.

Mr Snaggle and Mr Snuffle, those Arbitrators of the Quick and the Dead, have a new problem on their hands: their good friend, Mr Bump (that fellow who ferries folks across the river to the realm of the dead), is fading. Fading from being a ghost to being truly dead. And if Mr Bump goes, who’s going to do the ferrying?

This is a ginormous problem and Mr Snaggle and Mr Snuffle are doing their darnedest to help their friend. Seemingly, though, without success. That is, until little Penny shows up.

Crispian Thurlborn’s A Bump in the Night is a ghost story. It’s an urban fantasy tale. It’s a literary think about the meaning of life — and death. It’s a book that is at once humorous and serious.

In a style that would make Dickens envious, Thurlborn tells us a story we won’t soon forget. The tale lingers there on the edge of your mind, just like… Well, just like a ghost.

And while A Bump in the Night isn’t a Christmas story, it does have ghosts and the themes in the book go very well with “peace on earth, goodwill towards men”.

Crispian Thurlborn is one of my favorite authors. If you haven’t read anything by him, let me say his writing is on par with that of the best writers writing today.

Do yourself a favor and get a copy of A Bump in the Night. You won’t be sorry, and you may just find yourself putting the book in your pile to read again.

Comments are always welcome; and, until next time, happy reading!

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