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JOSEPH MONKS

INITIATION

By Joseph M. Monks

 

Jason's heart fluttered. There was no reason for it, he knew. But he didn't like the situation, and there was no getting around that.

    Just get through it, chirped the voice in his head. You can do this. You know their secrets.

 

    "Hold fast to this, Pledge Wilkes. Don't release it until you're told."

 

    The voice was Todd's, the chapter's supreme leader. Jason's hand shook. The object he'd been given was warm and spongy. Though he'd read about this part of the ritual, it made him queasy. He closed his fist. Moisture seeped through his fingers.

    The heart of a monkey from the lab, freed from its chest while the animal still lived. That's what he was supposed to think. He didn't know what a monkey heart felt like, but whatever he was holding would've convinced him—if he didn't know better.

  

 

"Feel the life fade from it, Pledge," said another soon-to-be frat brother. Dom, Jason thought, though it was tough to tell. Dom hadn't said much before putting the hood over Jason's head and leading him down to the initiation chamber.

    "Open your mind, and your mouth. Accept the gift of its life force."

    Jason did as instructed. Salty fluid filled his throat. The monkey's blood, according to Wikipedia. Brothers weren't supposed to talk about Initiation, but Jason had found plenty of former members  willing to spill the beans. Chicken broth was what he was swallowing, nothing more. The council was watching, waiting for him to gag—or worse, to vomit. If he did, that would be it. Initiation over.

    "Anointed in blood, Pledge Wilkes. Do you choose to continue, or be turned away from the brotherhood in disgrace?"

    Todd again. Jason took a breath. Showing weakness could get you booted just as easily as tossing your cookies, according to FratWorld.com.

    "I accept this gift," he said firmly. "I am worthy. Let me prove it."

    Something rustled in the darkness. He couldn't see through the hood, but the rattle was unmistakable.

    "A fellow pledge may not be as sincere," Todd intoned mockingly. "Pledge Wilkes, accept the rot and let it fester within you!"

    This was it. The hard part. A spoonful of wriggling maggots was forced into his mouth. Todd gripped his chin, sealing them inside. Jason shuddered, but held his lips closed, waiting for the order.

    "Consume the rot, Pledge," Todd commanded. "Let the vermin fill your hollow innards."

    Jason concentrated, grinding his teeth through the squirmy mass. It didn't really feel like it was moving, but the mind was easily manipulated, and the council had prepared him well.

    The taste was revolting, but  he expected as much. Moldy pasta boiled in sour milk was reportedly one of the frat's favorites. They'd hazed countless brothers with the noxious concoction. As soon as he could manage, he swallowed, picturing the council nodding in approval.

    One step closer, the little voice cheered. Won't be long now!

    "No brother is worthy who cannot fulfill the desires of the flesh. Can you boast virility such that you deserve the favors of our concubines?"

    Jason, stripped down to his Jockeys before being strapped to the chair, puffed out his chest.

    "I am man enough," he said, giving the desired response. A brutal slap snapped his head to one side.

    "The wolf takes what he wants, leaving the scraps to the weak," Todd barked, grabbing Jason's face, squeezing until his eyes blurred. His mouth fell open, Todd's fingernails digging into the pressure points. Two hot orbs were thrust onto his tongue.

    "The source of the hunter's seed, inferior one!" Todd growled. "Take down the predators unborn, so that they may breed in your soul."

    Jason couldn't pull away, so tilted his head back, swallowing the wolf's testicles whole.

    He shuddered. Mushrooms wrapped around quail eggs, sautéed in foul brine. This was where most pledges broke, according to a guy who claimed to have been supreme leader in the '80s. Wolf balls was so strong an image that, coupled with the rancid taste, pledges routinely overturned the chair to spit them out. Jason felt his stomach revolt, battling the urge to upchuck.

    No, he told himself. They're down. They're down, and they're fucking staying down, at least until you get the hell out of here.

    He hated mushrooms. They made him sick. Might be he was allergic to the damned things, he didn't know. But if he could stick it out just a little longer, get the council's thumbs up and make it through the initiation, he could find a toilet and heave like a kid who'd eaten too many 'dogs at the ballpark.

    "You have done well, pledge," Todd said somberly. "Accept this final gift in order to understand what our world holds in store for you."

    His heart leapt. This was the only mystery that remained. Nowhere online could he find an account of the ritual's final stage. The brothers who'd opened up? Even they refused to tell.

    The paste that soured his mouth made him jump. Todd scraped the spoon across his teeth so hard it sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

    Beneath the hood, Jason wept. He hung his head, hoping no tears would escape. His body bucked, fighting the demands of his brain to expel the vile substance. But that wasn't going to happen. He'd come too far. He'd applied to Miskatonic solely because of Sigma Nu Arcana and its infamous reputation. An offshoot fraternity that meshed the traditional Greek societies with more esoteric belief systems, Sigma Nu had made national headlines thanks to its hedonistic parties, recruiting methods and claims by other fraternities that their practices were, in a word: reprehensible.

    Jason didn't care. He was geek through-and-through, and he'd survived high school only by letting jocks and cheerleaders cheat off him. After reading an article in Maxim detailing a campus coed's hospitalization, he'd set his sights on Miskatonic.

    He smelled something burning, concerned at the chamber's silence. Was this part of the ritual? He had a fear of fire, and the silence surrounding him seemed absolute

    The girl had been rushed to Ardeth Medical Center after suffering a prolapsed rectum. Jason hadn't known what that was at the time, but found out quickly. Alcohol had been involved. No surprise there, he'd thought, reading an account of the girl's series of intoxicated trysts with—according to the writer—upwards of a dozen fraternity members. Jason hadn't been disgusted. Just the opposite, in fact. It turned him on. More than a few times, he'd read that article before turning in, paper towels tucked under his pillow.

    He opened his mouth, his tongue sticky. He wanted to spit, but didn't dare. He stayed quiet, waiting.

    He wanted that. To be the top dog, frat-wise. For women to do things you only saw on porn sites you paid $40 a month for. To do things girls back at home would find unspeakable.

    There was a crisp pop! And his hands swung loose. He yanked off the hood, scanning the dim chamber. As he'd suspected, he was alone.

    Candles formed a circle around him, all but the one which had burned through the rope on the verge of going out. He spotted his clothes, draped over a box. Tossing aside the monkey heart, he snatched them up.

    He wanted to get out, to breathe fresh air. It smelled like someone had emptied a restaurant dumpster. He was pulling on his jeans when he noticed a cloth sticking out of the carton. It looked…looked like…

    No. Over and over, the word echoed in his head. But deep down, he knew what he was seeing was real. He lifted it with a shaky hand.

    A diaper.

    The spoon clattered to the floor. The diaper was soiled. Tracks showed where the fabric had been scraped empty.

    Bile filled his throat. A candle died, but not before he glimpsed what lay inside the box.

    He reeled, kicking over a second candle, leaving him almost entirely in shadow. Still, the image would not fade. The  pale, eyeless face of the infant continued to stare back at him.

    Brain spinning, Jason took the candle from behind his chair and brought it over, hoping against hope that he would find a realistic doll inside the crate. But already, he knew better.

    The child's ribcage had been pried open. A gaping wound in its sunken belly showed coils of intestine, which Jason had believed were maggots. The child's genitals were intact. He'd eaten its eyes, not faux wolves-testicles.

    He had to leave, right now.

    He wiped down the candleholder, turning to set it down. But as he did so, he saw the message, scrawled across the wall in human blood.

 

You are ours. Tied to us by blood.

 

    He thought back, to the beginning of the ritual. The drawing of a blade across his thumb.  The burn as a pungent spice was rubbed in to mark him. What had that been, he wondered. Not that it mattered now.

    He returned to the box, and the infant's corpse. He found the knife with little effort, and held it before his eyes. There was no getting out of this. No hiding the body and going on as if nothing had happened. This was it—the true final stage of his initiation. There was only one choice left to make.

    He was still trying to decide when the final candle flickered out.

This months featured author is the talented Joe M. Monks. I've had the pleasure of knowing him for a while and have followed some of his endeavors whether it be film, comics or writings. In this months spotlight you can read an exclusive tale, only here for a month and check out some of his sweet comic art while you read our interview with him. Enjoy.

NOW ONTO THE VISUAL CANDY!!

click the pictures for full size

INSIDE THE MAN

TTE:  When did you first get into the horror genre?


JM: Professionally, at 19, when I wrote some reviews and shorts for fanzines. But I've been into horror ever since I was 8 or 9. Very first thing I ever churned out storywise, on an old typewriter my Mom snagged for $5 at a garage sale? Yep, it was a horror story.

TTE:  Was there any specific reason that compelled you to do so?


JM: Horror just excited me from the very beginning, and I think that's what made me gravitate towards it. When you love something, you envision making a career out of it. Ever since I can remember, I'd loved to write and tell stories, so I knew that I'd probably be doing that all my life. Obviously, there were no guarantees I'd be able to do it professionally, but I knew that itch was always going to be there. Even though I've day-jobbed it at times, it's been a constant, and since horror is the genre I'm most passionate about, it's where I keep winding up.

 TTE: To date, what's your favorite project and why?


JM: Torn to Pieces, my first novel. I've been lucky. I've done a lot of things in my life and had a level of success with every one of them. I wasn't big into comics growing up, but I knew a guy who was, and we co-created Cry for Dawn, which took off to the point it made me a 'name' in comics. I started writing freelance adult stuff for a while, and I've been getting assignments ever since. I released a horror anthology, one of the stories got optioned for a TV pilot, and I got tapped to write the teleplay. But when you first start out, you always think, "I want to write a novel." There's just something special to writers about attaining that goal. For one, it's a massive undertaking, a piece of prose that large. For another, countless writers and wannabe-writers and dreamers start one…but never finish. I won't lie—it ain't easy. It takes commitment and a willingness to start over and over. But when you succeed, and strangers rave about it and compare you to some of your favorite authors? That's what sets 'Torn apart from everything else I've done.

TTE: WilL the comic Sick and Twisted ever see the light of day other than an acompany piece for THE BUNKER?


JM: Yes, but not any time soon. The thing about comics is, while I love the genre, financially it's almost always a suicide mission to try and do it in today's marketplace. I'd rather sink the money and time it takes to do a few issues of a comic into another film project, like REDEMPTION, which is a pilot I'll be shopping in 2015. I wouldn't mind doing something limited, or a short story or two as a work-for-hire in comics, but the risk-to-reward ratio is much better with a film.

 TTE: Speaking of,What kind of budget did you have on THE BUNKER?


JM: It started out at $7,500, most of that going into buying a Mac and Final Cut Pro so we could do everything in-house. Then, we had the opportunity to shoot on location in L.A., and then in NY, and well, you get the picture. When it was all said and done we spent over fifty on it, but after a week of meetings with distributors at the American Film Market in 2011, the general concensus was that we'd spent a hundred on it, so I was pretty happy we made that kind of impression.

 TTE: How difficult was it to direct being blind?


JM:I wish I had something to compare it with, so I could tell you if I had it that much worse than any other first-time director. Every time I see a documentary about a filmmaker who had a nightmare on a shoot, I can sympathize. I sit there and think, "Yeah! I know exactly how *that* goes!" I had a lot of those same difficulties. But, since I had to come up with every approach on my own, because no one had ever done it before, I tried to come up with the best possible work-arounds so my difficulties didn't translate into difficulties for everyone. Bottom line? Directing is hard as hell, but I didn't think it was impossible—which a lot of people did. That I won an award and got into a dozen different film festivals and scored multiple distribution deals? I think that says no matter how hard it was, it was worth it.

TTE: What was it like working with madman Terry West?


JM:Terry was my lynchpin. I wrote the screenplay with him in mind, though at the time I didn't plan on directing it. But when that decision was made, he was the first person I approached, because I knew he would make it easier. A: I knew he could act. B: I knew he could make the role his own without much interference from me. C: He's a director himself, so I knew I was getting an experienced pair of eyes on set. Anybody reading this who makes movies should know that Terry is pro personified. The movie wouldn't be half of what it is without him, and that's no exaggeration.

 TTE: On that note, how do you feel FLOWERS ON THE RAZORWIRE turned out?


JM:So-so. Average, at best. There were lots of problems, but worst was the casting. Yes, Flower is hot. But Hart cast a foreign actress who'd only worked in porn, which made it a lot harder on him getting out of her what we'd envisioned. The lead actor didn't know his lines, so for principal photography—the scenes in the elevator? The pages from the script are actually stapled to the wall. You can see them clear as day and in the Bonus Featurette. Flower is supposed to hunt her prey through the personals ads in the L.A. Weekly, so I wrote in a scene in the intro to establish that. But instead of actually picking up a copy and Photoshopping in an ad, Hart had her holding up typing paper. I mean, things like that drove me up the wall. It isn't hard to mock up a fake newspaper ad. They sell newsprint in stationery stores and arts and crafts shops. For $2.99, you print out what you want and it's *perfect*. It looks 100% legit and helps sell your storyline. The production value of the elevator is garbage, but that's the kind of thing that happens when sets are being built the night before, etc. When I shot REDEMPTION? We used a real elevator, and we built a set, to scale, in a warehouse two months before shooting. I built it to my shot list, so I could literally shoot from any angle—including from within the emergency call box. That's one of the best shots we got. I had roughly one-eight the budget Hart did for Flowers, but the people who've seen both tell me there's no comparison, and I think that's because of the preparation the team put in, instead of doing things flying by the seat of your pants.

 

TTE: Do you do anything with Hart Fisher any more?


JM: Not a thing, and not ever again.

TTE: Can we expect more films from you in the future?


JM: Well, I haven't shown off anything but clips from REDEMPTION, but that's finished and ready to shop. I'd like to shoot two more episodes, so that if we can't get a deal as a series, I can package it as an anthology film and release it that way. So yes, something else is coming, it's just up in the air when that might be. Right now? I'm focused on the writing more than anything else.

 TTE: what can you tell us about monsterthology?


JM: Well, since GRAVE CHOICES has been released, the cat's out of the bag, so I can say that I co-wrote one of the stories with my buddy Franklin E. Wales, under a pseudonym. Other than that? I was disappointed with the final product because the editing isn't sharp and that's always a killer in the e-book market. People might forgive a clunker of a story from a crop of largely-unknown authors, but when you have grammar and punctuation and spelling errors? Ugh. That, no one forgives. Had a load of fun writing the stories though, both of which I'd given thought to long before, but Monsterthology gave me a reason to finally get 'em done.

 
TTE- are any of your comics available and if so where can they be obtained?


JM: Well, the limited edition preview of Sick 'N Twisted only comes in The Bunker DVD. That's available on Amazon and through my sites. The Night Terrors, which I did with Bernie Wrightson, Bill Stout and a couple of other horror-lovers might be available in a few specialty comics shops, but that sold out pretty quick, so ordering direct is the only way to get one now unless you find a collector. Same with Zacherley's Midnite Terrors. Those three issues are only available through the site. Since it's been a while since I've published anything new, people can contact Diamond through their comic book shop, or have their retailer get in touch with me through e-mail. I still sell direct to a lot of shops I've dealt with for over twenty years, so anything that isn't gone-gone, just get in touch.

 TTE- what do you think of the bombarding of self published writers?


JM: It was inevitable when ebooks finally found their foothold and nobody had to spend any money. Like the big comic book self-publishing boom in the '80s/early-'90s, there's some great books being released that mainstream publishers wouldn't take a chance on, and then there's crap. Unfortunately, there's a whole lot of crap, which leaves a bad taste in peoples' mouths about self-publishing in general. That's why reviews and ratings from readers are so important to newcomers, or even established writers who are now going the self-publishing route.  That's the big difference between ebooks and other types of self-publishing. Yeah, anybody with a couple hundred bucks and stick figures can self-publish a comic, but there's still an investment involved. With film, it's even tougher, because it's almost impossible to produce a film for nothing and make it available unless you get a distribution deal. Otherwise? You're just another guy selling it on his web site. But an ebook is text. It doesn't cost anything to produce, and plenty of times writers aren't even paying for an original cover. A striking font and flat background color is all you need. 20 years ago, you'd have had to go the vanity publishing route with physical copies to take to conventions, but now? People bang out whatever they want, run a spellcheck and 'publish' it with the click of a button. That hurts writers who actually take their time and use beta-readers and get real help with the final edit before even thinking about releasing it. Sadly, a lot of really good writers are getting lost in the mix because there's so many people out there releasing junk hoping to make a buck. Meanwhile,  readers get turned off and go back to reading established writers from mainstream publishing companies. And—there's nothing wrong with that—it's just that there's not enough room for mainstream publishers to publish every talented writer. Self-publishing allows you to find those authors, but you have to be willing to wade through some drek to do it.

 TTE- Who would you most like to work with writing a novel and in films?


JM:If I had to pick one guy I thought my writing style would fit well with to co-write a novel, it would be John Connolly. He's got a sort of hybrid mystery series featuring private investigator Charlie Parker and a supporting cast of really wild characters. One of my favorite ongoing series. But there's a supernatural element to the work that lends itself to the kind of stuff I most like to write. Plus, a very close second to horror for me is mystery. It's why I chose to make my debut novel a mystery—I love the genre, and it was the most mainstream thing I've ever done, so it lent itself to a wider audience. So, if I had the chance to kidnap one best-selling author whose work knocks me out? If John ever goes missing, my garage would be the first place to look. As for film collaborators, I'll throw out a couple of actors, because that's who I'd most like to work with. Tiffany Shepis would be at the top of my list for actresses. She's rock-solid, she tries hard with every role she gets, and I'm not going to lie—she doesn't always get the greatest material to work with. But she makes the parts worthwhile, and that's more important to me as a director than anything. I have two scripts with roles written specifically for her, if financing were to fall into place. As for actors, I can't single anyone out, mainstream or indie, but there's a lot of character actors I would love to get in front of the camera. Angus Scrimm (one of the scripts I just mentioned has a great role for him). I think it'd be a blast working with Dennis Leary on a horror film. Hell, I might not even direct. I'd just tell him, "Be yourself. Be sarcastic and obnoxious and pretend you're being even more underpaid than you are." And then say "Action!" I've got a script we discussed with Martin Landau's agent and he liked the concept, and it's a significant role, the key would be getting LOIs (letters of intent) to show to financers. Michael Rooker would be high on my list, too. People like that would be great because while having blockbuster names is nice, I'd rather craft a good old fashioned scary, gritty, moody horror film than rely on big names to make people watch it. Give me Lili Taylor over Meryl Streep any day.

 

So there you have it folks. Joseph Monks himself speaks to us. click the link below to read our thoughts on the aforementioned film THE BUNKER

more on Joseph Monks available

 

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