Ohioana Horror Story #5

So I’m going to be part of this Kickstarter run by my good friend and fellow writer Jason Myers.  It’s called Big Trouble in Little Canton: Supernatural Hijinks in Ohio and will be a multi-year serial novel-type-thing involving horror and the supernatural in, well, Ohio.  Which doesn’t come up often in Horror, as far as I can recall.  Click on the name above if you want to support the project and/or just see what it’s about.

For my part in the project I will be penning four postcards, each postcard containing a flash fiction piece detailing a location in Ohio (said location being the other side of the postcard).  For fun, and to warm up to the idea of horrifying Ohio, I’ve been writing little micro-fictions about Ohio and will be doing so until the Kickstarter ends.  This is a record of that experiment.

The art for today’s post is by Tina Myers, one of the artists involved in the project.  You can find out how to commission her work specifically (as well as any of the other artists) here.  FYI, you will end up with prints of the work or, with some artists, the original.

Big Trouble 5

Youngstown, Ohio, is the place to go if you’re going to die. This is assuming you don’t want to die, and are dying of some natural or supernatural cause that you’d rather just plain simply left you alone. If you actually want to die, then you should go to Sheboygan, Wisconsin.

But we’re not talking about those folks, are we, the ones who are so tired of this meaningless existence that they choose to end it all (or, rather, their small portion of it) rather than writing their own meaning onto it? No, we’re talking about you, and your fear of death or love of living (the same thing, really), and how all of it (the fear or the love or both) can be solved, alleviated, ameliorated, or exacerbated by a simple trip to Youngstown.

You see, Youngstown has the highest resurrection rate in the country.

Sure, after your resurrection, you might be a little stiff in the knee or missing a liver, but that’s a small price to pay for life. You might lose an eyeball or half of your scalp, but you’ll feel fine and you’ll skip to work like a little boy with a slingshot in hand and pocket full of marbles. It’s worth it, trust me.

The population is booming and, I promise, you’ll fit right in.

Eventually.

This entry was posted in Writing and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply