December Update and Plans for the Year Ahead

2019 is almost upon us, so I thought it would be best to post another update on how my projects currently stand and what's going to be coming up. I've been a little quiet around here recently and that's mostly due to me working hard on getting stuff ready for the coming year.

• I'm planning on getting out a collected print edition of my miscellaneous short stories. These would include all my non-Modern Realms stories, extended and remastered, with bonus previously unpublished stories and artwork included. It's working title is Foul Cheeses and Space Diseases and I'm hoping to get it ready for release on Amazon early next year.
• I was hoping the print edition of my Less Than Three ebook stories would be out by Christmas, but I was a little optimistic about that. I'll give you an update on the time-frame soon.
• I'll have a table at Liverpool Comic Con this year from Friday the 8^th of March to Sunday the 10^th of March. I'll be selling copies of my books, as well as prints and promoting a bunch of other projects. I have a fondness for Liverpool, and really look forward to going back. If you're expecting to be there please come over and say hello.
• I also want to attend other conventions this year. Watch this space for more news on that.
• I've finally finished my Alignment Chart artwork project, where I produced a series of pieces depicting characters who each fall into the classic Dungeons and Dragons alignments. You can see the results below.
• I've recorded my second set of appearances on the BatMinute 89' Podcast. I'll let you know when they're planned for release as soon as I do.
• As always, I've been continuing the slow work on getting the John Paul Jones comic out of the door. More work in progress shown above, and I'm really hoping to get it dusted off and done this year.

Beyond that I just want to say that with all the changes going on surrounding Tumblr at the moment, I'm currently having to prepare for the possibility of winding down my use of it. For now though, you can still find me posting my art and writing there on a dedicated blog, as well as more casual rambles on the main one.

All of my official stuff will still be posted here on Blogspot, and I'll still be using my Deviantart and Twitter on the regular too, so whatever happens, there'll be plenty of places to access my work and updates.

Thanks for dropping by, and here's hoping for a productive new year.

Quick September Update

Hey folks. Just a short one here, since I just got back from holiday and there's not a great deal of news beyond what was mentioned in the last update. Still, I thought it was best just to put something here to let people know that I'm still working on things.

- I'm going to be at Leeds Thought Bubble on the 22nd and 23rd of September. I haven't got a table or anything, since it was all at a bit short notice, I'm just visiting, but I'll be happy to talk about any of my art and writing that people are interested in hearing about.

- Memoirs of the Fated, my Ebook trilogy, should be seeing a print edition some time before Christmas. No specific details on this as yet but there'll be a full update when I know more.

- I'm being made redundant from my full time job in October. How this will effect my projects remains to be seen, but you can probably expect some changes at least. I'm still weighing up my options, and possibly moving out, which will be a pretty disruptive process. As always, I'll be as transparent as I can regarding any delays, but I'll be doing my best to keep writing and drawing and getting stuff out there.

I had a really great time at Sheffield Comic Con, and it means a lot to talk to people who are enthusiastic about my work. I like creating worlds, and I like them to mean something to people, so whatever happens in the foreseeable future, you know I'm not going to stop.

In the mean time, you can follow my ramblings on twitter and tumblr.

The Darkness Inside - Part Three

The Darkness Inside is a three part horror mystery. This is the final part. You can read Part One here, and Part Two here.
                                                                    

The Darkness Inside

By Jack Harvey

“I mean, It could have just been a nightmare,” said Dennehy, his feet up on the table.

“No,” Barb said. “There was something more to this. Whatever is out there is trying to communicate. Trying to send me a message.”

“What do you think 'it' is?” asked John, who was standing in the corner, arms crossed.

“I don't know,” she said. “Something old. Something unbelievably ancient. It felt like it was at home there, and I was the intruder.”

“And what kind of message you think it was trying to send?” asked Dennehy.

Barb rubbed her eyes and looked at her fingers. There was still sleep in them. “I'm not sure,” she said. “A warning I think. It was telling me to get out. Go away. Leave things well alone.”

“Well,” Dennehy sighed. “I guess it was too much to hope that we could negotiate.”

“Maybe, but I've got a good feeling about this,” Barb said.

“A good feeling?” Dennehy said, shocked.

“Well don't you see?” Barb said, looking at both Dennehy and John. “If it's trying to scare me away, then it's threatened. I think it knows we're on the right track.”

“The soil?” asked John.

Barb nodded. “Any word on the results?” she asked Dennehy.

“Doctor Castillo is on her way over from the hospital now,” he said. “She shouldn't be long, but I'm not expecting a miracle.”

“Well it's the only lead we've got for now,” Barb said. “I've still had no word back from the FBI, and can't get a call through. We're going to have to make do with what we've got.”

Suddenly Dennehy picked his feet from the desk and strengthened up. Barb turned to see that a young blonde haired woman in a lab coat had entered with the deputy.

“Doctor Castillo,” Dennehy said. “Thanks for joining us.”

The deputy handed John back his shotgun and he gripped hold of it protectively.

“I'm sorry about making you wait,” Castillo said softly. “I was trying to collate as much data as possible for you.”

“That's okay Doctor,” Dennehy said. “We're just happy to see you here.”

Castillo nodded nervously and began handing them sheets of data. Barb scanned the sheet, though most of it didn't mean anything to her.

“We've only been able to do some rudimentary studies,” she said, almost apologetically. “Our lab isn't exactly kitted out for extensive work, but from what we found, it looks like your suspicions are correct. There's something unusual about our soil, as well as the metal of that gun.”

John began to look nervous.

“Let's start with the soil,” Barb said. “What have you found?”

“It's odd,” Castillo said. “But it looks as though there's a mineral element to it that we don't recognise. It's almost on a microscopic level but whatever it is it's extremely dense. Heavy. We tried to break it down with a bunch of chemical experiments but whatever it is it appears to have a single elemental structure, but it's no element we recognise.”

“Interesting,” Barb said.

“I don't really know how to explain it,” said Castillo. “Not least because there's been soil studies in the past, over Eleney's obsession with the stuff, and this is the first time anyone found anything like this.”

“Maybe they were just looking at the wrong time,” Barb replied. “What about the metal?”

Castillo sighed, it looked like whatever she found odd about the soil, the gun was even more bizarre. “The metal of the gun,” she said. “Well that also has an unknown element, but it's the opposite.”

“The opposite?” said Dennehy.

She nodded. “Unbelievably fine. Unbelievably light,” she said. “Almost undetectable. We actually missed it the first couple of runs. An intern just managed to catch a glimpse when they were testing microscope lenses. Whatever it is it's so fine it almost blinks in and out of vision.”

Barb nodded, but she was really starting to lose what Castillo was trying to explain.

“And whatever it is,” she continued. “It has the strange property to reduce the weight of the metal's compound. It's actually making the shotgun lighter, which probably explains why a man of John's... frame, could handle it so effectively.”

John looked down at his thin arms, wondering if he was supposed to be insulted.

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Barb asked. “Where this stuff came from?”

Castillo shook her head, blonde hair bobbing as it did. “Like I said, we're only able to perform rudimentary tests here. Believe me I wish we could do more. See how the elements react to each other and other similar compounds, but we're not really equipped for that and I don't want to blow up the lab or... create a black hole. I mean we're really in an unknown area here. You should be speaking to the Hadron Collider folks.”

“Thanks Doctor,” Dennehy said, dismissively. “If we need anything else we'll be in touch.”

The deputy led Doctor Castillo out of the office and shut the door behind them.

“So now what?” Dennehy asked. “We know something's up with the soil, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Do you believe in God Mr Hartley?” Barb asked.

John looked around the room nervously. “Well I was raised Catholic. I go to church every Sunday but I won't lie that I have my doubts.”

“What are you trying to suggest Agent Brown?” Dennehy asked her sternly.

“All natural forces in the universe have their equals and opposites,” she said. “Up and down, north and south, darkness and light. What if the rising of this darkness is the reason John's been put here with the shotgun.”

“What?” Dennehy said. “You think he's God's chosen one?”

“Right now I'm not willing to discount any theory,” she said.

John looked at her nervously. “Now hang on a minute...” he protested.

“Don't worry Mr Hartley we're not going to ask you to die on a cross or anything,” she said, with humour in her voice. “I do have a plan.”

“Well,” said Dennehy, leaning back in his chair. “Let's hear it.”

Barb nodded, then her mouth tightened. “I'm not going to be able to go into detail,” she said. “Whatever this thing we're dealing with is it could be anywhere. It could be watching us right now. Hell, it got into my dreams, so it could be reading my thoughts.”

Dennehy and John both shuddered.

“So I'm going to have to do some compartmentalisation, and you're going to have to trust me,” she turned to Dennehy. “Captain, I take it this station has some kind of workshop for maintaining your guns?”

Dennehy nodded.

“Good, I want you take Mr Hartley's shotgun and saw off a length of the barrel and sharpen it to a point. About enough to make a decent shiv.”

John gripped the gun tightly.

“Don't worry John,” she said to him softly, holding out her hand. “It'll only be sawn off. If anything it'll make carrying it about a lot easier.”

Nervously, he handed her the shotgun.

“Once we're done with that John, you're going to head back out to the oak tree you arrived at.”

He looked at her, confused. “Why? You think I can get home?”

“No,” she said, casually. “I need you to act as a distraction. I want the darkness to think you're at the crux of the plan, so it's not paying too much attention to me.”

“W...what?” he mumbled. “No, I can't do that. I'm not trained to deal with something like this.”

“I'm sorry John, but the tests are pretty conclusive,” she said, lifting up one of Castillo's studies. “You and the gun have been put here for a reason. Whatever is about to unfold you're about to play an integral part in it.”

John shook his head. “Look, I'm... I'm just a tourist. I shouldn't even be here. This isn't my responsibility.”

“I'm sorry son,” Dennehy said, legs still casually up on the table. “The lady is right.”

“Dennehy, shut the fuck up,” Barb said, slamming the butt of the shotgun into his feet. Slowly, she wheeled herself over to a cowering John, and took his hand. “Look John, responsibility doesn't even come into it. We're all stuck here now, and if we want to get home, it's up to us to figure it out. If there was anyone else, trust me, I'd send Dennehy, or a deputy, but you're a part of this puzzle. We need you to get us out.”

John nodded, and swallowed.

“All you need to do is go out there and last an hour, tops. Your gun works against those creatures. Load up with as many shells as you can carry and blast them to pieces. Once an hour has passed, if you don't here from me then just head on back to the station.”

“Alright,” said Dennehy, a little more soberly. “What about me?”

“We need you holding down the fort Captain. If we're both not back within the hour then send your men out to look for us, but don't dally long. If you can't find any trace of us then don't put any other men needlessly at risk.”

Dennehy nodded, seemingly glad that it was John that was going out and not him. John, for his part, was shivering, even under the heavy leather jacket.

“And since you were probably about to ask,” Barb said. “No I'm not going to tell you what I'm going to do. You'll just have to trust me, but if it works, you'll notice right away.”

Both men nodded, and made ready for the night ahead.

****

The Captain was as good as his word and Barb was left with a sharp rod of metal about the length of a thirty cementer ruler. She kept the weapon rolled up in her sleeve and wheeled herself across the town road. Darkness was starting to fall now, and the grey sky was starting to turn to a darker blue. 

Barb had told John to set off about the same time, it would take him about as long to get to the oak as it would for her to get to her own objective. For a few moments she felt a little guilty about sending the boy on such a hopeless task. While he had the shotgun he was hardly trained to deal with stressful situations of the like that was about to unfold. He was as likely to perish as he was to make it through the hour. Barb just had to hope that God really was on his side.

As the town's buildings began to disappear behind her, she started to doubt the logic behind her current plan. After all, before arriving at Egmontstown she hadn't even believed something so supernatural could occur, and now she was staking the livelihood of a town and it's children on, at best, conjecture based around something even science couldn't explain.

For the briefest moment Barb had to wonder if she really wasn't just insane. Had the stress of losing the ability to walk really broken her mind in some way? Maybe Dennehy was just humouring her. Maybe John didn't exist. Maybe it was more than the shadow's dark communication she had dreamed. 

What was she really doing here?

If Barb had any answers to those questions it was far too late now, she had finally arrived at the place where she hoped she could end this.

The Elaney House.

****

John paced the muddy ground back and forth between the oak tree and the nearby fence. His pockets rustled with shotgun shells, bulging well beyond the capacity the leather afforded them.  He bobbed his head and clapped his hands. Of all the places he hoped he'd never have to be it would be in a dark, mysterious town, tormented by the walking dead and otherworldly beings.

Ironically John had always secretly wanted to be a hero. Throughout his youth he'd daydreamed of being a real leader during an apocalyptic scenario, or the first to stand up to the second coming of the Nazis. He'd single handedly fight off terrorists, make first contact with aliens, and rescue beautiful women (and be very respectful to them throughout.)

Most importantly of all he'd always live to tell the tale.

Right now, finally finding himself in such a situation, he didn't even know what to do with himself. Despite spending this ordeal constantly in the presence of a beautiful woman, courting her was the last thing on his mind. In one of his many fantasies Barb Brown would be his ideal woman, but right now he didn't even have the time to consider she'd say yes to a date.

He tapped his feet in the mud, making a squelching sound. 

The first thing he thought was that he should just run. He looked at the watch Dennehy had given to him. He'd barely been there five minutes. He'd never make the hour.

John walked to the oak and put a hand on it to steady himself. He knew if he ran Dennehy would scold him, and if not him Barb certainly would, and that would haunt him for the rest of his life, however long that was. The boy who always wanted to be a hero running away.

Suddenly John noticed that despite being steady the squelching had continued.

He turned to look behind him. From a nearby cluster of trees, the creatures were were coming for him.

Even in the dark John could see there was something.... wrong about them. They didn't advance like the zombies of cinema, instead they moved oddly, as though their minds didn't fit their bodies. As though they were knew how to walk but not how a human walked. Limbs moved in ways they were not designed to do.  Body parts acted heavier or lighter than they normally should. Dead eyes stared out of pale, skeletal faces.

John pumped his shotgun. Seventeen people had disappeared since the whole affair had started. Give or take a vagrant or two that means he only had to survive about twenty, and he had ammo aplenty.

Carefully, John lifted the shotgun, and took careful aim at the first figure.

He fired.

The shot went wide, but it still clashed with the creature's shoulder, knocking it back and sending it crashing to the ground. Quickly, John pumped the next round into the barrel and fired again, this time splattering it's torso and seemingly keeping it down.

John continued this method with the next three that came for him. Not every shot rang true, but by and large he was slowing them down. They'd be crashing to the floor long before he was within grabbing range, and if they were down, they were easier to hit. Once his initial rounds were spent he backed off away from the tree, and reloaded the gun quickly.

Before long John had found his rhythm. Aim, shoot, pump, aim, shoot, pump, aim, shoot, pump. If he just focused on that, then he didn't have to think about the insanity he'd found himself in. The possibility of impending death, or worse. 

Soon enough, forgotten he had. All he had to think about was the next target in his cross-hairs. He'd lost track of time, as each nightmarish body fell before him.

He was almost surprised when they creatures began to retreat. He even afforded himself as smile.

That's when he heard the scream.

John turned, and from behind him, approaching at terrifying speed, was a dark silhouette of nothingness. A void. 

A screaming shadow.

****

Barb had found her way around the Elaney house easy enough. She took the elevator, and made her way to the study. Everything was waiting for her, just as it was last time. The fallen book was still on the floor.

She looked around the room, trying to wonder what it must have been like for Hugo Elaney to toil away in this room. Day after day, night after night.

Was it worth it? She wondered.

Barb wheeled herself over to the soil sample, and she took great care to pay attention to the years. Finally, she found the one she was looking for.

1818.

Barb pulled out the metal rod and held it up. It ran about the height of the shelf, and she could clearly reach the soil sample with it. As the rod got closer, she could swear that the soil was squirming in the class jar, as though repulsed by it.

She tapped the jar, and the lights flickered again.

Carefully, Barb wedged the rod between the jar and it's neighbour and slowly levered it behind. Then she pulled it back.

The 1818 jar fell from the shelf, and shattered on the floor.

The lights went out.

Barb could see nothing for a few moments. It was pitch black and dead silent. She moved her hands, felt that the chair was still there. That was when she heard the whispering.

“By the spirit... do not find... worthy of... that I am ready to make.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Barb could see a light. Suddenly she realised that the study door was half open, and the light was coming from a gas lamp that someone was carrying past.

Carefully she wheeled herself to the door and waited for the light to pass. Once it had she slowly edged the door open and looked out. She could see a man, the one holding the lamp and whispering, making his way down the corridor. He seemed to be wearing a baggy shirt and waistcoat.

Without skipping a beat Barb began to follow him. By virtue of her wheelchair, she didn't make a sound on the carpet, and the man seemed to be oblivious to her presence. Edging closer, she tried to hear what he was saying. 

“Lord of... I beseech your incantations that... find the... between two worlds.”

Barb followed the man further, to a room at the end of the corridor. He left the door open, and once she had caught him up she peeped inside.

The man was standing over a bed. In it was a grown woman and a very sickly looking child. The lamp now rested on a table next to them.

“From before there was form, become form. From before there was soul, become soul. From before there was want, become want.”

The man put a hand in his pocket and threw a clump of soil onto the ground.

The lamp flickered.

Then the man, carefully, methodically, pulled out a knife.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

Then the man raised the knife above his head.

****

John had fired off shot after shot, but the gun had no effect. The shadow was closing now. He could feel it gripping his head by some invisible force. The scream growing louder now, vibrating his skull.

Without paying attention to where he was, John fell back against the oak tree, dropping the shotgun. He screamed. The shadow was over him now. Mere inches away. He could barely focus on anything else. Tears began to run down his eyes and sweat ran down his back.

He threw back his head, and the darkness, and the scream was all there was. He closed his eyes.

“Upper...” came a struggling voice.

He opened his eyes again.

“...Body strength bitch!” shouted Barb as she lunged through the shadow, stabbing it through the torso with the metal rod.

Suddenly the shadow coalesced into a figure. Someone more human, and the scream became more human too. A man. He was stocky looking, hair a little grey dressed in a shirt and waistcoat.

Then, with the metal rod through his chest, he evaporated into dust.

Barb fell into the mud.

After a few moments of breathing heavily, and realising he wasn't dead, John helped her up. Barb struggled with him, before something caught her eyes. Something glinting in the mud.

“Is that my wheelchair?” she asked. 

****

By the time they had made their way back into town the sun was up and the sky looked more familiar than it did before.

As bizarre as Barb's wheelchair appearing in full working order was, the fields around them being no longer muddy was just as odd. Instead they were filled with corn and long grass, a bountiful form that had sprung up from nowhere.

Once they had arrived in town things had finally become clear.

Gone were the old stone Georgian buildings. Gone was the town entirely for the most part. In it's place was a handful of buildings, few older than fifty years. Each one a cookie cutter template looking identical of that of millions of other small roadside American towns. At the far end waiting for them was a Sonic and a Longhorn Steakhouse.

“The town...” John said in disbelief.

“I know,” Barb said.

“How?” he asked.

“Do you believe in time travel Mr Hartley?”

John looked at her. He took a few moments to ponder over what he'd seen and what he'd been through over the last couple of days. “No,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” Barb said. “Me neither. I think, Mr Hartley that we've seen a glimpse, just a glimpse, of something that could have been. A side step. An alternate history. A parallel world if you will.”

“Okay,” he said, lost for the most part.

“I think something had gone very wrong in the natural order of things and we were part of it putting itself right again,” she said, glancing over at John's hand with a weak grip on the shotgun. “Maybe you weren't God's chosen Mr Hartley. Maybe you were just the universe's.”

****

The Egmontstown police station was little more than a collection of mobile cabins assembled next to a large car park full of squad cars. Upon entering Barb was immediately hit by the smell of disinfectant, a far cry from the musk of the old building she was used to.

“Hello,” she said to the woman at the reception, flashing her badge. “Agent Barb Brown, FBI. I'd like to talk to Captain Dennehy if I may?”

“Of course,” the lady said. “May I ask what it concerns?”

“I'd rather keep that between me and him for now,” Barb said diplomatically.

The woman nodded and wandered off to get the man. Barb looked back towards the glass doors to see John hovering around outside like she had told him to. Given all that had happened over the last few days she had to wonder what was going on through his head.

“Agent Brown is it?” came a voice she recognised. “I've got to say I didn't expect a big shot FBI agent would be frequenting our parts.” Dennehy was now sitting at the desk in front of her.

“Captain Dennehy?” she asked.

He nodded and smiled, but the look he gave her was not one of familiarity. He was greeting her as a stranger. “That's me.” he said.

Barb lifted her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Sorry for taking up your time,” she said. “We're just doing a routine investigation into a few disappearances in nearby towns and wanted to check that all your folks are accounted for.”

“Disappearances?” Dennehy asked. “Can't say we've had anything reported.”

Barb smiled. “That's all I needed to check,” she said, and held out her hand to shake. “Thanks for your time.”

Dennehy shook, a little bemused that that was all she asked. “Uh... okay then, safe travels.”

****

Barb's bike was somehow waiting for her in the station car park.

“So,” John said, as she helped him on to the back. “What now?”

“Now,” she said. “We get you to the British Embassy and the hell out of my hair.”

“No,” John said. “I mean, what do you do now? You can't just carry on after all this.”

“I'm going to file an honest report to my superiors,” she said. “And they'll probably call me crazy and give me a leave of absence for stress, and then I'll get on with the rest of my life.”

“But,” John said, showing her the shotgun. “What about this?”

“Well,” she said. “The gun chose you, and it didn't vanish with everything else from this ordeal. So I guess it's yours to keep.”

John looked down at the gun, and nodded his head.


Barb started up the bike to make made her way home, leaving it at that. Her job was done, and she tried not to wonder what plans the universe still had for John Hartley.

                                              
Jack Harvey 2018

August 2018 Update

Hello all. Just posting a quick update on what's coming up and where I'm at with my various projects.

• First, and probably most importantly, I'm going to be at Sheffield Comic Con on August 18^th – 19^th. I'll be selling copies of Tales of the Modern Realms and some prints. If you're in the area, consider checking me out.
• In case you missed it, there was a brand new Ebook released last month by Less Than Three. The Reflections of Zantir Xanderfell is a fantasy heist story and follows on from my other stories, The Reminiscence of Good King Carnack and The Scars of Jocasta Lacroix.
• On a related note, the series now has a name proper. Memoirs of the Fated, and you can expect future releases to come under that title.
• Another thing, in case you missed it, was that I'm also posting a three part illustrated horror story The Darkness Inside. Part One and Two are already up to read for free, and Part Three will follow next Wednesday.
• Plans have changed for August and September recently and I've found myself with a lot of free time to use up. I'm going to try and attend some other conventions and festivals during that time. If that happens, then watch this space.
• As you can see from the title image, work has resumed on the John Paul Jones comic. It's slow going, since I lost a lot of progress last year, but I'm hoping to have it finished for the end of 2018 or early 2019.
• I've been working on some more artwork recently, including a project involving characters that line up with the Dungeons and Dragons alignment chart. You can see a few of them below.

 

Beyond that I'm going to keep working on writing and drawing. You can find my artwork over on my Deviantart or Art Tumblr, and likewise my occasional rants and thoughts can be found on my Tumblr or Twitter pages.

In the meantime, thanks for reading.