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Edited by Harrison Howe - Darkness on the Edge [jhc]

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Edited by Harrison Howe Darkness on the Edge [jhc]

Darkness on the Edge [jhc]: summary, description and annotation

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Creativity is something like magic. One form might feed the other, providing inspiration, sparking ideas, fueling the creative juices. For the authors contained within this unique anthology, the source of inspiration was the music of Bruce Springsteen. Themes, lines, song titles . . . whatever it took to draw these stories into life.
So many of Springsteens songs bring you close to the edge of a darkness where uncertainty reigns - a darkness not just on the edge of town but of our hearts and minds . . . the darkness between child and adulthood, perhaps; or between courage and fear; marriage and divorce; even confidence and self-doubt. These nineteen authors nudge us closer to an answer . . . and let us see what really is stirring out there in the shadows.
From Nothing Forgiven by Lee Thomas (Inspired by Something In the Night) Long ago, you made a promise, swore youd never return to this place. Now though, with your promise broken and the pasts topography rising, they return, joining you in the car like phantom passengers.
From Fire by Elizabeth Massie (Inspired by Im On Fire) Mac put his hand on the wall, willing her to feel his love through the plaster. Lisa, let me help you. You? Youre kidding, right? How can you help? Mac was taken aback. She saw him as only the cripple next door, the young man who had nothing to offer but pasta, pie, and a friendly word through the wall.
From Atonement by Gary A. Braunbeck (Inspired by My Fathers House) Dont tell me youve forgotten? Yes, thats right. Thirty years ago tonight, my father buried us under the floorboards in my bedroom after he came home early from work and caught us in my bed.
From Kneeling in the Darkness by Lorne Dixon (Inspired by Point Blank) Listen. Riddle said, his grip steadying Teddys hand. A hundred invisible blades punctured his flesh at as many angles, bullets tore chunks of flesh out of his body, he felt himself crushed by stone, suffocated by linen, beaten until his skeleton was nothing but an assembly of shards. Listen to her.
From The Hungry Heart by Michael A. Arnzen (Inspired by Hungry Heart) A recurring snore. A blasted monitor bleep. A terrible spoon pinging porcelain. It was an orchestra conducted by some subsonic sadist intent on keeping him awake. He clutched the heart-shaped pillow against his chest. It was still beating.
From Die Angle by Lawrence C. Connolly (Inspired by Murder, Incorporated) Nick took an envelope from the desk. Call me as soon as you finish. He passed the envelope to Johnny. I need to know the moment hes dead.
From From the Dark Heart of a Dream by Tom Piccirilli (Inspired by Adam Raised a Cain) My fathers ghost might be standing in the darkness, watching, evaluating, judging. I bond with a man thirty-five years embalmed. It does things to a person.
From Independence Day by Sarah Langan (Inspired by Independence Day and The Rising) The doctor has a Cyclops-like eye in the center of his face. It lights up white, and then red. The doctor is a five-foot wide metal box in the curved corner of the room. Its attached to the needles, and her, by worn plastic tubes that over time have turned pink from other peoples blood.
From Aint No Angel Gonna Greet Me by Guy Adams (Inspired by Marias Bed) Sitting on the back seat I scrubbed at each foot in turn before pulling on the dead mans socks and boots; a size or so too big, but nothing I couldnt walk in. Finally I popped his snake-eyes cufflinks in place, pulled on the jacket. I closed the trunk lid and got back behind the wheel. I would take the last step of the journey in my dead-mans clothes.
From With These Hands by Kurt Dinan (Inspired by Factory and Two Faces) When he died three weeks later, I inherited his house, his car, and his bills. Then, like every other son in town eventually does, I took my fathers place on the line, my hands continuing his work as if theyd never taken a break.

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To my wonderful wife Dee, who held my hand while I was working on a dream


Loves ya


Acknowledgements


No book is ever put together alone, and that most certainly holds most true for an anthology. So, for fear of sounding like a literary version of an Academy Award acceptance speech, its time for the thank yalls:


Thanks to the contributors, for sharing my vision and delivering on your promises. One of the neatest things I noticed while putting this book together was that hardly anyone asked what the pay rate was; they wrote, submitted, got accepted, and then asked (and in some cases, not even then). As one writer said, It didnt occur to me to ask how much I was getting paid. I just wanted to be a part of it. It was that kind of enthusiasm and support that kept me from feeling like I was just out there dancing in the dark.

Special thanks to Lee Thomas, who grasped early on exactly what I was trying to do. His story certainly reflects that, and his support and belief in this project never wavered; and to Mike Arnzen, whose enthusiasm for this idea nearly matched my own, and who suggested the names of and gave contact info for a few of the authors who appear in these pages. Both you guys kept my head above water when I was ready to ditch the life preserver and swallow some saltwater. You guys gave me reason to believe.

To Russ Schweizer, Lorne Dixon and Tom Piccirilli, for their longtime support and friendship. A guy couldnt ask for better friends in this life.

To Brian Keene and Brian Hodge: my deepest gratitude and my sincerest apologies. It was never a case of your best not being good enough.

To Ellen Datlow, for letting me bounce a few ideas off of her early on (and yeah, to rant a bit), and whose advice and honesty helped tremendously as I stepped into the fire.

To Mona Okada, for always politely taking my phone calls and who always communicated with the highest display of courtesy and professionalism; who, in short, gave the legalities I needed to address a human touch.

To Bruce Springsteen, for the magic.

To Pete Crowther, for getting behind this project right from my first email and riding this thing to the end. For everyone who believes there are still gentlemen left in the world of publishingwell, hes living proof.

To John and Bill, my blood brothers.

To my mother and my grandparents, who always encouraged this kid with his nose in a book. As much as for anyone, this is for you.

To my great kids, Jessica and Jason. My beautiful rewards


Introduction


Grown up in the Darkness at the Edge of My Book of Dreams


What you hold in your hands is not as much a book as it is a concept, one that maybe has not been done in quite this way before.

This isnt to suggest that music and literature have never met on the creative crossroads. Theres been music-based fiction anthologies (Jeff Gelbs Shock Rock and Shock Rock II ; Its Only Rock and Roll: An Anthology of Rock and Roll Stories , including Rock and Roll Heaven by T. Coraghessan Boyle, who, incidentally, is also the author of Greasy Lake, a story inspired by Bruce Springsteens Spirit In the Night), songs, entire albums and even concert tour themes inspired by literature and literary figures (from artists as diverse as Springsteen, Metallica and Britney Spears), anthologies inspired by more than one musician (editor Matthew Mieles Lit Riffs has Tom Perrotta, Jonathan Lethem, Aimee Bender and others penning tales inspired by a variety of songs, including Rod Stewarts Maggie May and Paul Simons Graceland) and anthologies inspired by the work of a single artist ( Stars: Stories Based on Janis Ian Songs , co-edited by Ian and Mike Resnick, featuring sf writers such as David Gerrold, Mercedes Lackey, Harry Turtledove, Orson Scott Card, Spider Robinson and others). But I dont believe theres ever been an anthology thats assembled such an eclectic group of writers of several genreshorror, mystery, suspense, science fiction, fantasygiven the freedom to choose as their inspiration any song, from any album, encompassing the full body of work of a single artist with the diversity, discography and dynamic of Bruce Springsteen.

Legendary rock musician. Poet laureate of the working class. Voice of Americas conscience. Anyone with such status is sure to influence and inspire. Indeed, Sean Penn writes about Springsteen in The 2008 TIME 100:


In the chain of our responses to the most influential art, or artists, of our day, there is a link for most of us, an imageWe see one hand passing a baton into another, the influences of the influential. And in that rite of passage, Bruce Springsteen is no exception.


Springsteen has been the subject of many nonfiction books. His lyrics can be found quoted as epigraphs in a couple of novels by Stephen King (most memorably, of course, Jungleland in the opening of The Stand ). Elizabeth Wurtzel not only dedicates her book More, Now, Again: A Memoir of Addiction to Springsteen, but names him as a major influence. Bobbie Ann Masons novel In Country not only opens with a quote from Born in the U.S.A., but shes said that the entire novel is in homage to that 1984 album. Countless singers have admitted Bruces influence on their work. Springsteens presence can even be felt outside the creative arena: John Kerry used No Surrender during his presidential campaign in 2004.

What exactly is it that draws so many to Springsteens lyrics? What is it about those words that enable so many creative minds to take away so much from them and apply their meaning to their own work? To use them to reflect their own writing? To use them, even, to rally a political quest?

The answer to that would be different, I suppose, for everyone.

For me, I think its the brutal honesty of Springsteens songs. One of Springsteens endearing, and enduring, qualities is his ability to tap so deeply into the human spirit, to not shy away from mans weaknesses, his vulnerability to failure, to feel pain and inflict pain, to question himself, doubt himself, question the world around him. The world of Springsteens songs is our world, for the most part, wrought with the same tensions and uncertainties and fears. As American novelist and physician, Dr. Walker Percy, once said of Springsteen: He sings of us while singing to us.

Springsteen calls up our values, and then he strips them away, cutting down to the bone. Whats most important in your life? Your kids? Your spouse? Your home? Your job? Your freedom? It can all be gone, Springsteen tells us, in a moment. From men nostalgic about the hometowns they grew up in, to the beaten men giving the best of themselves over to the factories and highways of their work (and in many cases, the work of their fathers before them), to the men who left parts of themselves scattered on the battlefields of war or on the battlegrounds of love, to men searching for who they used to be and boys in hot rods searching for who they might become, to brave men gone cold with fear to tough men gone soft with love, were all afraid to lose our tenacious grip on who we are and what we are and all we hold dear.

We all have hungry hearts: the desire to love those who love us, to succeed in our careers and our relationships and our private endeavors, to live life with clear minds and unencumbered souls. For the most part, a good story, like a good song, explores the confrontations and inner turmoil that result when one or more of these things are taken away. So many of Springsteens characters find themselves thrust into such a situation, through the loss of one or more of the things that matter most to us: a relationship, a job, self-image, self-confidence, freedom, dignity, choice.

Loss is the common thread, in addition to the source of inspiration, that runs through the stories found in this anthology (along with love and moral redemption, its one of Springsteens most-used themes). The tales in these pages all involve loss on some level, in some form, just as you would find it in so many of Springsteens stories.

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