Mark Valentine > Quotes

“It was Stevenson, I think, who most notably that there are some places that simply demand a story should be told of them. ...

After all, perhaps Stevenson had only half of the matter. It is true there are places which stir the mind to think that a story must be told about them. But there are also, I believe, places which have their story stored already, and want to tell this to us, through whatever powers they can; through our legends and lore, through our rumors, and our rites. By its whispering fields and its murmuring waters, by the wailing of its winds and the groaning of its stones, by what it chants in darkness and the songs it sings in light, each place must reach out to us, to tell us, tell us what it holds. ("The Axholme Toll")”
― Mark Valentine, Best New Horror 21

“As we struck across the ridges and hollows of the undulating terrain, our attention was caught by a slight rustling in a clump of long grass to our left. In a few strides we had drawn level, and pushed aside the straggling stalks, to reveal the quivering body of a rabbit, on its side, oddly contorted. Ralph bent to examine it, and its fright became even greater; there was agony in its staring eyes. Gently, he tried to pick it up, only to withdraw his hand with a moan of disgust; moist and warm redness stained his fingers, and his face became set and sullen. Very little additional examination was required to establish that the creature had been shot by one of the Hall’s marauding parties, but that the job had been botched, and the victim had managed to effect a temporary escape to sink down here, and drain away to oblivion. It was remotely possible that the wound was the work of some more instinctive predator, but by far the greater likelihood rested with an incompetent marksman. As we watched, the animal began to succumb with paroxysms of twitching, and life fled from it very shortly.

‘Is it worth our fee, then, to work for people who enjoy this kind of thing?’ I enquired, bitterly, after we had walked a little way in silence. Ralph stared straight ahead.

‘I have accepted her terms, and she must accept mine. I only said I would look into the cause of her “little difficulty”. I did not say I would deal with it. I shall keep my word—exactly so.”
― Mark Valentine, Herald of the Hidden & Other Stories

“Suddenly I thought that I did not want these moments to end: the decaying garden, the earnestness of the young woman from the quiet town below, the frail glow of the late noon, the cracked stone flags, the slow flowing of the countryside beyond, the cool lustre of the little flagon in my hand, the merest possibility of some lingering presence of the thoughts, the whimsical meditations of Hugh Kerwyn: all these things seemed so finely, so perfectly poised before me; I did not want to emerge from them. I would gladly have stayed all the while that the long day dwindled into dusk, trying to stem its ebbing, to seize some moments of it, some few fragments, to try fiercely to prevent it all from disappearing into the darkness.”
― Mark Valentine, The Collected Connoisseur

“And our task is harder even than that,” he said, “for we also have to invoke the grey fumes without denying the palpitating breath of roses. We have to give glimpses of a world that sometimes seems to work like a machine bent on some inexorable but inscrutable task, with all of us caught in its coils, cogs meshing always with the absurd, frantic pistons pushing away at the futile.”

“And yet,” he added, his voice now only a murmur which seemed to be a part of the rustling of the withered bushes and the passing noises of the road, “we may also at times suggest a slight faltering in the grinding of the machine, or the brief opening of an unknown vista suggesting that the machine is not all that there is.”
― Mark Valentine, Marked to Die: A Tribute to Mark Samuels

“Wilson’s weakness was to be over-literal, or to assume that his opponents were. One treatise, The Uttermost Pit, demonstrated with considerable geological learning that there could not be space within the mineral bowels of the Earth for any chambers big enough to contain all the damned souls of the ages. A third, Going to Gehenna, purported to show that the biblical references to the infernal domain were in point of fact to real places of sinister repute, and not to anywhere metaphysical. Wilson lost no opportunity to argue, with any evidence he found to hand, that there could not be any hell or Hades, and so none should fear them.”
― Mark Valentine, Seventeen Stories