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Sorting the Dead
Old sins die hard.
Four hundred years ago, the thirteen founding families of Sententia, Massachusetts burned Patience, De’ath, a witch, at the stake. With her dying breath, she cursed their descendents to watch their loved ones die without being able to stop it. One man, a librarian from Texas, is trying to stop the curse before it’s too late.
Quotes:
“I just want to eat them up!”
“Hey, baby. Looking for a good time?”
“What you don’t realize is that death is a gift.”
Excerpt:
The tear in the fabric of reality began at 4:01 p.m., in the woods at Johnson’s Landing, as a kind of thinness, as though someone had rubbed the sky too hard trying to clean it. The immediate effect was a gravity well, which, in a butterfly-flapping-its-wings kind of way, sucked the heavier clouds in and led to rain.
This would’ve been fascinating to any nearby meteorologists, since the rain only fell on an area of about 30 feet by 20 feet. Any experts on local history would’ve been thrilled since this had been the site of an extremely formative event that was carefully glossed over whenever anyone discussed the history of Sententia. Unfortunately there were no meteorologists, historians, or anyone else in the area, except for some deer, a couple rabbits, and two stoned teenagers who were making out in the woods after imbibing some particularly good shit.
The rain fell, the wildlife high-tailed it out of there, and one of the stoners, Jake Freeman, another descendent of one of the original thirteen founding families of Sententia, shot his load into the other stoner, Jenny Balks, much to her surprise, since they’d just started screwing. But she was stoned and the rain felt good on her skin and Jake was rich and had the best bud around, so she faked a little moan and let it go.
After they finished—or he finished, anyway—Jake left Jenny lying there and went to play in the rain. He stepped into and out of the shower three times before he realized the strangeness of it. He called for Jenny, more to have someone to babble at than to share the experience, and they both spent the next several minutes hopping from the dry into the rain and back out.
“One foot in, one foot out,” Jake said. Jenny giggled and put her arms around him because she felt like kissing someone. Above them, the sky darkened. Storm clouds circled around a dark core like water circling a drain. Jenny was thinking about saying something stupid like that she loved Jake, not that she did, but she’d like him to say he did.
Four hundred years ago, the thirteen founding families of Sententia, Massachusetts burned Patience, De’ath, a witch, at the stake. With her dying breath, she cursed their descendents to watch their loved ones die without being able to stop it. One man, a librarian from Texas, is trying to stop the curse before it’s too late.
Quotes:
“I just want to eat them up!”
“Hey, baby. Looking for a good time?”
“What you don’t realize is that death is a gift.”
Excerpt:
The tear in the fabric of reality began at 4:01 p.m., in the woods at Johnson’s Landing, as a kind of thinness, as though someone had rubbed the sky too hard trying to clean it. The immediate effect was a gravity well, which, in a butterfly-flapping-its-wings kind of way, sucked the heavier clouds in and led to rain.
This would’ve been fascinating to any nearby meteorologists, since the rain only fell on an area of about 30 feet by 20 feet. Any experts on local history would’ve been thrilled since this had been the site of an extremely formative event that was carefully glossed over whenever anyone discussed the history of Sententia. Unfortunately there were no meteorologists, historians, or anyone else in the area, except for some deer, a couple rabbits, and two stoned teenagers who were making out in the woods after imbibing some particularly good shit.
The rain fell, the wildlife high-tailed it out of there, and one of the stoners, Jake Freeman, another descendent of one of the original thirteen founding families of Sententia, shot his load into the other stoner, Jenny Balks, much to her surprise, since they’d just started screwing. But she was stoned and the rain felt good on her skin and Jake was rich and had the best bud around, so she faked a little moan and let it go.
After they finished—or he finished, anyway—Jake left Jenny lying there and went to play in the rain. He stepped into and out of the shower three times before he realized the strangeness of it. He called for Jenny, more to have someone to babble at than to share the experience, and they both spent the next several minutes hopping from the dry into the rain and back out.
“One foot in, one foot out,” Jake said. Jenny giggled and put her arms around him because she felt like kissing someone. Above them, the sky darkened. Storm clouds circled around a dark core like water circling a drain. Jenny was thinking about saying something stupid like that she loved Jake, not that she did, but she’d like him to say he did.
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First published March 1, 2015
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
January 30, 2017
C.L. Bledsoe’s “Sorting the Dead” is not your typical horror story. There’s a dry, biting humor (sometimes literally) to the narration that feeds and underscores plot and the characters, delivering an fascinating look into a darker realm.
Bledsoe crafts the tale of Sententia, Massachusetts, a town with a dark past that is about to come back to not just haunt them, but to start bleeding, killing and eating them. A man known only to the reader as “the Librarian” seems to know exactly what’s going on, and how to stop it. The trick is going to be if he can survive long enough to do so.
Bledsoe creates a tapestry of characters and interlocking plotlines of “normal” people in what is clearly an anything-but-normal town. Most of them appear to be overly ambitious, vengeful, or simply over-sexed—but all of them are about to pay for the sins of their ancestors. Bledsoe’s humor bleeds through each interaction along with the viscera of his many, many victims, revealing not only the dark history of Senetia, but also the darkness of each character.
In “Sorting the Dead”, Bledsoe deftly weaves a darkly funny horror story, although there is really only one main character through the plotlines. That’s the biggest shame, as there were some interesting inhabitants of the town who might have made for worthwhile protagonists—even if they simply tagged along with the Librarian. There’s plenty of horrifying moments, a clever dark humor, and no end of overt sexual encounters (a few gratuitous ones), that make this story an enjoyable read for fans of the genre.
Bledsoe crafts the tale of Sententia, Massachusetts, a town with a dark past that is about to come back to not just haunt them, but to start bleeding, killing and eating them. A man known only to the reader as “the Librarian” seems to know exactly what’s going on, and how to stop it. The trick is going to be if he can survive long enough to do so.
Bledsoe creates a tapestry of characters and interlocking plotlines of “normal” people in what is clearly an anything-but-normal town. Most of them appear to be overly ambitious, vengeful, or simply over-sexed—but all of them are about to pay for the sins of their ancestors. Bledsoe’s humor bleeds through each interaction along with the viscera of his many, many victims, revealing not only the dark history of Senetia, but also the darkness of each character.
In “Sorting the Dead”, Bledsoe deftly weaves a darkly funny horror story, although there is really only one main character through the plotlines. That’s the biggest shame, as there were some interesting inhabitants of the town who might have made for worthwhile protagonists—even if they simply tagged along with the Librarian. There’s plenty of horrifying moments, a clever dark humor, and no end of overt sexual encounters (a few gratuitous ones), that make this story an enjoyable read for fans of the genre.
Displaying 1 of 1 review