Screamscapes: Tales of Terror by Evans Light

fond of the final section, the somewhat poetic outro on which it culminates.
    Reactions to this story have been interesting to follow, and seem to vary depending on gender. There are two sides to every story, the axiom goes, and CRAWLSPACE is no exception. Regardless of whether you choose to place your loyalties and sympathy with the main character, or if you feel that he is getting his just desserts, the ending should still satisfy most.
    As a side note, the original draft ended in a much more brutal and conclusive manner, but I think the ending as it is now puts the reader in a much greater state of psychological discomfort, and leaves the “where do they go from here” open to the imagination.

    Whatever Possessed You?
    R eading weird tales and horror novels were his guilty pleasure. He felt certain he could write them, too - as brilliantly as the best of them.
    Gerard Faust had long harbored the notion of quitting his job at the university, of saying fuck it all and finally doing what he really wanted to do: write horror for a living.
    Common sense had kept him from ever giving it a try, at least until recently. He was a Professor of Literature, for Christ’s sakes . Why would he dare sully his reputation - maybe even risk his tenure - by writing bloody pulp? Even the best, most literate horror was despised and ridiculed by academia until long after the poor author was dead. Gerard was sure his own death, by starvation most likely, would be swift in coming if he tried to make a living by writing what he loved.
    It was tempting though. He had his entire first novel completely formed in his thoughts, written in his mind. The book would be amazing, he was certain. All he had left to do was actually write it, to take some time off from teaching and get it done.
    “You know the difference between a pizza and a horror writer?” Sonia, his wife, used to tease, whenever he’d bring up the subject.
    “A pizza can actually feed a family of four?” he’d mutter. Gerard knew the answer well enough and had taken its meaning to heart, so his wish to become a full-time writer had remained simply that – an idle wish , a daydream.
    But sometimes wishes do come true , he secretly believed.
    He had gone out for dinner with a long-lost college friend who had made something of a name for himself in the publishing industry. Casual conversation, along with a couple bottles of wine, got Gerard talking about his long-dormant book idea. His friend loved it.
    To his utter surprise, a few days later Gerard found himself signing an honest-to-goodness publishing contract, complete with a hefty advance payment and a brutal six month deadline.
    It seemed too good to be true, and he was afraid that maybe it was.
    The challenge of turning his idea into a finished novel proved much trickier than he had anticipated. The words in his head had skillfully eluded his efforts to capture them on the page for weeks at a time. A feeling of helplessness and impending doom grew inside him as the final deadline approached; the sands of time seemed to fall faster with each passing day.
    Some days, the words poured from his fingertips and the stack of pages on his desk would begin to grow. A faint glimmer of hope sparkled somewhere on the distant horizon, he felt confident.
    But the feeling didn’t last long. A profound case of writer’s block once again settled over his mind like a dense fog. He knew he had to get the words flowing, and fast - his deadline was only two weeks away, and his unpaid sabbatical from teaching would end shortly thereafter. The advance for the book, half-spent already, would have to be repaid in full if he couldn’t deliver.
    The thought made him shudder.
    After wasting the afternoon staring at a blank screen, the inactivity of his fingers relentlessly mocked by a blinking cursor, he decided to abandon his desk and go get some fresh air. A change of scenery might help clear his mind, at least he hoped, so he hopped in the car and