Wicked Cruel

Wicked Cruel

Most of our kids have grown up on urban legends ranging from the
simplicity of the cautionary razor blade in the Halloween apple (not
sure anyone's ever found one in real life--just gave us parents the
chance to snitch a few sweet tidbits while dutifully examining candy
wrappers) to the richly detailed Bloody Mary. If the kids in my life
are any indication they love them. In Wicked Cruel: Three urban
legends Rich Wallace brings us some of the most original, spine
tingling, beautifully crafted spooky tales it's ever been my great
good fortune to read.
The three stories are tied together by a sense of place. The
common setting is an old New England college town, richly and lovingly
described to the point of feeling familiar. Cheshire Notch is a town
of 25,000 joined during the school year by 6,000 students. Oh yeah,
if there is any truth to rumors, the berg also boasts phantoms, both
two and four legged.
Wicked Cruel involves a boy, Lorne, who moved away from town
after being bullied by just about all of his peers. One day Jordan
sees him in a video of a concert. When he replays it Lorne has
disappeared. This turns out to be only the first of a number of
unexpected nocturnal Lorne sightings. What makes them bizarre and
unlikely is that word on the street is that he has died from brain
damage caused by his many beatings.
The Horses of Brickyard Pond concerns a team drowned when they
were unable to escape a surge of water from an aquafer, but evidently
not completely gone. Some folks claim to have seen their frightening
apparition. This includes Danny's poet father who has documented his
close encounter in verse.
My favorite, though, is Rites Of Passage. A reputedly haunted
tavern is the former home of a farmer who built five barns. Under
each he buried one of his five children. They all died tragically
young, none living past fourteen. A daughter, it seems, did not move
on to another sphere, maintaining the ability to appear, communicate
with the living, and even dance.
Summer is the perfect time for late night bonfires. A few
s'mores and the reading aloud of one of these stories would make for a
perfect spooky evening. Works for me. ;)
On a personal note, last Friday was Orono Arts Cafe. My three poems
were well received, especially the one about frisbee. In Maine, it
seems, everyone loves that passtime.
A great big shout out goes out to all frisbee lovers, including those
of the canine variety.
Julia Emily Hathaway




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