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Shambling, vaguely man-shaped creatures parted before Ellie's H2 as she pulled it into a vacant space in the mansion's paved courtyard. Her headlights picked out eyeless faces, gaping jaws that revealed rows of teeth, skin that literally hung and drooped off the creatures' limbs, giving them a half-melted appearance. They bore no resemblance to any Unseen in Ellie's experience. And they were everywhere, a crowd of at least forty of the things. Even with the windows shut against the chill October night, she could smell them -- a rotted, carrion stench.
At the far end of the courtyard, the vast black bulk of the mansion rose into the night sky, its entrance flanked by spires that made the place look like a castle. Yellow-orange light shone from various windows. Flashy, even for this remote part of Long Island.
Her hand strayed to the silvery medallion, engraved with arcane characters and designs, that hung around her neck. It had been given to her at the end of the last challenge. She had shown it at the main gate, some half a mile back, at the other end of a drive that wound up the forested hill. The security guard had instructed her, for her own safety, to keep it on her person at all times while on the grounds. With another glance at the shambling creatures, she understood why.
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Matthew S. Rotundo is an award-winning author whose work has appeared in Writers of the Future Volume XXV, Jim Baen's Universe, and of course, InterGalactic Medicine Show. Matt is also a movie buff (he even has a brief appearance in the film The People vs. George Lucas) and enjoys college football. He plays guitar and has been known to sing karaoke.
Matt lives in Nebraska. He has husked corn only once in his life, and has never been detasseling, so he insists he is not a hick.
quote:I embarked on a story involving a castle (later a Long Island mansion) in a contemporary setting, and some sinister doings within. I originally conceived of it as a darkly satirical version of The Apprentice, with contestants vying to work for a powerful demon instead of Donald Trump. I know, right? The jokes just write themselves. Hilarious.
But the muse had other plans, as she often does. She's funny that way. For one thing, "Wet Work" became much heavier on the dark than on the satire. In fact, it's one of the nastiest pieces in my repertoire. What that says about me is an exercise I leave to the reader.
From Matthew S. Rotundo's story-behind-the-story, here.
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