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  CITY FISHING

  By Steve Rasnic Tem

  A Macabre Ink Production

  Macabre Ink is an imprint of Crossroad Press

  Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press

  Digital Edition Copyright 2012 / Steve Rasnic Tem

  LICENSE NOTES

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Meet the Author

  Steve Rasnic Tem was born in Lee County Virginia in the heart of Appalachia. He is the author of over 350 published short stories and is a past winner of the Bram Stoker, International Horror Guild, British Fantasy, and World Fantasy Awards. His story collections include City Fishing, The Far Side of the Lake, and In Concert (with wife Melanie Tem). Forthcoming collections include Ugly Behavior (crime) and Celestial Inventories (contemporary fantasy). An audio collection, Invisible, is also available. His novels include Excavation, The Book of Days, Daughters, The Man in the Ceiling (with Melanie Tem), and the recent Deadfall Hotel. In this Edward Gorey-esque, Mervyn Peak-esque novel a widower takes the job of manager at a remote hotel where the guests are not quite like you and me, accompanied by his daughter and the ghost of his wife—”a literary exploration of the roots of horror in the collective unconscious.”

  Steve Rasnic Tem’s short fiction has been compared to the work of Franz Kafka, Dino Buzzati, Ray Bradbury, and Raymond Carver[citation needed], but to quote Joe R. Lansdale: “Steve Rasnic Tem is a school of writing unto himself.” His 200-plus published pieces have garnered him a British Fantasy Award, World Fantasy and a nomination for the Bram Stoker Awards.

  NOVELS

  Deadfall Hotel

  Excavation

  The Book of Days

  WITH MELANIE TEM

  Beautiful Stranger

  Daughters

  In Concert

  The Man in the Ceiling

  COLLECTIONS

  Absences: Charlie Goode’s Ghosts

  Celestial Inventory

  City Fishing

  Decoded Mirrors: Three Tales After Lovecraft

  Fairytales

  The Far Side of the Lake

  The Hydrocephalic Ward (poems)

  DISCOVER CROSSROAD PRESS

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  CITY FISHING

  Contents

  INTRODUCTION: FINDING THE SECRET HISTORY

  CITY FISHING

  THE PAINTERS ARE COMING TODAY

  A MASK IN MY SACK

  THE POOR

  PREPARATIONS FOR THE GAME

  HIDEY HOLE

  THE OVERCOAT

  BUZZ

  PAREIDOLIA

  TRICKSTER

  WHEN COYOTE TAKES BACK THE WORLD

  SAFE HOUSE

  THE BATTERING

  LITTLE CRUELTIES

  THE WOMAN ON THE CORNER

  THE MEN AND WOMEN OF RIVENDALE

  TAKING DOWN THE TREE

  AFTER WORK

  A HUNDRED WICKED LITTLE WITCHES

  BROOMS WELCOME THE DUST

  ANGEL COMBS

  FATHER’S DAY

  BRUTES

  BITE

  HOOKS

  CARNAL HOUSE

  THE VISIBLE MAN

  GHOST IN THE MACHINE

  FAIRY TALES

  THRUMM

  BOXER

  HUNGRY

  MOUTHS

  THE BURDENS

  EGGS

  THE SADNESS OF ANGELS

  THE RAINS

  DERANGEMENT

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  CITY FISHING was originally published in limited hardcover, leather, and trade paperback editions by Silver Salamander Press in 2000. John Pelan was the editor. Bruce Boston did the copyediting and the original book design.

  Introduction: Finding the Secret History, copyright 2000 by Steve Rasnic Tem, is ORIGINAL to this collection.

  City Fishing, copyright 1980 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in New Terrors One

  The Painters Are Coming Today, copyright 1979 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Other Worlds 1

  A Mask in My Sack, copyright 1984 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in The Saint Magazine, June 1984

  The Poor, copyright 1982 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Terrors

  Preparations for the Game, copyright 1982 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Whispers (magazine) 17/18

  Hidey Hole, copyright 1987 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Masques 2

  The Overcoat, copyright 1984 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Night Visions 1

  Buzz, copyright 1985 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Mile High Futures, Nov. 1985

  Pareidolia, copyright 2000 by Steve Rasnic Tem, is ORIGINAL to this collection

  Trickster, copyright 1986 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Halloween Horrors

  When Coyote Takes Back the World, copyright 1983 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Lands of Never

  Safe House, copyright 1989 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Winter Chills 3

  The Battering, copyright 1985 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Shadows 8

  Little Cruelties, copyright 1986 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Cutting Edge

  Woman on the Corner, copyright 1987 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Whispers (magazine) 23/24

  The Men and Women of Rivendale, copyright 1984 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Night Visions 1

  Taking Down the Tree, copyright 1991 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Pulphouse Magazine 8

  After Work, copyright 1998 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Horrors! 365 Scary Stories

  A Hundred Wicked Little Witches, copyright 1995 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories

  Brooms Welcome the Dust, copyright 1993 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in The Ultimate Witch

  Angel Combs, copyright 1994 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in The Anthology of Fantasy and the Supernatural

  Father’s Day, copyright 1985 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Whispers V

  Brutes, copyright 1991 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Iniquities 3

  Bite, copyright 1986 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in The Horror Show, Fall ’86

&
nbsp; Hooks, copyright 1989 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Fear (Magazine) 5

  Carnal House, copyright 1989 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Hot Blood

  The Visible Man, copyright 1990 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in New Pathways 17

  Ghost in the Machine, copyright 1996 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Bloodsongs 7

  Fairy Tales, copyright 1990 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared as a chapbook from Roadkill Press

  Thrumm, copyright 1992 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in In Dreams

  Boxer, copyright 1988 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in New Blood, Fall ’88

  Hungry, copyright 1992 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Borderlands 3

  Mouths, copyright 1995 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in 100 Vicious Little Vampire Stories

  The Burdens, copyright 1995 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Dante’s Disciples

  Eggs, copyright 2000 by Steve Rasnic Tem, is ORIGINAL to this collection

  The Sadness of Angels, copyright 2000 by Steve Rasnic Tem, is ORIGINAL to this collection

  The Rains, copyright 1996 by Steve Rasnic Tem, originally appeared in Dark Terrors 2

  Derangement, copyright 2000 by Steve Rasnic Tem, is ORIGINAL to this collection

  DEDICATION

  To the editors who supported and contributed to these stories:

  Ramsey Campbell, Roy Torgeson, Keith Bancroft, Charles Grant, Stuart David Schiff, J.N. Williamson, Alan Ryan, Ed Bryant, Maxim Jakubowski, Peter Coleborn, Dennis Etchison, Dean Wesley Smith, Stefan Dziemianowicz, John Betancourt, Martin H. Greenberg, Stephen Jones, David Sutton, J.F. Gonzalez, David Silva, John Gilbert, Jeff Gelb, Chris Kelly, Steve Proposch, Doug Lewis, Tomi Lewis, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, Paul J. McAuley, Kim Newman, Chris B. Lacher, Tom Monteleone, Peter Crowther, Ellen Datlow, and John Pelan.

  And to my first editor, Melanie Tem.

  INTRODUCTION:

  FINDING THE SECRET HISTORY

  Not so many years ago the “new thing” in contemporary psychiatric circles was recovered memory. It had enormous appeal, even to those of us who had our doubts. Who among us has not sought explanation for some of the worst things we feel? It seems unlikely, impossible even, that these feelings might not have some direct correspondence to actual events.

  But what if we cannot find the precipitating event? These feelings of ours are so strong, so important, how could they not have some dramatic root cause?

  And doesn’t it make perfect sense that such important feelings were created during an event so dramatic, so traumatic, that we’ve been compelled to suppress it? Certainly such significant, superior terror deserves a history no less compelling than the finest novel or film. However modest or unassuming we might be, it is difficult not to be enthralled by the epic adventure that is our own lives.

  In due course, “recovered memory” became “false memory,” and readers of Time and Newsweek began to understand what writers of horror fiction have been putting into practice for hundreds of years: that sometimes a history which never occurred holds the key to everyday trauma. And that just because this history did not, in fact, happen, does not mean it is not true.

  Tales of horror and dark suspense unveil the secret histories whose lack of actual fact is more than made up for by their weight in mythic truth. Their characters tell us secrets even our best friends are reluctant to reveal. At their best, they make us uncomfortable, but only the foolish consistently run from discomfort.

  I cannot fully explain the appeal such histories have always held for me, but I invite you now to examine some of the results of my search.

  Steve Rasnic Tem

  Denver, Summer 1999

  CITY FISHING

  After weeks of talking about it, Jimmy’s father finally decided to take him fishing. Jimmy’s friend Bill, and Bill’s father who was Jimmy’s dad’s best friend, also were to go. Their mothers didn’t approve.

  Jimmy wasn’t sure he approved either, actually. He had somewhat looked forward to the event, thought that he should go, but as the actual day approached he knew fishing was the last thing he wanted to do. It seemed to be important to his father, however, so he would go just to please him.

  “Now, look what we have here, Jimmy. Everything you need to get along in the wild.” Jimmy’s father was tall and dark-haired, and the deep resonance in his voice made his every word seem like a command. He gestured toward a display of tools, utensils, and weaponry. “Hunting knife, pistol, wire, gunpowder, hooks and sinkers, poles, small animal trap, steel trap, fish knife, stiletto, Bowie, .22, shotgun, derringer. You have to have all this if you’re going to get along in the wild. Remember that, son.”

  Jimmy nodded with hesitation.

  Bill had run up beside him. “See what I got!”

  Jimmy had already seen out of the corner of his eye a dark shape in Bill’s left hand. As he turned to greet his friend he saw that it was a large, dead crow, its neck spotted with red.

  “Dad caught it, then I wrung its neck while we had the feet tied together. I thought I’d bring it along.”

  Jimmy nodded.

  Loud noises were coming from the house. Jimmy could hear his mother weeping, his father cursing. He walked up to the front steps and watched through the screen door.

  He could make out Bill’s father, his father, his own mother, and a young red-haired woman back in the shadows who must have been Bill’s mother.

  “You can’t take them!” He could hear his mother sobbing.

  Then there was a struggle as his dad and Bill’s dad started forcing the women into the bedroom. Bill’s mother was especially squirmy, and Bill’s father was slapping her hard across the face to make her stop. His own mother was a bit quieter, especially after Bill’s mother got hurt, but she still cried.

  His father locked the door. “We’ll let you out, maybe after we get back.” He chuckled and looked at Bill’s father. “Women!”

  It all seemed very peculiar.

  As Jimmy’s father pulled the battered old station wagon out of the driveway he began singing. He looked back over his shoulder at Jimmy and winked. Jimmy figured that singing was all part of fishing since first Bill’s father, then Bill, joined in. Jimmy couldn’t follow the words.

  “Make a real man out of him, I think,” his father said to Bill’s father. Bill’s father chuckled.

  They didn’t seem to be getting any farther out of the city. If anything, they seemed to be driving into the downtown section. Jimmy had never been downtown.

  “Are you sure this is the right way to the stream, Dad?”

  Jimmy’s father turned and glared at him. Jimmy lowered his head. Bill was gazing out the window and humming.

  They passed several old ladies driving cars with packages and shopping bags filling the back seats. His father snickered.

  They passed young girls on bicycles, their dresses fluttering in the wind. They passed several strolling couples, and a man with a baby carriage.

  Jimmy’s father laughed out loud and punched Bill’s father on the shoulder. Then they were both laughing; it sounded as if they were almost crying. Jimmy just stared at them.

  The shopping malls were getting smaller, the houses darker and shabby.

  Jimmy’s father turned to him and said fiercely, almost angrily, “You’re going to make me proud today, Jimmy.”

  Bill was beginning to get fidgety as he looked out the window. Every once in a while he would gaze at the back of his father’s head, then at the buildings along the street, then back out the rear window. He began scratching his arms in agitation.

  Jimmy gazed out his own window. The pavement was getting worse—dirtier, and full of potholes. The buildings were getting taller, and older, the farther they drove. Jimmy had always thought that only new buildings were tall.

  They passed a dark figure, wrapped in rags, crumpled on the sidewalk.

  Jimmy’s father chuckled.

  They had
left the house at noon. He knew it had been noon because he’d just eaten the lunch of soup and crackers his mother had fixed.

  The sky was getting dark.

  Jimmy put his cheek against the car window and tilted his head back so that he could see above the car. Tall smoke stacks rising out of the dark roofs of the buildings across the street blew night-black clouds into the sky. The smoke stacks were taller than anything he’d ever seen.

  Jimmy felt a lurch as the car started down the steep hill. He had been in San Francisco once, and there were lots of hills that steep. He couldn’t remember anything like that in their city, but then, he had never been downtown.

  Bill was jerking his head back and forth nervously. His eyes looked very white.

  The buildings seemed to get taller and taller, older and older. Some had columns out front, or wide wrap-around porches. Many had great iron or wooden doors. There didn’t seem to be any people on the streets.

  It suddenly occurred to Jimmy that the buildings shouldn’t be getting taller as they went downhill. The bottoms of these buildings were lower than the ones farther up the hill, behind them, so their rooftops should be lower, too. That was the way it had been in San Francisco. But looking out the back window he could see that the roofs got farther away, taller still as they descended the hill. The buildings were reaching into the sky.

  Dark figures scurried from the mouth of an alley. Jimmy couldn’t tell what they looked like; it seemed to be almost nighttime out.

  Jimmy’s father and Bill’s father were perched on the edge of their seats, apparently searching every building corner. His father was humming.

  Bill began to cry softly, his feet shuffling over the rumpled carcass of the crow.