Get Some Go Again

Midnight Quatermass 08. Come for the story. Stay for the biscuits.

Evening all,

Let’s get stuck in before the story sneaks up on us shall we?

A year or so ago we put out a little book called Fetch. My first stab at writing a comic book for kids, and finally something my own children could read without me having to explain explosive decompression or those little plastic bags filled with organs that get put back in after an autopsy. Win win.

Sandy and John Carpenter believed the idea was strong enough to go straight to a trade paperback so we skipped our traditional eight-issue run and threw a hefty 104 pages into the world. It’s been a roaring success. Great reviews, nominated for awards and has been described as one of the “most outstanding works representing a significant contribution to the literary landscape.”

Not bad for a kids’ book about smashing skeletons to pieces.

I’m being frivolous, when in reality I’m ferociously proud of the book. It’s about a little girl who goes to hell to bring back her dead dog, and while you could take that concept in a number of directions, I feel very lucky that I worked with a team that could deliver the tale in such an interesting and visually beautiful way.

And the kids fucking love it. Right until they get to the last page and then they HATE me. I grew up with cliffhangers and I think like eating gruel and being sent up chimneys aged three, they’re good for you and build character. The kids that have kicked me in the shin disagree and want some fucking closure. So here we are.

Fetch Book II.

“A testament to the power of storytelling that weaves together adventure, Greek mythology, and the timeless bonds of love.”

“An unforgettable journey into a world where the lines between heroism and myth blur beautifully.”

“A thrilling adventure and a poignant exploration of courage and determination.”

“Fetch Book Two: The Rescue is not just a story; it’s an odyssey that challenges and delights, crafted to ignite young imaginations while providing a bridge to the rich tapestry of Greek mythology.”

“It seems clear that to Storm King Comics readers, Fetch Book Two: The Rescue is more than a graphic novel; it’s a celebration of storytelling’s power to inspire, educate, and entertain.”

“The visuals and set pieces are even more spectacular than the first, with mixtures of eerie and epic. There is a wonderful sense of scale and scope, from the small and intimate to the gigantic and looming to a degree I rarely get see captured so well in this medium.”

“Be ready to pick up Book 2 on the 8th of May. If you haven’t, and you are a fan of Pixar films; Greek Mythology; and child-driven, whimsical adventures (like Labyrinth, Mirrormask, or Neverending Story), then this is the sort of comic for you.”

“Mike Sizemore does an outstanding job narrating as both characters confront figures from their past and grapple with the negative outcomes of their actions, the narrative gains depth and complexity, elevating the story beyond a simple adventure.”

“This book does it right. ... Mike Sizemore balances the reality and fantasy of the story with an even hand. ... Dave Kennedy's reproductions of Greek gods and heroes and Pete Kennedy's vibrant colors will appeal to both kids and adults, who will see a lot of Ray Harryhausen's Titans in the pages.”

“Dave Kennedy’s artwork seamlessly blends childlike whimsy with eerie horror elements, creating a visually captivating experience. From the depths of Hades’s underworld to the vast expanse of the sea, Kennedy’s illustrations evoke a sense of wonder and dread, enhanced by Pete Kennedy’s bold and high-contrast colors.”

Shucks.

But the critics are correct about Dave’s artwork. I’m a very lucky writer to be supported by such a talented team. Pete on colouring duties makes each page pop and Janice, the fucking legendary Janice Chiang, who has worked on EVERYTHING, makes my dialogue fly.

If you want more of me talking about this then I’m interviewed here and in SFX and also here with a couple more to come I think.

And for now that’s that.

I do quickly want to mention someone’s else’s project that recently launched.

Years ago, I’m in LA and hanging with Deric who some of you will know from his work on TV’s Warehouse 13, The Flash, Arrow, Quantum Leap and more. We grab a bite to eat and I guess that’s it for the night until we pull up and he announces we’re going to ‘a thing’. Okay, I say, and a few minutes later I’m sat in a complete stranger’s front room with a drink in my hand and smiling at all the Battlestar Galactic stuff. A fellow fan I think… and then Bear fucking McCreary introduces himself and we watch a 1966 black and white movie called INCUBUS with William Shatner filmed entirely in Esperanto.

We’ve been firm friends ever since.

A while back we’re walking through London talking about Frank Zappa and he mentions a story to me that he’s had in his head for the longest time, and how he has a plan to get some of the best musicians and comic professionals in the world to bring it to life and, don’t you know, he’s gone and done just that:

Do check it out. I believe both the concept album and the book are out now.

Fetch II is also available now from your local comic book shop and will ship from Amazon on May 21st.

Right. Story time.

Tonight’s tale is a little shorter than the last one and doesn’t feature a single decapitated cat. Hope you still dig it.

~

7pm

No one believes her of course.

But everyone is looking at the one empty chair in our circle.

Just in case.

And everyone is watching the clock on the wall.

It’s a minute to 7pm.

Geoff, our circle leader, usually enjoys filling the silence so we don’t dwell, but for this full minute he’s one of us. Watching that second hand move.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

30 seconds to 7pm.

Pam from Brum’s phone starts vibrating, and she lets out a little shriek then smiles, embarrassed, as we all watch her bury it deep in her bag.

Then back to the clock.

10 seconds.

Then back to the empty chair.

5 seconds.

And…

Nothing happens.

Of course nothing happens.

‘Well then’, says Geoff. ‘Time for coffee’.

The spell is broken. And for a moment there it did feel like a spell. What a story she spun. We all gather around the table where the coffee, tea and custard creams wait for us. Alan, grumpy as ever, complains again about the lack of bourbons.

The woman hasn’t moved. Embarrassed maybe. I look around and everyone seems relieved to have forgotten all about her and her crazy story. Seems a little unfair. This is supposed to be a safe space. I walk over and take the now empty seat next to her.

‘Hi, I’m Peter.’

Her name is Léa. She’s French. And its only been two weeks since she lost her husband. Almost a year since I lost mine. It gets easier, but it also gets harder. Two weeks though. It’s still a gaping wound. What can I do?

‘Can I get you a coffee?’

She looks up at me and I can tell by her eyes that she’s still lost.

‘It’s true. Everything I said is true.’

Words fail me. I smile gently.

‘Let me get you that coffee. Black?’

She’s French so…

‘Black it is. Back in a mo. I’ll get us a biscuit before Alan finishes them off’.

She watches me go and I can feel her staring at my back as I stand patiently next to the other new person in tonight’s group. Tall. Hasn’t spoken yet. But that’s okay. No pressure. Nice suit. Must have come straight from work. He starts to pour himself a coffee and I think about Léa‘s story.

Her husband was on the flight that made the news a few weeks back. Pilot error. Terrible. No survivors. I can’t even… no wonder she’s broken. Takes courage to talk to strangers. But what a story. We all find it hard to let go and Christ knows I’m no psychologist, but I think she needs help beyond what she’ll find here. Geoff will have some numbers for her. An email address.

‘He comes back…’

That got our attention. You could have heard a pin drop. Even Alan was quiet as she continued.

‘7pm on the dot. Sometimes an hour. Sometimes a little longer. He doesn’t speak. I don’t think he can. And I think it’s hard for him to stay here. He fights it. Going away. It looks like it hurts. And then he’s gone again. Until the next day. 7pm. Exactly. The flight… his plane. It hit the water at 7pm you see…’

And that’s when we realised that we’d all been speaking for almost an hour. It goes quick. No one knew what to say. So instead we all looked at the empty chair next to her. We all looked at the clock. And like idiots we all waited for her poor dead husband to appear.

I’m smiling about it now. Ridiculous. But for a moment there…

The coffee will help.

The tall man is still pouring his coffee. The only other new face. Very quiet. That sadness we all carry here with us. I should introduce myself. And then I notice a few things all at once.

He’s spilling the coffee. He’s filled the little plastic cup to the brim but hasn’t stopped and the hot black liquid is spreading out across the table towards the little paper plates of biscuits.

‘Oy, watch it mate’, says Alan, but then he notices some things too and he goes quiet, but his mouth hangs open and I can see his fillings.

Another thing I notice is that the tall man’s suit is wet. Weird. It’s not raining and its warm in here and we’ve been sat together for an hour and besides he’s not just wet he’s fucking soaked. I can see it in his suit now. The water. He’s literally dripping. I look down and sure enough a puddle has formed beneath him. His shoe is soaked too. How did I not notice that he was only wearing one shoe? His sock was once white I guess but it’s filthy. Sodden. And then a small crab, a cute one if it was on the TV with David Attenborough narrating, drops out from his soaked trouser leg and scuttles away under the table. It’s not cute though. It’s fucking horrifying. And I look up at Alan’s wide eyes and Pam from Brum’s screaming face that can’t quite find its voice as if its tucked away with her phone at the bottom of her bag and Geoff.

Geoff is backing away far enough that I can see he’s pissing himself.

No one wants to see that so I look at the back of the tall man’s neck and realise that his skin is too white. Mottled. Soaked. Like he’s been under the water for a while. Like he’s been down in the darkness for two weeks.

Like they haven’t found his body yet, but that doesn’t make any sense because he’s here stood in front of me and he’s been here well before 7pm. In fact I remember him walking in with Léa and at first I thought they were together but then she sat away from him and anyway this can’t be happening because she said he only comes at 7pm and this guy, this tall soaking wet dead guy in front of me didn’t pop into existence at 7pm because he’s been here at least an hour and oh my fucking god I get it.

The plane that crashed. His plane. The fucking French plane.

It hit the water at 7pm over there.

So 6pm here.

6 fucking pm.

And then the bones under his wet suit begin to crack and I start screaming and turn away and the only one smiling is Léa.

Because now someone will finally believe her.

Till next time…