By John Claude Smith
Whilst enigmatic poet Henry Coronado disappears six months after the hot Year's Eve, 1959, Welcoming Chaos occasion, he's taking with him a profound mystery wrapped in the phrases of his poem, Autumn within the Abyss. Fifty years later, an ailing man's examine into Coronado's paintings and lifestyles unearths that poetry can certainly swap the realm, or depart it in ruins.
The observe is a residing thing…and usually with deadly intentions.
Reality is the strangest mirror...
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Extra resources for Autumn in the Abyss
Very well/ he said curtly. ' The policeman kept writing in the ledger. Mr Ketchum sat there stiffly, looking at him. Insufferable, he thought. This was the last damned time he'd ever go within a hundred miles of this damned New England. The policeman looked up. ' he asked. Mr Ketchum stared at him. ' 'No, I – it's on the licence,' Mr Ketchum blurted. He felt a tremor of pleasure at his retort and, at the same time, an impaling of strange dread at talking back to the man. ' asked the policeman.
Then a grin wrinkled his carnal jowls. ' Talbert undipped his four-colour pencil. Talbert stood in an elevator rising to the tenth floor of the Gault Building. The hour ride to New York had been most illuminating. Not only had he transcribed seven of the most horrendously vulgar jokes he had ever heard in his life but had extracted a promise from Harrison to take him to the various establishments where these jokes had been heard. The hunt was on. Max Axe,’ detective agency read the words on the frosty-glassed door.
That is a base canard,' said Talbert, 'and you know it. ' A pregnant silence bellied the vast room. Talbert stood at a window looking down the hill at Lake Bean which his father had had poured in 1923. Think of it,' he said after a moment's reflection. The nation alive with off-colour jokes – the world alive! And the same jokes, Uncle, the same jokes. How? How? By what strange means do these jokes o'erleap oceans, span continents? ' He turned and met Uncle Lyman's mesmeric stare. 'I mean to know,' he said.
Autumn in the Abyss by John Claude Smith