IAN MONDRICK IS BRAIN DEAD

Contributor’s note: I’d like to state publicly that the events in this article are entirely fictional. While it may be true that you are shepherded through the afterlife by your most influential (non-familial) figure, I am actually still alive and in reasonably good health (as of this writing, anyway).


If you’re lost (and who wouldn’t be?), here’s part 1 / part 2 / part 3.


 

A faint hum runs through my body, rippling out from the center of my head, cascading downward through my veins until it tingles my fingers and toes. My eyes move behind their closed lids before opening. The light that pours in is so bright, I’m overwhelmed, left blind by an unending whiteness. As they slowly adjust, a disembodied voice whispers into my ear, gruff and seasoned with the wisdom of old age.


“Sorry, kid…but it looks like you’re at the end of the line.”


It’s the end of the TOMB OF THE BLACK HORSE campaign as well! I say, bolting upright at the waist, still partially blind to my surroundings. There’s less than 24 hours remaining to pre-order the third issue in the apocalyptic horror ser…Wait, are you John Carpenter?


The wizened incredibly virile and youthful septuagenarian sits next to me, black T-shirt and jeans vibrating with an ethereal glow. He smiles in a way that lets me know how stupid my question is. “No, I just look a lot like him. I’m here to help you go…into the beyond.”


Tears begin to well up in my asymmetrical, beady eyes. Oh, that’s so incredibly kind! With the little time we have remaining, we’re looking to go BEYOND our second stretch goal, which is only a few hundred dollars away! There’s also a great chance we’ll hit the 400-backer milestone, which is a huge achievement for the TOMB series! We’re hoping to have a small boost in the final hours, but these things are super unpredictable. And by the way, you don’t get nearly enough credit for Prince of Darkness, it’s an absolute masterpiece!


The star of Body Bags waves his hands at me in a dismissive manner. “Stop, stop, stop..but also thank you. Look! I’m just here to answer any questions you may have before moving into the next plane of existence.” The Master of Horror is quick to warn me with a pointed finger. “But again, I am NOT him, so please don’t ask anything about my illustrious catalog of films.”


My attempts at restraint are, at this point, almost visible. Through clenched teeth and a quivering jaw, I attempt to resist the urge to ask about the anti-white savior narrative in Big Trouble in Little China and push forward with my usual grind. The only question is…*heh* Why aren’t you backing TOMB OF THE BLACK HORSE? I mean, we have…there’s like, um…it’s a critically acclaimed horror series and you should really… I begin to kick at invisible stones with my sneaker, hands shoved deep into the pockets of my jeans. John (Mr. Carpenter?) puts a hand on my shoulder.


“Are you OK, bud?”


My body relaxes, and my head slumps forward. I’m just really tired. This whole campaign has been great, but being online all the time and managing a Kickstarter REALLY requires a lot of energy. Benjamin and I have been so successful— really blown away by the response, and we’re SO thankful. But it’s hard to keep your foot on the gas, y’know? It’s a LOT to keep up with. I mean, I can’t wait to do it again, but at the same time...man, I need to rest.


The director of Christine sits back and regards our surroundings: a simple garden, with a simple stone bench for us to sit upon. He points to a screen that’s suddenly appeared, translucent and floating in front of us. On it is an image of the TOMB OF THE BLACK HORSE Kickstarter. The time remaining reads 34 hours.


“Well, we’re not in a hurry. Why don’t we take a little while and watch the clock count down?” He seems disinterested but empathetic. “You can rest here for a while.”


I try to hide my childlike exuberance. Sounds good, Mr. Carpenter. Say, did you know that all physical backers for TOMB OF THE BLACK HORSE will receive a sticker pack if we hit our second stretch goal?


My favorite director’s jaw clenches behind a forced smile. He waves his hand as he begins to speak, and I can immediately feel my atoms dissolving, my spiritual form losing cohesion and fading into non-existence.


“Yeah, you may have mentioned it once or twice…”


Boy oh boy, I’m dead and the campaign for TOMB OF THE BLACK HORSE is almost over. There’s no way I’m gonna be able to top this next time around, huh? Guess I should just give up and not write any more of these articles because hey…where could you POSSIBLY go from here?




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